Kevin thought he should've crush it well. He stared at the broken crystal in his palm. He crushed it again just to be sure, grinding it to powder between his fingers.
But nothing happened. No warmth flowing into his chest. No flicker of a core soul. No change in his soul fragment counter.
Nothing.
"Of course," he muttered bitterly. "Why would anything work properly for me?"
He wiped the powder off on the grass. The boar's corpse sprawled beside him, massive and almost twice his size, its tusks buried in the dirt.
All that danger… for a soul crystal that didn't even register.
He let out a long breath and looked at the sky through the break in the canopy. At least the air was breathable. At least there was light. At least he wasn't already dead.
I should find people, he thought. Anything. Anyone. A settlement, a camp, a road. Something that proves this world isn't completely screwed.
According to the global orientation from the government, Atlas was the safest of all known worlds. Tier 0. A world with human survivors.
The only other world with living people was Earth, and even Earth was crumbling as more portals appeared every month. Populations shrinking. Cities collapsing. Entire districts swallowed by breaches.
Same goes with Atlas. But the difference is that the human in Atlas have abilities. Their abilities didn't come from eclipse but they got it since they were born.
Kevin's stomach growled loudly, reminding him he hadn't eaten since before entering the portal.
"Fine, fine, I get it," he told himself. "Food first. Existential crisis later."
He sliced off a leg of the helion boar. The thing weighed at least twenty kilos, maybe more—dense with muscle.
He dragged the leg to a somewhat clearer patch of ground and started searching for dry wood. He improvised a cooking pit using two Y-shaped branches. Then he found a long, straight branch nearly as thick as his wrist to use as a skewer.
Primitive, but it'll work.
Now came the annoying part.
Fire.
Kevin knelt, rubbing two sticks together until his arms burned. "You know," he grumbled as sweat dripped down his forehead, "you could've at least made me a manipulator, system. A tiny flame spell. A spark. Something. But nooo, I get Unknown. Useless, trash, —"
A wisp of smoke appeared.
"Oh, thank god—come on, come on—"
He leaned in, covered the two sticks with wood shavings, and blew carefully, coaxing the ember. The smoke thickened, and with a final exhale, the twigs caught, spreading into a small, flickering flame.
He placed the ember in the pile of dry woods.
Kevin raised his fists triumphantly. "Yes! Take that, system—"
Then he froze.
Dozens of glowing red dots blinked in the darkness between the bushes.
They blinked… then moved.
Slowly.
Predatory.
Kevin's skin crawled. "That's—no. No, what are you—"
The creatures crept out. Rabbits. At least, they resembled rabbits—except for the elongated jaws, needle-sharp fangs, and twitching bodies low to the ground like wolves ready to pounce. Drool hung from their mouths, thick and glossy. Their eyes never left the boar meat.
Carnivores.
Lots of them.
Kevin gripped his helion dagger. "Oh, hell no. You little gremlins are not taking my dinner."
The first rabbit lunged without warning, a blur of gray fur and white fangs. Kevin barely twisted aside in time, feeling the wind of its leap brush his cheek. It landed behind him, snarling, and he spun toward it—only for three more to rush in from the opposite side.
"Seriously!?"
He dropped low and slashed upward in a wide arc. The dagger wasn't long, but it was sharp enough to carve open the nearest rabbit's throat. The creature collapsed, limbs twitching.
"Congratulations. You killed a Scavenger Rabbit."
He flinched at the sudden system voice—but didn't have time to process it. Another rabbit barreled toward his leg. Kevin kicked, catching it in the side. It skidded across the dirt, but another immediately took its place, jumping straight for his face.
Kevin instinctively raised his forearm. The rabbit's fangs sank into his arm. He roared and slammed it against a tree, once, twice, until it let go and fell limp.
Snarling filled the clearing.
Five more rabbits closed in, circling him. Their bodies moved in eerie coordination—scuttling sideways, shifting positions, eyes always locked on him and the meat behind him. Kevin stepped back until the fire warmed his calves. He couldn't retreat any further.
Fine.
Let them come.
The rabbits attacked at once, a chaotic storm of teeth and claws. Kevin swung wildly, dodging and countering, adrenaline blasting through his veins. A rabbit latched onto his ankle; he stabbed it. Another leaped at his chest…he grabbed it mid-air and hurled it into its companions.
One bit into his thigh.
Kevin screamed, slamming his dagger down over and over until it stopped moving.
At last, the momentum shifted. Bodies littered the ground, and the snarls became fewer. Two rabbits staggered toward him, blood matting their fur, and he finished them with quick, efficient strikes.
When only three remained—small, trembling, wide-eyed—Kevin hesitated.
He was breathing hard, covered in scratches, arms shaking.
They didn't attack.
They backed away.
Kevin lowered his dagger. "Go," he said hoarsely.
The rabbits turned and fled into the forest.
Kevin bent down, hands on his knees, catching his breath. His heartbeat thudded violently in his ears.
Then—
"Congratulations. You obtained Soul Fragment."
Again.
Then a third time.
Kevin blinked. Frowned. Straightened slowly as the notifications echoed.
"I… got fragments? But I didn't crush any crystals." He stared into the darkness where the three rabbits had escaped. "I let them go. I spared them."
The realization hit him like a punch.
Name: Kevin Morrell
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Mark: Misfit
SoulLink: 0 / 13 (Beggar)
Soul Fragments: 3 / 10
Soul Origin: Unknown
The system hadn't responded to crushed crystals, but sparing those monsters.
"That's the condition," he whispered. "That's… the requirement."
All the color drained from his face.
"To become stronger… I have to not kill them."
Soulborne.
The twisted creatures that devoured cities. The monsters that came from portals. The things that slaughtered his parents. The reason Earth was dying.
And the system wanted him to spare them.
A bubble of hysterical laughter leaked out of him, shaky and breathless. Then another. Soon, he was laughing uncontrollably—bending over, clutching his stomach, eyes tearing.
"You did me good, Eclipse system," Kevin choked out between fits of laughter. "You did me so damn good."
His laughter abruptly stopped.
He stared into the fire, expression empty, voice hollow.
"What a joke."