Adrian crouched near the unconscious dark elf, her breathing shallow and uneven. Blood matted her torn clothes, her skin marked by bruises and burns—but none of it was her own. His brows furrowed. She was protecting someone… or something.

  He stood up slowly, voice low and cold.

  "Weapon System: Open permanent equipment categories. Clothing, medical, and sustenance."

  [PERMANENT CATEGORIES ONLINE]

  Clothing

  "Tactical Survival Attire – Type-R" — A modern Earth-grade, breathable, temperature-regulating black outfit with flexible armor inserts. 80 points.

  Medical

  "MediGel-X — Rapid pain suppressant and skin regenerative foam." 50 points

  Food

  "High-calorie MRE (Meal Ready-to-Eat): Beef stew, rice, energy bar, water." 30 points

  He purchased them in quick succession. The tactical outfit shimmered into existence beside him, folded and neat. The MediGel-X hissed in his hand, still cool to the touch. He knelt beside the elf and carefully applied the gel to her injuries, starting at her thigh.

  Her body tensed at his touch. When he grazed the side of her chest, her lips parted with a soft, accidental moan.

  Adrian froze, eyes darting to her face.

  "...Tch," he muttered under his breath, cheeks twitching slightly before continuing.

  With gentle precision, he dressed her in the black survival attire, the fabric molding to her figure. Once secured, he sat her up against the tree, pulled out the MRE, opened the pack, and fed her slowly. Her eyelids fluttered weakly as she chewed, the exhaustion still gripping her.

  "Eat up," he said, voice calmer now. "You're safe."

  The dark elf’s hands trembled as she finished the last bite of the warm meal. Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Thank you…”

  Adrian sat nearby under the shade, legs stretched, one hand resting on the grip of his holstered pistol. He didn’t meet her eyes.

  “You’re welcome.”

  His voice was cold. Steady. Like stone.

  A few seconds passed before he spoke again.

  “What happened?”

  She took a breath, her gaze distant.

  “My name is Lirien. I’m a princess of Virelith’ra… it’s a hidden kingdom deep in the Shadelorn Expanse.”

  Adrian’s expression didn’t change.

  She continued, voice shaking.

  “My father is sick. We left the capital quietly with a small escort to find something called the Lumisyl Bloom. It only grows where moonlight touches fresh water at dawn. It's said to heal even cursed wounds.”

  Her throat tightened.

  “We thought it would be safe. But they ambushed us near the river bend… bandits. Not just wild thugs. Trained. Armed. Like they were waiting.”

  She clenched her fists, looking down.

  “They slaughtered our guards. The others—my handmaidens, the scouts…”

  Her voice cracked.

  “Some of them were taken. I-I saw them drag the girls away. I could hear them scream. They didn’t even try to silence them.”

  Adrian's knuckles flexed faintly, but he stayed quiet.

  “One of my guards, Fenya… she helped me escape. Got stabbed doing it. I ran. I didn’t stop until… until I collapsed and saw you.”

  Adrian stood, brushing dust off his pants. His expression was unreadable.

  Then he spoke.

  “They’re not screaming anymore.”

  Lirien looked up, confused.

  “What…?”

  He finally met her gaze.

  “I counted fifteen. All dead. Shot through the skull, the chest, the heart.”

  He looked toward the distance where the bodies still smoked.

  “I made sure none of them walked away.”

  She didn’t speak. Her lips parted, but no words came.

  Adrian turned his back to her.

  “But this wasn’t random. They were too precise. Too quiet.”

  He adjusted the strap on his vest.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Someone wanted your party dead.”

  Lirien tried to sit up straighter.

  “Then… what do we do now?”

  He paused.

  “Now?”

  He looked over his shoulder, eyes cold like winter steel.

  “Now we find the bastards who paid for it.”

  Adrian stood tall, the wind brushing through his coat as he checked the area one last time.

  “Then let’s go,” he said calmly, turning toward her.

  Lirien blinked.

  “W-What are you doing?” she asked, watching as he crouched down slightly with his back turned to her.

  “Carrying you.”

  His voice was matter-of-fact. Cold, unshaken.

  “You’re injured. I don’t carry burdens, and I don’t walk with slow feet.”

  Her cheeks turned a soft shade of red.

  “I-I can walk if I try…” she whispered.

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached back—hands firm but careful—as they slid beneath her legs, gripping her thighs with steady strength. She gasped quietly, flustered at the sudden contact.

  “H-Hey…!”

  But he had already lifted her, effortless as if she weighed nothing. Her body pressed against his back and chest as he stood.

  Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, her breath brushing against his ear. Her heart raced, pressed to his back—his scent cold like gunmetal, his body unshakable.

  Adrian didn’t react. His steps were even, unfazed.

  “Hold on,” he muttered, eyes fixed ahead.

  “We’ve got bastards to find.”

  They walked through the broken woods, shadows long, and the blood-soaked wind at their backs.

  The late afternoon sun streamed through the thick canopy overhead, casting golden spears of light along the rocky trail. Adrian scanned the area for a suitable spot and stopped at a clearing flanked by trees and large boulders. Without a word, he raised his hand, summoning the Weapon System interface in his vision.

  “Deploy: [Tactical Shelter – TerraForm Tent],” he said.

  With a soft hum, a hexagonal capsule materialized beside him, hissed open, and expanded into a sleek, midnight-black shelter. The [TerraForm Tent] shimmered as it stabilized, its nano-fibers automatically anchoring to the rocky ground and adjusting to the terrain. Its matte walls pulsed faintly with adaptive camouflage, blending into the surrounding forest. Inside, it was surprisingly spacious: padded floor, soft ambient lights, and adjustable temperature controls—an Earth-made fortress in the wild.

  Adrian turned again to the Weapon System. “Open: Food Supply Menu.”

  He scrolled through the list before selecting a full set of meal and refreshment items:

  [Combat Ration: Searing Chicken Stir-Fry with Jasmine Rice] – Earth-standard.

  [HydroPurified Water Bottle]

  [Ice Blossom Treat: Glacier-Crafted Ice Cream Cone]

  With a soft flash, the items materialized inside compact packaging.

  Adrian walked over to the elf who sat quietly on a flat stone nearby. Though she wore a clean tunic and cloak from earlier provisions, her face still looked pale, worn down from exhaustion. Without speaking, he handed her the steaming food packet and water bottle.

  Her emerald eyes blinked, then softened. “Thank you…”

  He gave her the final item—the blue-tinted [Glacier-Crafted Ice Cream Cone]. She stared at it, confused.

  She blinked and turned it over in her hands. “What… is this? It’s cold,” she said, nose twitching as she touched her tongue to the surface and instantly flinched.

  Adrian stood with arms crossed. “It’s called ice cream. Frozen cream mixed with sugar, air, and flavorings. It’s a sweet treat from Earth. It cools your body and lifts your energy a little. Most people eat it when relaxing.”

  She took another slow lick, eyes widening at the flavor. “I… think I like it. It’s strange, but good.”

  Then, after a moment of silence, she looked up at him with serious eyes.

  “You’ve done so much… How can I repay you?” she asked quietly.

  Adrian turned his head slightly, gaze calm. “Your body.”

  Her eyes shot wide open. “W-WHAT?!”

  Her cheeks turned deep red, hands fumbling with the cone as she almost dropped it.

  “Th-that’s… too sudden!” she stammered. “W-Well… if it’s… you then… it’s… o-okay… m-maybe…”

  Adrian blinked, pausing for a second before a faint twitch hit his eyebrow. He realized the misunderstanding.

  “No,” he said, finally, his ears turning faintly red. “I meant your body needs rest. Inside the tent. You need to recover.”

  She froze mid-bite, realizing her mistake, and stared at the cone in her hands, visibly trembling.

  “O-oh,” she whispered, utterly mortified. “I… I thought… never mind…”

  He gestured toward the tent. “Eat. Hydrate. Rest inside. I’m going hunting to recover points and test a few things.”

  He turned and walked off down the trail without waiting for her response.

  She watched him go, her heart still pounding in her chest. She sat down slowly, biting into the ice cream again, though her face was still burning.

  “…If it’s you… maybe it’s okay…?” she whispered to herself, curling up near the fire, unsure if she was more embarrassed… or intrigued.

  As Adrian walked deeper into the moss-covered woods, the air grew still. His boots moved with quiet precision—no wasted motion, no hesitation. He stopped beneath a gnarled tree, shadows wrapping around him like a second skin.

  He exhaled calmly, then raised one hand.

  “Weapon System—open.”

  The interface shimmered into view in the air before him, crisp blue and black UI pulsing with data.

  > [Weapon System Accessed]

  Welcome back, Operator Adrian. What is your request?

  “Enable: Weapon Enthusiast Mode,” he said coldly.

  > [Weapon Enthusiast Mode: Online.]

  Profile: Adrian—Stealth Precision / Close-Combat Specialist.

  "Let’s find your instruments of execution, shall we?"

  His eyes narrowed.

  “I need something for hunting. Precision. Thin. Light. Easy to throw.”

  A pause. Then the system answered with reverent pride:

  > Suggested Weapon: [Phantom Dart — Wraith-Tip Throwing Knives]

  Category: Precision Throwables

  A sleek black case materialized beside him on a rising platform of light. It opened with a pneumatic hiss.

  Inside: six matte-black throwing knives nestled in velvet, each crafted to perfection.

  > Specs:

  Weight: 98 grams

  Length: 6.7 inches

  Material: Compressed Shadowsteel core with frictionless nano-coating

  Tip: Wraith-forged monomolecular edge—pierces leather, hide, or light armor

  Grip: Poly-memory texture, adapts to user’s palm print for zero-slip accuracy

  Balance: Center-calibrated, self-stabilizing mid-flight trajectory

  These blades don’t just fly—they whisper through the air. No glare. No sound. No mercy.

  Adrian picked one up, flicked it skyward, and caught it mid-spin with flawless ease.

  “Perfect,” he murmured.

  “But I’ll need something for up close too. Silent. Clean. Reliable.”

  > Request accepted. Matching close-combat profile…

  Recommended Weapon: [Valkenfang Blade — Combat Edition]

  Category: Silent Melee / Tactical Blade

  A second case shimmered into existence, this one longer and narrower. The latch clicked.

  Inside lay a knife that looked born for war.

  > Specs:

  Blade Length: 7.5 inches

  Steel: Cryo-tempered Black Damascus

  Edge: Precision honed, micro-serrated lower edge for flesh; razor upper edge for slice

  Spine: Reinforced tungsten rail for weapon blocking and disarming

  Grip: Tactical weave graphene hilt, blood/sweat-reactive non-slip texture

  Extras: Vibration-dampened hilt for no detection on impact

  A blade built for ghosts. It sings only in silence, and its song is final.

  Adrian gripped the hilt, gave it a slow testing swing.

  Balanced. Deadly. Elegant.

  He slid the knife into the black sheath at his back, then secured the throwing knives into his leg holster.

  His voice dropped into a whisper.

  “Let’s hunt.”