Unholy Player

Chapter 441: New Bloodline Talent

"He’s not worth drawing your weapons," Alvion said to the frustrated crowd as he slipped both knives back under his robe. He then looked at Adyr’s terrified expression, as if the man might lose control and wet himself, and added, "Go back to where you came from. Don’t ever call yourself a fighter again. If I hear it once more, I’ll kill you."

"Thank you, Priest. I will never... Thank you..." Adyr stammered, his voice trembling with relief as he bowed his head repeatedly, thanking him over and over for sparing his life.

He looked so grateful that he nearly fell to his knees to worship the merciful priest, which only made the spectators more disgusted. Some even looked like they were about to vomit.

But unlike the pitiful act the crowd saw, there was not a trace of shame or fear inside Adyr. Instead, he was feeling the satisfaction of success. He had achieved exactly what he intended, confirmed by the system message flashing before his eyes.

Actually, it hadn’t gone exactly as he planned, since his Sword Art of Existence hadn’t advanced, but even better, his Disguise talent evolved into a bloodline talent, far exceeding his expectations.

—

[Talent Recognition: "[Nihil (Lv1)] (Genesis)" confirmed.]

- What weight has existence before the heir of nothingness? There is no eye that has the power to see you, and no mind has the capacity to contain you.

- Proceed with registration to the Status Panel?

- Cost: 100 Energy

- Rewards: 20 Free Stat Points, Absence

—

It was clearly a bloodline talent tied to concealment, and based on its description, Adyr felt it was entirely the opposite of his Sword Art of Existence.

Even the ability Absence was the complete opposite of Presence in the name.

To better understand it, he proceeded to see what this new ability was all about as the system message changed, displaying a new prompt and description in front of him.

—

Absence: A formless form that none can describe or define, a nothingness beyond the reach of fate and destiny.

—

As usual, there is no manual describing how to use it. Adyr read the description in silence and contemplated it.

Hoping he could learn by experience, he registered the talent, burned 100 Energy, gained 20 stat points, and waited for something to change inside him.

Nothing happened. Unlike his other bloodline talents, where he could always feel their power guiding him toward understanding, this time there was no response at all. He felt nothing—no stir of energy, no whisper of instinct—and was left completely clueless about how to use this ability.

It was clearly not an aura type like Malice, Grace, or Presence that he could turn on and off, nor was it like Gaze, which was always active in front of his eyes.

There was literally nothing, as the description stated.

Maybe it’s a passive skill, he thought. Since it was a bloodline talent, it should have some overpowered effect, perhaps passively protecting him from investigative or tracking skills. If so, it would make it truly overpowered, but for now Adyr had no certain clue about it.

"Why are you still here? Are you waiting for me to change my mind? ’’Priest Alvion asked, reaching for his knives again, this time intending to kill the coward in front of him.

But before he could act, Adyr’s sudden change in demeanor stopped him in confusion.

"Sorry, sorry. I’m just waiting for a friend to come pick me up," he said calmly, with not a trace left of his earlier pitiful behavior.

"Have you lost your mind? " Alvion asked, thinking the stranger had finally gone insane from fear of death.

But it didn’t take long for him to understand that wasn’t the case. Adyr was truly waiting for someone, and that someone was the last person anyone expected to see in a place like this.

"Forgive me, Lord Adyr. Seeing you enjoying yourself, I didn’t wish to interrupt."

When the crowd and the priest blinked and opened their eyes, a figure with long silver hair and a robe as white as fresh snow was standing at the center of the sand arena, as if he had always been there. He kept his head slightly bowed to the stranger, showing the deference reserved for the highest ranks, as one would to an honored guest.

Most of the crowd stood frozen, unable to understand who this Lunari was or where he had come from. But among them were a few who had once seen this face before in their lives, making their expressions turn to pure disbelief.

"L–Lord Eryndor," Priest Alvion breathed in shock, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, as he was one of those who recognized the man.

He then dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against the hot arena sand, demonstrating his deep respect for one of the Lunari Kingdom’s Rank 4 Practitioners standing before him.

"I greet the Son of Will, Lord Eryndor," Alvion declared, letting his voice echo through the stunned silence.

Moments later, the rest of the crowd followed the priest’s example, dropping to their knees and pressing their foreheads to the dirt, offering their greetings to the godlike figure.

"We greet the Son of Will, Lord Eryndor."

Eryndor did not acknowledge the greetings, acting as if no one else existed, and simply waited for Adyr to speak.

"Thank you for your patience." Adyr inclined his head in a courteous reply. "I was only trying to improve my swordsmanship by learning from these talented people."

It was hardly enough to justify why he had appeared to beg for his life a short while ago, yet no one, not even Eryndor, dared to question the actions of a man of his standing.

In the end, every Practitioner had talents they prioritized and tried every path to improve. For Adyr, who was known to possess bloodline talents, it was only natural that he had unique methods to develop them, making his ways not so surprising.

"I hope they met your expectations," Eryndor said with a sigh, looking at the kneeling crowd. Watching so many mortals played in the hands of a powerful Practitioner was a strange feeling for him.

Glancing back at Adyr with measured civility, he added. "Let me show you the way to the mansion where my Lord is waiting for you, if you don’t mind."

"Sure, thank you." Adyr did not decline the invitation as he spread his wings.

Eryndor, too, called forth a huge white bird, hopped on its back, and soared into the air.

Adyr, meanwhile, glanced over the crowd one last time. "Sorry for the disturbance, and thank you for the hospitality. I will make sure to pay later for the kindness you’ve shown me." Then he lifted off, following the white bird upward.

Only after the two godlike figures vanished from view did the kneeling people muster the courage to raise their heads. They looked up at the sky, their faces sickly pale and their bodies trembling.

"I can’t believe he was actually a Practitioner," someone murmured, still unable to accept what had happened.

They not only called him a coward, but they also meant to kill him. Just thinking about it made some of them want to pass out.

"A Practitioner?" Priest Alvion turned to face the speaker, his eyes bloodshot and his voice tight with tension and rage. "Didn’t you hear what Lord Eryndor called him?"

With those words, everyone finally realized the detail they had missed.

"Adyr..." The name struck them the instant someone spoke it aloud.

They had not merely disrespected any Practitioner; they had scorned the very man said to have defeated the almighty Dragon Rider Sevrak and to be a close friend of Silverlight Zephan.