The floating heart sank back into his ripped chest as the torn flesh slowly healed from within. His mask slipped away, piece by piece, revealing a darkened face framed by long, lustrous hair that reached his neck.
That darkened face writhed, constantly shifting, trying to settle into a shape. Muscles twisted. Bones cracked. Skin stretched. Until finally… it stopped.
The face it formed was identical to the tentacled monster's — only closer to what it must have looked like when it was human.
Brown eyes. Sharp features. Exquisite skin. Almost unnervingly pleasing to look at.
The tentacled monster did not hesitate. It continued smothering the figure with mud, its tendrils working relentlessly. Nearly the entire torso was already buried beneath the dark sludge.
Just then, with a sharp snap, the figure tore through the tentacles. His foot slammed into the monster's chest, sending it flying backward. The creature crashed onto its back but quickly rose again, yet before it could register what had happened, its entire body was engulfed in flames.
The torches lining the walls bent unnaturally, their flames pulled toward the tentacled monster as if sucked by an unseen force, smothering it in scorching fire.
It shrieked, thrashing its arms and tentacles wildly. Stones began collapsing around them as rubble shot across the room.
Aaron, much closer to the falling debris, didn't hesitate. After hurling the dried black heart, he sprinted backward and shoved himself into the drawer, hiding inside the cramped darkness.
The drawer slammed shut on its own, sealing Aaron inside. He didn't know how it happened, but he was grateful, if not for that, the falling stones would have crushed him.
I should call the system, he thought.
At the thought alone, the window shimmered into existence in front of him. But this time, it was blank. Nothing written.
He didn't want to alert the monster outside, so he tried to communicate without speaking aloud.
Inside his mind, he asked, Who is the masked man?
He expected the system to repeat the same message, that he lacked the required authority. But this time, it reacted differently.
System read:
"The heir of Mount Har'Our. He belongs to the tribe of Veer, Jkoi Mayse—"
Suddenly, the system glitched. The text distorted, flickered, and shattered into static before reforming into something familiar.
"The requested information requires higher authority."
The empty window… and then the system bypassed the authority requirement. Aaron stared at the shimmering text with a puzzled expression.
On the outside, the fight was nearing its end. The figure floated in the air, chasing the tentacled monster that was now trying to run away.
At last, its fear won over its hunger.
The figure crouched. His hand tightened into a fist as the mask that had fallen near the sarcophagus began to shimmer, cracking into fragments. The pieces convulsed and stretched into a long, narrow spear. With a thunderous boom, the spear launched itself toward the escaping monster.
It pierced the monster's back and exited through its chest. Blood splattered across the wall.
The figure summoned the flames from the torch again. This time, the mud could not smother the fire. Instead, the mud hardened, encasing the tentacled creature inside its own skin like a prison.
Aaron could hear the monster groaning, as if it were letting out its final breath. He wanted to stay hidden inside the drawer until the figure left.
But the drawer opened on its own, pushing him back into the open.
He stared at a pillar of flame. Inside it stood the creature, its body hardened into stone. A humanoid shape with tentacles growing from its back, trapped as the dried mud formed a rock shell around it.
Beside the imprisoned monster stood the other figure. His face was strangely smooth and striking. Human.
He looked at Aaron and smiled.
"Thank you, Mr. Rat."
The white spear appeared again, levitating into the air before it shot backward into his hand. The moment it touched his palm, the spear twisted and folded into a mask once more.
He placed the mask on the ground in front of Aaron, then turned toward the exit. The door had been blasted apart earlier, leaving nothing but a massive hole in the wall.
He walked through the opening at a slow, unhurried pace.
Aaron watched his back until he disappeared into the darkness beyond the hole.
He called the system inside his head, and the window appeared before him.
A plane of shimmering blue light formed in the air, revealing the details of the mask.
Mask of Pharaoh
A mask worn by the dead of the western continent. Its origin traces back to the sun god of Mount Har'Our.
Class: Ignorant
Abilities:
Transformation: Can be transformed into any weapon.
Bond: Once bonded, the user can summon the weapon from beyond the far edges of the world.
Requirement: Death God's Mercy.
Owner: None
"I am to be its owner!" Aaron exclaimed, ordering the system to register him as the rightful bearer of the weapon.
Instead of confirming, the system flashed a new alert window in front of him, this one glowing red.
Claiming ownership requires a name.
The user has no registered name.
'How am I supposed to choose a name if I do not know how it will affect my growth? I do not even have the authority to access any information regarding names.'
The system stayed silent now.
Aaron looked toward the mask. His brows furrowed as he walked over and reached for it. If he could not claim ownership, then for now it had no use to him. Better to shove it into the inventory and forget about it until later.
He picked up the mask.
Nothing happened.
No glow. No prompt. No surge of power. Just cold weight in his hands.
He sighed and willed it into his inventory. The system accepted the command without resistance, and the mask vanished in a flicker of blue light.
Useless. At least for now.
He looked toward the ruined doorway, the place where the figure had disappeared. After a moment of hesitation, he followed.