In this world power comes in many forms. Steel cuts flesh and magic cuts distance. However, there was a unique type that directly cut mind.
A forgotten ability whispered by a sect the empire reduced to ash:
Mind-Eclipsed order.
They believed that psychic powers could manifest real force — not as energy or sorcery, but as pressure.
One of the powers was a type of stun skill without a cost which made it perfect for PVP.
We called it:
[ Mindveil Shock ]
Effect:
A focused burst of thought-pressure that paralyzes the target. Its potency scales solely with mental status and willpower. Cooldown is 3 hours.
In the game, this was a brief content that was immediately taken down after the release. Many players enjoyed those psychic abilities but after implementing the skill, we realized how ridiculous it actually was, hence why we decided to take it down.
In the other hand, this world kept what we the developers abandoned.
Veinhelm — the original — never knew it existed. Despite being right outside his home in a nearby forest, no one knew how to get it.
I closed the dusty ledger and stood.
If I want to survive in this world, I need every ounce of strength.
*
*
*
Veinhelm walked across the courtyard with an expression I had never seen in him.
I watched from the balcony until he slipped beyond the gates, then drew my hood and followed, stepping lightly down the stairwell.
Trees swallowed him as he entered the northern forest path. The northern woods were empty, unsurveyed, forsaken.
As I followed, a strangeness crept into the air.
The forest felt… attentive. As if it were watching him.
What is he doing?
The deeper he went, the worse the feeling grew — a faint pressure behind my eyes, like the beginnings of a headache that never fully arrived.
I stopped behind a tree, breath shallow.
Up ahead, Veinhelm stepped into a clearing, and there I saw it.
A circle of old stone pillars.
A broken altar.
Dust drifting upward although no wind blew.
"??"
None of the archives, maps nor records mentioned anything about this altar.
Veinhelm approached the altar without any hesitation.
As though he'd been here before.
Those patterns… what are they? This writing… I have never seen it before.
He placed his hand on the altar—
And spoke.
A string of old, weighted words I didn't understand.
The ground trembled.
A low hum bled through the air, pressing faintly against my skull. My breath caught — instinctively. A flicker of fear shivered along my spine.
A feeling like standing too close to thunder moments before it strikes.
The pillars glowed.
The light was pale and violet, like starlight reflected on deep water.
It pulsed once — and the pressure behind my eyes sharpened.
My knees almost buckled.
"What… is this?"
The force was faint, barely more than a whisper.
But even that whisper almost dropped me to the forest floor.
If it had been in my direction—
I didn't want to finish that thought.
Veinhelm absorbed that pressure like he had expected it.
He turned slightly—
not enough to see me outright,
but enough for me to feel his awareness brush past my hiding place.
My pulse spiked.
Did he… know? That I was here? No way… I'm using a 7th grade stealth spell.
I stepped back instinctively, boot crunching softly on a twig.
Veinhelm looked toward the trees.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
The forest felt colder now, and so did he.
And as I followed him back toward the estate, a truth took shape in the pit of my stomach:
Whatever he awakened in that shrine…
It wasn't something that should exist.
*
*
*
Silvia stepped out of the treeline, breath unsteady, hood shadowing her eyes.
The clearing still hummed with the fading tension left behind by whatever Veinhelm had done.
He didn't look at her.
He simply turned slightly, acknowledging her presence without granting it importance.
She swallowed hard.
"Veinhelm," she began, voice tight, "what is this altar?"
He didn't respond.
She took a step closer.
"I'm speaking to you."
Still nothing.
Her jaw clenched.
"I felt something unnatural. Whatever that was it somehow affected my mind. That shouldn't be possible what have you awaken?"
Veinhelm brushed a bit of dust from his glove, as though her question was unheard.
Silvia's voice sharpened, a blade drawn from instinct.
"Answer me."
At last he spoke—quiet, even.
"Why would I answer ? "
Silvia blinked.
"???"
" There's no reason " he repeated.
She stepped forward, voice rising.
"Veinhelm, I followed you because I thought you might put yourself in danger, and instead I find you invoking some unknown force. You owe me an explanation."
He finally turned in full.
His expression hadn't changed from before the ritual.
"No," he said again. "I don't owe you anything."
Silvia's breath caught — a tiny sound she hated herself for making.
Veinhelm studied her for a moment, not with cruelty but with cool detachment.
"You're demanding answers from someone who owes you neither trust nor disclosure," he said. "That's foolish."
She stared, struck silent.
He continued:
"You are not an ally. Not a partner. Not someone whose loyalty I rely on."
His tone remained steady, almost polite — which made the words sharper.
"You are a stranger walking in the same direction as mine. Nothing more."
Silvia's fingers curled around her staff.
"If you don't trust me," she said slowly, "then why did you let me follow?"
"I didn't," he answered. "You followed on your own. And I allowed it because it changes nothing about the outcome."
Silvia stepped back as if pushed.
"So that's it?" she asked. "You awaken something dangerous, and you expect me to pretend nothing happened?"
"I expect nothing from you," Veinhelm said. "Your reactions are yours alone."
Her breath hitched again — not fear of the power, but of the wall he'd built.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he was already walking past her, voice smooth, final:
"Do not mistake proximity for familiarity Archemage."
Silvia watched him vanish into the trees.
***
By the time the shrine was behind me and the forest path narrowed again, my breathing had finally steadied.
But my thoughts?
They were a mess.
Silvia showing up had rattled me, yes — but what truly made my blood simmer was what came after.
The way I spoke to her.
It was the 'Egoistic' Trait firing off like some defective reflex.
I rubbed my forehead, feeling the faint pulse of the Mindveil shock beneath the skin — but that wasn't what bothered me most.
It was the realization that my trait had hijacked the entire conversation.
"Bold, cold, dismissive," I muttered under my breath.
"Of course. That's exactly what this trait does."
In the game, players hated fixed personality traits.
For me, It made Veinhelm obnoxious, rude, alienating — even when being cooperative would've helped, but it didn't matter back then it was just some third rate villain…
living with it?
Living with a trait that automatically disrespects anyone who questions you?
Silvia had come to the shrine frightened, confused, curious—
and I treated her like a thief, stranger, someone beneath explanation.
Not because I wanted to, but because 'Egoistic' pushed every instinct toward superiority.
"What a brilliant mechanic," I growled quietly. "Humiliate allies for no reason. Perfect design."
I kicked a fallen branch off the path.
The memory replayed itself whether I wanted it to or not
'You're a stranger.'
'I owe you nothing '
Delivered with a tone so flat and certain even I flinched thinking about it now.
"God damn it," I hissed. "I didn't even mean half of that."
The trait had taken over the moment she demanded answers from me.
It always flared strongest when Veinhelm's authority was questioned, and Silvia had questioned me directly.
That was exactly the kind of scene Egoistic was coded to produce —
a self-centered, dismissive lord who drives everyone away.
But the problem is that I wasn't Veinhelm.
And Silvia…
Silvia didn't deserve to be spoken to like that.
She had followed me because she was worried about the ability.
She had demanded answers because she knew something was wrong with this skill.
And I rewarded that with disdain.
My jaw tightened.
"If she hates me now," I muttered, "I earned it."
A bitter laugh escaped me — humorless, sharp-edged.
"Imagine that: a trait so stubborn it ruins relationships without my consent."
I ran a hand through my hair, exasperated.
I stopped in the middle of the path and let out a long, controlled breath.
"Egoistic," I whispered to myself, "you trash piece of code. If you sabotage me again—"
I didn't finish the sentence.
There was no point threatening a personality trait.
I needed to learn how to stop the trait from speaking for me.
Because if I didn't…
I might turn my allies to enemies… everyone…. maybe except Alexander.
*
*
*
A courier intercepted me in the corridor the moment I stepped into the estate, bowing so low his forehead nearly brushed the floor.
"M-My lord, a message arrived from the Imperial Academy.
From… Lady Lyrienne Valeor."
A weight settled in my chest.
Of course she would write now.
Of course the world wouldn't give me even an hour of quiet after Silvia.
I dismissed the courier and broke the seal.
Her handwriting flowed like calm water—
elegant, round, gentle.
The writing of someone who didn't want to hurt anyone,
even when telling the truth.
I read:
Lord Veinhelm Drakan,
Allow me to first offer my sincere congratulations. News of your succession to Head of House Drakan reached the Academy this morning. I hope the transition has been smooth, and that you are surrounded by steady counsel in this time of great responsibility. You have inherited a powerful name. One that shapes the course of the Empire. I pray you will wield that weight with care.
As for our personal arrangement… I imagine the change in your duties must be overwhelming. And so, I will not burden you with immediate questions. But to be honest — your new position fills me with a measure of uncertainty. Not because I doubt your capability, but because your actions in the past have often been… driven by emotion rather than prudence. Please do not take this poorly. It is not fear of you that troubles me. It is fear of what you might choose to do if that passion flares in the wrong direction again. I wish for this new chapter of your life to bring wisdom, stability, and, perhaps, a gentler approach than the one you carried before. When you are ready, I hope we may discuss the future of our engagement with calm minds.
Until then,
May your leadership guide House Drakan to brighter days.
Respectfully,
Lyrienne Valeor.
I stared at the signature for a long moment.
She congratulated me.
She wished me well.
But every line, every carefully chosen word, whispered the same truth:
"I am afraid of what you might do."
The old Veinhelm left scars in places I could not reach.
And Lyrienne — kind, patient Lyrienne — was trying her hardest to be gentle with a man she could not trust.
I folded the letter with a calm hand.
Inside, something tightened.
I sat at my desk, Lyrienne's letter resting beside the blank parchment.
Her gentle handwriting.
Her careful apologies.
Her fear of my past choices.
But I wasn't the man she wrote to.
I dipped my quill in ink.
This time, I didn't fight the Egoistic Trait.
I directed it. For the sake of her freedom, and for my own.
My hand didn't tremble as I wrote:
Lady Lyrienne Valeor,
I have read your message.
Your congratulations are acknowledged. Your concerns are noted. Your honesty is appreciated.
Regarding the engagement, you may forget it.
I have no intention of binding you to an arrangement born from my predecessor's sentimentality.
You owe House Drakan nothing,
and I require nothing from you.
You will receive no interference from me now or in the future.
Our paths no longer intersect.
That is all.
, Veinhelm Drakan.
I folded the parchment, sealed it with the Drakan crest, and handed it to the courier waiting outside.
"Deliver this," I said.
The courier glanced at the seal, then at my expression.
He swallowed hard and nodded.
When he left, silence settled over the room.
The old Veinhelm would've torn his heart out to keep her. His fiancé was everything to him.
The new one?
He didn't have space for some coded emotions.