CHAPTER 121: SORRY... I DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS

The darkness that surrounded the figure began to stir, swelling outward as if the hooded man were breathing life into it.

The smoke-like wisps thickened, churning and coiling around him with a malicious will of their own.

The entire floor seemed dimmer for it, as though the very light was being swallowed whole.

"You even managed to dodge my earlier attack..." the warped voice said again, this time heavier, more deliberate, almost testing him.

The figure tilted its head slightly, the motion slow and unsettling, before continuing, "Answer me now. Who are you?"

Riley’s eyes narrowed to slits, his jaw tightening.

His frown cut deeper as a familiar, almost instinctive reaction welled within him. The shadow aura around his body flared violently, rippling like black fire.

It thickened with each passing heartbeat, spreading until it was no longer a faint outline but a dense, suffocating shroud of darkness that wrapped him from head to toe.

It wasn’t just covering him—it was consuming him, making him one with the shadows themselves.

The aura crawled across his skin like liquid ink before stretching outward to envelop his daggers, coating the blades in an oily sheen of darkness.

They pulsed with lethal intent, vibrating faintly in his grip as if eager to be used.

Power coursed through his veins, raw and intoxicating. Every muscle fiber burned with a heightened strength, every nerve sparked alive with a speed that felt unnatural, and his lungs filled with an energy so thick it nearly made him lightheaded.

He could feel his mana reserves drain rapidly as he activated the skill, but then, there was no way he would deactivate it.

Because right now, he could tell the only thing such a choice would result to was death.

’Shadow shroud.’ he mumbled inwardly, clenching his hands around his daggers.

Its effect surged through him like a raging tide, multiplying every aspect of his being by one hundred and fifty percent.

Strength, agility, endurance, vitality, mana—it all soared beyond his base limits.

On top of that, he knew the defensive might hidden in its cloak.

With it active, any attack with less than five thousand damage points would simply shatter against him, rendered meaningless.

A-rank. Worthy of its rank without a doubt.

Yet despite the surge of power, despite the solid wall of defense enveloping his body, Riley didn’t feel safe.

The weight pressing down on his chest only grew heavier, his instincts screaming that the danger before him wasn’t one to be measured by simple numbers.

The hooded figure let out a low chuckle, muffled and warped, reverberating like echoes from a cave.

He raised a hand and tapped at his chin—or at least, that was what it seemed like.

His form was so drowned in shadow that Riley couldn’t see a face, not even the faintest feature.

The motion was only recognizable from the slight shift of his stance.

That alone sent another ripple of unease down Riley’s spine.

His vision was sharper now than ever before—heightened by the his new class’ empowering effect—yet it made no difference.

He could only see darkness, endless and absolute, smothering every attempt his eyes made to pierce it.

’Darkness...m the thought flickered across his mind, sharp and chilling.

With that element in play, his suspicion hardened into grim certainty.

The figure standing before him wasn’t human.

He was a demon.

Riley wasn’t entirely sure about his assumption. The thought alone felt off.

No demon should be appearing at this stage of the game. That much he knew.

Their first true appearances were only supposed to happen in the second city, far ahead of where they were now.

The timeline didn’t fit—at least, not with the version of Apocalypse he remembered.

Which only left him with one explanation.

This was a human.

A human who had given up everything... and sold their soul to a demon.

Riley’s expression darkened at the thought.

That kind of thing wasn’t common, but then, it wasn’t impossible or outside the realm of possibility.

He had heard of it happening in his past life, and had also witnessed it a few times.

Players who had lost all hope and courage during the war against demons in his past life were usually the ones who sold their souls to demons.

Of course, only the strong ones were granted the power of darkness while the weak were merely used as fodder by the demons.

However, this was also the case with NPC’s and other characters within the game.

Humans wielding darkness.

It wasn’t something that came naturally. Darkness was... different. It wasn’t like fire, or water, or even shadows. It was alive. It devoured.

It was an element closer to the abyss itself than anything else. To gain control over it without being born with the affinity... you needed a contract.

A binding oath, one that demanded a price greater than life itself.

And the only beings who would offer such a pact... were demons.

His best guess was that the figure in front of him was one of those pitiful souls who had traded their humanity for a taste of abyssal power.

A puppet who thought themselves in control, but in truth, were bound by chains far darker than they could see.

Even so... it made the situation no less terrifying.

Riley’s grip on his daggers tightened, knuckles turning pale beneath the faint shimmer of his shadow shroud.

His heartbeat drummed like a war cry in his ears, steady yet too loud, as if reminding him how alive he still was.

Could he handle this?

At his current strength, the answer was clear.

No.

Not if this man was truly a demon. Or even worse... something beyond it.

The worst part wasn’t even his doubts about demons appearing too early. It was the fact that he couldn’t gauge the hooded figure’s strength. Not at all.

No numbers appeared above his head. No presence that Riley could measure in comparison.

Only darkness.

A weight so heavy that even with the boost coursing through his veins, his instincts screamed at him.

Stronger.

This man was stronger than him.

And that knowledge alone wasn’t enough to guarantee his survival—let alone a victory.

Riley’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head, forcing himself to breathe.

’Stay focused...’ he thought, letting out a sharp exhale.

Now wasn’t the time to be swallowed by speculation. Letting his mind wander here, of all places, was the same as signing his own death warrant.

The hooded figure’s voice broke the silence.

"You haven’t said anything."

The words carried no rush, no impatience. But there was a dangerous edge hidden beneath the distortion.

He took another step forward.

The sound was subtle, his boot pressing against the dirt, but the change it caused was far from subtle.

The air shifted again.

Heavier. Colder. Like the world itself recoiled from his presence.

Riley felt his throat tighten. A bead of sweat slid down his cheek, cutting a line across his skin. He chuckled dryly, his voice rough as he forced sound out.

His eyes narrowed into slits, and his expression hardened.

"Is that so...?" he muttered.

Then, louder—his voice steady, edged with defiance—

"But I’m sorry. I don’t talk to strangers."

The hooded figure’s hands slowly curled into fists, the motion deliberate, almost too calm for the words that followed.

"Then die," he said, his tone low, cold, and final.

And then he moved.

To Riley, it was as if the figure had simply disappeared.

One moment he was standing there, dark and unreadable, and the next—gone.

His heart skipped a beat, his vision blurring as the air distorted before him.

Swoosh!

The figure materialized right in front of his face, so close that Riley could see the edges of the hood ripple against the force of his movement.

All Riley saw was steel. A short dagger gleamed faintly in the dark, its tip slicing straight toward his head.

’When did he even pull that out?!’ he thought, his mind reeling for a hand a second.

He hadn’t seen it, hadn’t heard the sound of metal unsheathing, nothing.

But instinct screamed louder than thought.

With a sharp intake of breath, Riley’s body shifted on its own, shadows gathering at his feet as he burst to the side with [Lunge].

His form blurred, sliding across the ground, the rush of wind tearing past his ears.

He hadn’t even touched down, his boots still hovering inches from the dirt, when a chill crawled down his spine.

The figure was there again.

Right in front of him.

’What—?!’

Riley’s teeth clenched, his dagger flashing up to meet the strike.

The clash never came. His blade cut through empty space, slicing nothing but air.

The hooded figure had vanished mid-swing.

And then—

He was at Riley’s side.

Riley’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating in panic as his instincts tried to catch up. But it was too late.

Bang!

Something slammed brutally into his ribs, the impact cracking like a sledgehammer against bone.

The world tilted. His breath caught.

Pain erupted in his side, sharp and unforgiving, forcing him to grit his teeth. His body was thrown off balance, the hit sending him staggering.

His boots scraped the dirt as he fought to steady himself, shadow shroud flickering wildly around his frame.

His mind rang with the thought he hadn’t wanted to face—

He’s too fast!

—1300!

The notification flashed red before Riley’s eyes, burning itself into his vision as if mocking him.

His breath hitched, his chest heaving while the sting of the number lingered louder than the pain in his ribs.

’Over a thousand damage?! From just that?’ His mind reeled, unable to piece it together.