Chapter 11: The Unwanted Gift
The echo of Kaelen's words in the Abyssal Reef—"Stop following me"—lingered like a poison in my veins. The level-ups felt meaningless. Level 32. Agility: 28.13 (+68.41). My real Agility was brushing against 100, a number that should have been exhilarating. Instead, it felt like a countdown to an inevitable, tragic collision with my brother.
The silence at home was now a polished artifact, carefully maintained by my father and me. We were roommates, not family. He'd leave credits on the kitchen counter for food. I'd transfer a portion of the funds I'd secretly accumulated from selling low-tier dungeon materials through anonymous channels. We didn't speak.
My grinding took on a desperate, frantic quality. I wasn't just hunting for stats anymore; I was hunting for an answer, for a way to bridge the impossible gap I had created. I pushed into deeper sections of the Howling Caves, areas that bled into unstable, unregistered sub-dungeons. The monsters here were Level 45-48 Shadow-Stalkers, creatures that could briefly phase in and out of visibility. They were a perfect, brutal training ground.
I fought them for hours, my Shadow Bind and Umbral Blade Dance working in tandem. I'd snare one just as it phased, holding it materialized for a critical second, then sever its essence with a blade. The experience was a torrent.
[ Defeated Shadow-Stalker (Lv. 47). Experience Gained. ]
[ Apocalypse's Greed Activated. +0.01 to Agility. ]
Another fell, and another. The system chime was a constant refrain in the darkness.
[ Level Up! You are now Level 33. ]
[ +3 Free Stat Points. ]
I allocated on autopilot. Agility, Agility, Agility. Speed was my identity now. Speed to get there in time. Speed to get away. Speed to outrun the consequences.
—
Kaelen, in his own way, was grinding just as hard. The Ironheart Guild, impressed by his performance in the Reef and his rapid growth, gave him more responsibility. He was now leading a permanent, small squad. His reports, which I… accessed… through a backdoor in the city's public hunter network, were clinical and sharp. He made no more mentions of phantoms or helpers. He was building his reputation on cold, hard competence.
He was in the Scorched Canyon, a fire-attuned dungeon, clearing out a nest of Magma Hounds, Level 40. His team worked with practiced efficiency. Kaelen's role had evolved. He was no longer just a striker. He used Lightning Rush to draw aggro, kiting the pack leader while his team picked off the others. His Flame Whip had evolved, now leaving patches of burning ground that corralled the beasts.
When the last Hound dissolved, his status flared.
[ Level Up! You are now Level 23. ]
[ +3 Free Stat Points. ]
He didn't allocate them immediately. He stood amidst the cooling magma, his team celebrating around him. He was thinking. I could almost see the calculations behind his eyes. Strength had been his crutch, his way to assert his independence. But now, as a leader, he saw the value of something else. With a decisive mental command, he allocated all three points to Intellect. The change was subtle, but I knew him. His gaze became sharper, more analytical. He was learning to fight with his mind as well as his body. He was evolving into a true threat, and the thought filled me with a strange, painful pride.
—
My frantic farming in the deep caves paid off in a way I didn't expect. After a marathon session that took me to the brink of exhaustion, a new notification appeared, different from the rest.
[ Title Earned: Shadow's Bane ]
[ Effect: +10% Damage to all shadow-attuned creatures. Passive. ]
And with it, another surge of power.
[ Level Up! You are now Level 34. ]
[ +3 Free Stat Points. ]
I allocated the points, my mind numb. Agility, Stamina, Intellect. A more balanced approach, a concession to the sheer endurance required for these solo delves. My MP pool was now over 1400. I was a fortress of shadow and mana, and I was utterly alone.
It was then, in the profound silence following the level-up, that the idea came to me. It was a risk, a desperate gamble that could backfire spectacularly. But it was all I had left.
The next day, Kaelen's squad was assigned a high-priority, high-difficulty scouting mission into the upper layers of the Floiting Peaks, a dungeon of treacherous winds and territorial avian monsters. The primary objective was to retrieve a sample of Zephyr Hawk feathers, a rare A-tier material for crafting agility-enhancing gear.
It was the perfect opportunity.
I arrived hours before his team was scheduled to depart. The Floating Peaks were a dizzying array of floating islands and howling gales. I ignored the lower-level monsters, using Dungeon Walker to teleport from island to island, my gaze sweeping the skies. I found the Zephyr Hawk, a magnificent Level 49 creature of pure wind and light, nesting on the highest, most isolated peak.
This was not a monster to fight. It was a test of stealth and precision. I watched it, learning its patrol patterns. Then, I saw my chance. It took off on a wider circuit, leaving its nest unguarded for a precious three minutes.
I moved. I didn't fight a single monster. I used Shadow Stride to cross the chasms and Shadow Bind not to restrain, but to create a makeshift grappling hook, swinging silently onto its island. There, in the nest, were several shed, iridescent feathers, each humming with potent wind energy.
I took one. A single, perfect Zephyr Hawk Feather (A-tier).
Then I left. I didn't wait for Kaelen. I didn't interfere. I teleported back to the city and, from the shadows of an alley, used a drop-box service linked to the Ironheart Guild's logistics department. I packaged the feather with a simple, typed note, just like the first one.
'For your agility. - G'
I paid for express, anonymous delivery.
Later that evening, as I listlessly scanned the hunter network, I saw the update on the mission led by Hunter Kaelen Vance. Status: Completed - Objective Secured. The log noted a "fortuitous discovery of the target material in an accessible location, minimizing team risk."
There was no mention of a phantom. No mention of a gift.
But an hour later, my personal, encrypted terminal—the one only Kaelen and my father knew about—chimed. It was a message from Kaelen. The first direct communication since the Screaming Maw.
The message contained no text. Only a single image file.
It was a photo of the Zephyr Hawk feather, lying on a Guild-issue table. And next to it, placed with deliberate, violent precision, was the note I had sent. The one that read 'For your agility. - G'.
Someone had taken a dagger and had stabbed it through the paper, pinning the note to the table. The paper was torn around the blade, the ink of the 'G' smeared.
The message was clear. The gift was received. And it was rejected. Violently.
I stared at the image until the screen went dark, reflecting my own hollow expression back at me. The level-ups, the new title, the immense power coursing through me—it all meant nothing. I had tried to reach out, to help in the only way I knew how.
And in response, my brother had sent me a picture of a dagger through my heart.