“The Kin-Sying Bonus”

  "Why?" Jay asked, sitting cross-legged in front of the two brothers. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "You have to kill your own family to level up? That's freakish. Don't you get XP for sying monsters or criminals instead?"

  The Rank 3 brother scoffed, leaning back against the cold wall. "Monsters give you scraps. Strangers give you nothing. But family?" He looked at his younger brother with dead eyes. "The System rewards sacrifice. The closer the blood, the higher the multiplier. You talk about peace and love like they are free. Try preaching philosophy when you are starving."

  "Brother..." the Rank 2 younger sibling whispered. "Don't talk like that. They might kill us."

  "Let them," the older one spat. "Better them than me having to carve your heart out."

  Aryan watched them, his Seer eyes scanning the invisible threads of fate binding the two brothers. They were red, tangled, and dripping with imminent violence.

  "Forget the philosophy," Aryan said, stepping forward. "Do you want to kill each other? If you say no, we won't interfere. We walk away."

  The older brother paused. The aggression drained from his face, repced by a hollow exhaustion.

  "It’s not about want," he whispered. "It’s about survival. The war demands soldiers. If I don't kill him, we both stay weak. And if we stay weak, the Monarch kills us both."

  "The War," Amara interrupted, her voice sharp. "Who is the leader of this state?"

  "There is no single leader. A Council leads the state. The highest is Rank Four."

  "Rank Four?" Amara raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

  "Don't tell me," Jay groaned, rolling his eyes. "You guys are the 'chosen successors' of this district, aren't you? And you have to kill your sibling to prove you're ruthless enough to join the Council? That is so cliché."

  The younger brother blinked. "You... you are exactly right. How did you know?"

  "I read too many novels," Jay muttered.

  "Enough," Amara said, checking her daggers. "Take us to this Council. We’re wasting time."

  "We don't need to go anywhere," the older brother said, checking his wrist. "Wait three seconds. They scheduled a pickup. They’re coming to collect the survivor."

  Three.

  The air in the room grew heavy.

  Two.

  The temperature dropped.

  One.

  BOOM.

  The front door didn't open; it disintegrated.

  A figure stepped through the dust and debris. It was a woman, tall and lean, wearing armor made of shifting bone ptes. Her presence reeked of blood—old blood, fresh blood, family blood.

  "Oh," she drawled, her voice scratching against their eardrums. "You brought guests. Or are they distant cousins?"

  She smiled, revealing teeth filed to points.

  "Sy as many as you want, boys. The more you kill, the faster you grow. I just sughtered my own sister this morning. Wanna see the body?"

  A shiver ran through the whole group. They shrank back, terrified.

  DING.

  “Mission Update”

  Aryan’s eyes fshed gold. Beside him, Amara’s eyes fshed gold.

  The Seer ability triggered violently.

  A vision flooded their mind: This woman standing atop a mountain of corpses. The state burning. Civilians screaming. She wasn't just an enforcer; she was a cancer. If she lived, she would ascend to the Council, kill the other members, and lead this entire region into a suicidal war against the neighboring pnet.

  "Oh, that is so obvious," Sam’s voice boredly echoed in Aryan’s head. "She has 'Tyrant' written all over her vibe she is excluding. You don't need a vision to see she's bad news."

  "What is the mission, Nine?" Aryan asked under his breath.

  "Sy the Corrupt Hunter," She replied. "Target identified as a 'Chaos Seed.' Elimination is mandatory to unlock the next destination."

  Amara stepped forward, her daggers materializing.

  "Wait," Aryan said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Let me."

  Amara paused, looking at him. "She is a Rank Four Elite. She burns through stats like fuel."

  "I haven't fought a single real opponent since the training started," Aryan said, his eyes locking onto the bone-armored woman. "I need to know if I can do this."

  Amara studied his face, then stepped back. "Don't die. She fights dirty."

  The woman ughed, a screeching sound. "A new face? You want to challenge me, little boy? Challenges aren't new. Survivors are."

  She didn't wait for a countdown. She lunged.

  She moved like lightning, a blur of bone and malice. She didn't aim to disable; she aimed to decapitate. Her fist, wrapped in jagged bone, shot toward Aryan’s throat. All of Aryan's vital parts. To send him to hell in a single punch.

  "Left," Sam commanded.

  Aryan didn't think. He leaned left, feeling the wind of her punch graze his cheek.

  “Dark Matter: Manifest”

  Bck energy, heavy and dense as a colpsing star, gathered in Aryan’s right hand. It didn't form a shield; it formed a jagged, vibrating bde of pure void. Like the sword intent.

  CLANG.

  Bone met Dark Matter.

  The impact shockwave cracked the floor beneath them.

  "Impressive," the woman hissed, her eyes widening. "But you're slow!"

  She spun, unleashing a flurry of kicks and sshes. Aryan blocked, parried, and dodged. He was clumsy compared to Amara, relying on his stats rather than technique, but his eyes saw everything. He saw her muscles tense before she struck. He saw the flow of her energy.

  "Don't underestimate her," Amara’s voice echoed in his mind through their soul connection. "She's losing patience. She's about to burn her Life Force."

  The woman roared, frustration boiling over. Her skin turned red, steam rising from her pores.

  "You think you can outsmart me?" she screamed. "System! Burn the whole Agility! Converts to Speed!"

  She vanished.

  She was moving faster than sound now, a red streak aiming for Aryan’s heart.

  Aryan stood still.

  He remembered the first day. He remembered Amara in the ballroom. The efficiency. The geometry of the kill.

  Duck. Roll. Ssh.

  Aryan dropped low, letting her lethal strike pass millimeters over his head. As she overextended, exposed and off-bance, Aryan swung the Dark Matter bde upward.

  He didn't just swing wild. He mimicked Amara’s signature move.

  “Technique: Triple Shadow Ssh”

  SLASH. SLASH. SLASH.

  Three cuts in the span of a single heartbeat.

  One to the tendon. One to the liver. One to the neck.

  "Woosh," Jay whispered from the sidelines.

  The woman stumbled past him. She took two steps, her hand reaching for her throat, trying to hold the blood in. She turned to look at Aryan, confusion in her dying eyes.

  "How..." she gurgled.

  She colpsed.

  THUD.

  The silence in the room was absolute. The two alien brothers stared at Aryan as if he were a god of death.

  DING.

  “Target Eliminated.”

  “XP Gained.”

  The holographic map in front of Aryan exploded outward, updating with new data. A red line drew itself from their current location to a jagged mountain range in the distance.

  “Next Destination: The War Zone.”

  “New Intel Unlocked.”

  “Target: Rank Six Entity The Warlord”

  “Mission Parameter Update: Combat is not viable. Target is too strong.”

  Aryan frowned. "Not viable?"

  “Objective: Checkmate.”

  “Deadline: 3 Days.”

  "Checkmate?" Aryan wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking at Amara. "Nine says we can't fight the next one. We have to... outpy him? How do we do that?"