CHAPTER 89: FAILED YET AGAIN

Border City,

Main market,

The streets near the border city bustled with evening noise, vendors calling out their wares as lamps flickered to life. Arin walked with purpose, his eyes locked ahead.

The Reliquary... my new weapon is waiting for me.

But his steps halted when he noticed a man at a stall, counting coins. From the corner of his eye, Arin caught another figure—cloaked, moving with practiced silence. A quick hand snatched the pouch of money and slipped away.

Arin’s lips curled. A perfect situation for a hero.

"Hey! A thief stole your money!" he shouted, already darting after the culprit.

The victim panicked, patting his empty belt, while Arin vanished into a narrow alley. The cloaked thief stopped, cornered.

"Give it up," Arin demanded.

The man turned, clutching the pouch. "Please... it’s for my family..."

But Arin didn’t listen. His spear flickered into his grip for a moment, then vanished as he lunged barehanded instead. His fists slammed into the man, over and over, blood smearing across knuckles and cloak alike.

"You shouldn’t steal, you bastard!" Arin snarled, landing another blow that sent teeth clattering onto the stones.

The pouch fell. Arin picked it up, only to find another sack tucked inside the man’s cloak.

"So you’ve stolen before, huh?" His grin widened. He punched the man again, harder, until both his fists dripped crimson.

The thief wheezed through broken lips. "T-That’s... my... money..."

Before Arin could strike again, a small, trembling voice cried out.

"Daddy!!"

A boy no older than five stumbled into the alley, tears streaming down his face. He fell beside the bloodied man, shaking his shoulders. "Why... why you hurt my daddy? You... you’re a mean person!"

Arin blinked, incredulous. "Bad person? Me?" He scoffed. "Your father is a thief. I’m the hero, kid."

With that, he turned, ignoring the boy’s sobs.

"Wake up, Daddy! Please wake up!" the child wailed behind him.

Arin strode back to the stall, dropping the bloodstained pouch into the victim’s hands. The man hesitated, eyes wide at the crimson stains on Arin’s fists and the pouch itself.

"Th-Thank you..." he muttered, voice tight with fear.

Arin only smiled.

What a good hero I am. Helping people, beating thieves...

A familiar chime echoed in his ears.

[Ding]

[(Hidden Quest Completed: Hero of Justice)

Content: Help a person by catching and beating a thief.

Reward: Rank up in one stat.]

Arin’s smirk deepened, eyes gleaming. "I’m truly back."

Arin continued down the street, his steps light as if he were floating on his own sense of glory. What a perfect protagonist I am, he thought, admiring his now clean fists as though they were medals of honor.

But the people he passed gave him strange looks—some whispering, some avoiding his gaze altogether. A few even pulled their children closer, as though he were the danger, not the hero he believed himself to be.

Arin didn’t notice. Or rather, he refused to. To him, every glance was awe, every murmur was admiration.

Soon, he arrived at his destination.

The Reliquary.

From the outside, it looked like nothing more than a modest little shop tucked between larger buildings, easy to overlook. But Arin didn’t dare underestimate it—after all, the system itself had pointed him here.

He grinned, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Here I come... my upgrade," he muttered to himself.

Without hesitation, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The moment Arin stepped inside, his eyes widened.

Weapons.

Rows upon rows of them, neatly arranged on long racks that stretched far beyond what the tiny storefront should have allowed. Blades glimmered with faint enchantments, spears radiated sharp intent, staves pulsed faintly with mana, and even curious trinkets hummed with hidden power.

Arin tilted his head back, taking it all in with a smug smile. The interior was vast—far larger than the humble shop exterior suggested.

"Space manipulation," he muttered knowingly. "As I thought. The system didn’t lie. This shop really is something else..."

His excitement simmered just beneath the surface as he began walking deeper inside, eyes darting from weapon to weapon, wondering which one would be the key to his next "upgrade."

Just as Arin was about to wander deeper into the labyrinth of weapons, his gaze froze.

Lia.

She stood there beneath the glow of the enchanted lanterns, her presence so radiant it drowned out everything else.

She wore a deep burgundy velvet gown that clung with timeless elegance, the fabric glowing faintly under the shop’s dim light. The sweetheart neckline traced her collarbone with delicate grace, while the flowing skirt shimmered like liquid silk with every step. Gold accents traced the fabric, catching and amplifying the warmth of her dusk-pink eyes.

Arin’s breath caught. His lips parted unconsciously.

"So... so... beautiful," he muttered, his voice trembling. "So sexy... She... is mine. Mine alone. My heroine. YES..."

A thin line of drool slipped at the corner of his mouth as obsession eclipsed everything else in his vision. He didn’t even register the figure standing beside her. Not until—

A gleam of steel caught his eye.

A white, single-edged blade in her hands. At that moment, a translucent screen flickered before his vision:

[(Item Identified)

White Wind Sword

Class: Unknown

???

Pairs with Black Thunder Spear]

Arin’s eyes lit up with manic excitement.

"Yes..." he whispered. "She’s destined for me. I’ll claim the Black Thunder Spear, and we will become one..."

But then his gaze shifted.

And he saw him.

Ron.

Dressed neatly in a navy suit, standing right beside Lia—like a shadow intruding on Arin’s perfect picture. Arin’s expression twisted into pure disgust.

"Ron..." he hissed in his mind. "This villainous bastard... always in my way. Tricking Lia, stealing her from me..."

Then his eyes dropped to what Ron was holding.

A spear.

Not just any spear. The Black Thunder Spear.

Arin’s pupils contracted. Fury ignited in his chest, boiling into a storm. His aura burst out in crackling waves of yellow lightning, the air thickening with his rising killing intent.

"It’s mine..." his thoughts roared. "It’s MINE! You thief! You insect! YOU STOLE WHAT WAS DESTINED FOR ME!!"

With a primal scream that shook the racks of weapons, Arin bellowed:

"PUT THAT SPEAR DOWN, YOU BASTARD!!!"

.

.

.

Arin’s fury reached its breaking point. His aura erupted, blasting through the shop like a thunderstorm unchained. Bluish-green lightning hissed and cracked across his body, snapping through the air like the fangs of a wild beast. His hair spiked upward into jagged bolts, every strand buzzing with static energy as his eyes glowed with manic rage.

He roared, his voice raw and trembling with obsession:

"Give that spear back, you bastard!"

Ron’s eyes widened in shock. Arin—here? And not just here, but radiating power, already pushing into his thunder form. The atmosphere warped with the charge of his lightning.

But Ron didn’t flinch. Instead, blue flames surged from his body like a rising inferno, heat distorting the ground beneath him. His aura pressed against Arin’s like colliding storms, his hair whipping upward in the blaze in flame like motion.

"You want the spear?" Ron’s voice was calm, but edged with fire. "Why? I already have it. You can choose another."

Arin’s face twisted, veins bulging with rage.

"Shut up!!! That spear belongs to me! It can only be used by me!!"

Confusion flickered across Ron’s eyes, and even Lia’s. But she wasn’t about to let Arin’s madness spiral any further.

With a sharp breath, she unleashed her aura. Emerald winds flared, but instead of staying green, they shifted—turning into a radiant pink wind that shimmered with butterfly-shaped energy. Her long golden-brown hair shortened and sharpened in the surge, whipping around her face with lethal elegance.

The white single-edged sword pulsed in her grip, alive with that same pink wind. Lia stepped forward, her voice fierce:

"Back down, Arin! You’re not hurting anyone!"

For a moment, the lightning around him faltered. His heroine—his destined partner—was standing against him.

Arin’s lips trembled.

"Lia... no... You don’t understand. That spear—and your sword—they’re a pair! We were supposed to have them together! You and me! We’re destined!"

Disgust flashed across her eyes, sharper than any blade.

"Shut up, Arin."

Her words cut deeper than his lightning ever could.

Arin staggered, shaking, his mouth opening in disbelief. "Y-you..."

Then—

A translucent system window flickered into existence before his eyes.

[(Item Identified)

Black Thunder Spear

Class: Unknown

???

Pairs with White Wind Sword]

Arin’s breath caught. A crazed smile began to form—until the text shifted.

The word "Thunder" began to melt, the letters dripping away like burning tar. His manic grin froze.

The letters reformed into new words.

Black Flame Spear.

Arin’s eyes went wide. His mind blanked.

Then, another system window appeared—this one red, pulsing with a harsh warning.

[MISSION FAILED]

The words seared into his vision.

Arin stood frozen, the storm of his aura stuttering into chaos.

Arin’s lightning sputtered, his once-raging aura dimming but not vanishing. The jagged arcs still hissed faintly around him, his body trembling, but the fury had drained away. He stood frozen in his partial thunder mode, hair spiked, static buzzing—yet his eyes were blank, unfocused, like someone staring into a void.

His lips quivered, voice cracking, barely more than a whisper.

"W-wha... I... failed...? Yet... again?"

His chest heaved unevenly, each breath shaky.

"I... just... my... system... wha... but... that... spear..."

The words tangled into broken mutters, his voice hollow, his hands twitching as though trying to grasp something slipping away.

He stared at the spear in Ron’s grip like a man staring at the ruins of his entire world.

Muttering. Shaking. Crumbling.

Lia felt her stomach twist. The arrogance, the cockiness—gone. What stood in front of them now wasn’t the arrogant guy she remembered. It was something unstable. Something dangerous.

Her grip tightened around her new white blade as she whispered, almost trembling, "Ron... this is scaring me. What’s happening to him...?"

Ron’s gaze hardened. He reached out and grasped her free hand, squeezing it firmly. His flames didn’t flare this time—he only steadied her.

"I don’t know," Ron said quietly, his eyes never leaving Arin’s twitching figure. "But Lia... I’m with you."

Lia’s breath slowed at his words, the panic in her chest easing as she held onto Ron’s warmth. Together, they stood ready.

Across from them, Arin muttered again, his voice broken, his lightning flickering weakly around him.

"...failed... failed... again..."