Mutant awakening: My evolution knows no bounds

"He's just a student without an active skill slot. The girl might be a Grade 4, but she looks weak. Taking them both down and stealing that pouch shouldn't be too hard," the crafter thought to himself, a dark, calculating grin spreading across his face.

Business had been slow lately, and this was his golden opportunity. Two academy students, both seemingly naive, made for perfect targets. If he played his cards right, he could not only fleece them but also cover his tracks, avoiding any backlash from the academy. After all, these two wouldn't be missed if they disappeared.

Clearing his throat, he shifted his stance behind the counter, adopting a more business-like tone, though mischief still danced in his eyes. "I'm afraid this still won't be enough. You'll need to add five extra Grade 2 fangs or perhaps a single Grade 3 claw," he said, his voice smooth but loaded with ill intent as he eyed Silas and Angelica.

Silas held the crafter's gaze for a few beats, his eyes cold and unblinking. After a moment, he retrieved his ten fangs from the counter, showing no sign of frustration. Without a word, he turned to leave, his movements measured, calm.

"Let's go, Angelica. This guy clearly isn't interested in doing business," Silas said quietly, his gaze briefly meeting hers.

The crafter's eyes widened in disbelief as they began to walk away. Panic flashed across his face. "I'm not ready to do business? I just told you the price!" he shouted, the desperation creeping into his voice.

Silas paused mid-step but didn't turn around. His voice remained level, almost detached as he spoke over his shoulder. "Earlier, you told me to add ten more fangs to hit the 1,500 token mark. Now you're asking for five extra? What do you take us for?" His tone was calm but sharp, each word cutting deeper than the last, as though he had expected this game from the start.

The crafter's confidence wavered. He quickly changed tactics, realizing his ploy was backfiring. "All right, how about this—just add three more fangs. Thirteen total, and I'll craft your blade," he offered, his voice loud and insistent. He was trying to salvage the deal, his greed outweighing his pride.

But Silas didn't even slow his stride, his back turned to the man as he continued toward the exit with Angelica.

"Okay, okay, two more fangs then! Just two!" the crafter called, his desperation rising. "All right, fine—just one more! One more, and it's a deal!" The tension in his voice was palpable, the sound of his feet shuffling anxiously behind the counter.

But the only response was the soft click of the door closing as Silas and Angelica walked out, leaving the crafter standing there, red-faced and fuming.

"Goddamn those little bastards!" he cursed through clenched teeth, his knuckles white as his fists tightened with fury.

---

Outside, the cool air of the afternoon greeted Silas and Angelica as they made their way back toward the academy's main building.

As they walked, Angelica broke the silence, her voice soft but curious. "Where did you get those fangs, though?" she asked, her eyes lingering on Silas, clearly intrigued.

"It was part of the payment I received from the Grade 5 raid," Silas lied smoothly, keeping his gaze forward, the flicker of deception well-hidden beneath his calm expression.

"Really?" Angelica said, her tone a mix of curiosity and gratitude. "And you were willing to spend them on me?"

"You needed the blade for the test," Silas responded evenly, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he maintained his steady pace.

"Yes, but I'm a Grade 4 mutant ability user," Angelica pressed, concern creeping into her voice. "I have control over lightning, and I can defend myself. You need that stuff more than I do. If you sell the fangs on the black market, you could easily get yourself a decent mutant weapon, something that could really help you with the upcoming test."

Chapter Enjoy:

Silas remained silent for a moment, letting her words hang in the air. He wasn't in need of any additional weaponry or armor. The system had already provided him with everything he needed—a scythe that grew stronger with each use, and armor that adapted and leveled up alongside him.

In truth, he had no interest in acquiring new equipment, not when the ones he had were bound to him, improving with every battle.

That's why he had been willing to help Angelica. But his motives weren't entirely selfless. Silas had his reasons—reasons Angelica didn't need to know. By assisting her, he was ensuring that she owed him. In the future, if he ever found himself in a dire situation, perhaps even needing her soul to replenish his dwindling points, she might just repay the debt.

As they continued along the narrow, dimly lit path, Silas's expression shifted slightly, his senses sharpening. Something was off.

Angelica noticed the change instantly. "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes locking onto him, alert.

"Someone's following us," Silas murmured, his voice calm, betraying no hint of alarm. He didn't turn around, but his eyes scanned the surroundings carefully.

Angelica stopped in her tracks, her body tense as she quickly spun around, her eyes darting across the street. "I don't see anyone," she whispered, her voice tinged with unease.

"They've been trailing us since we left the shop," Silas explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "I'm betting it's the crafter, using a stealth ability to cloak himself."

Several meters behind them, the crafter had indeed activated his stealth ability. His form flickered, invisible to the naked eye, as he moved soundlessly across the cobblestones. A twisted grin spread across his face as he tightened his grip on the large blade in his hand.

'First, I'll take her down. That Grade 4 Litant claw is mine,' he thought, his eyes gleaming with greed as he charged toward Angelica, the blade ready to slice through her neck.

The crafter moved quickly, his blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, and just as his weapon was about to strike, it froze in place.

Silas had caught the crafter's arm.

The man's eyes widened in shock, his body trembling as he looked down to see Silas gripping his arm tightly. His other hand remained casually in his pocket, as though this were nothing more than an inconvenience.

'How did he stop me? Even with my stealth ability?' the crafter thought, his heart pounding in his chest. His stealth shattered the moment Silas touched him, revealing his presence.

Silas's eyes narrowed. With a deliberate slowness, he removed his right hand from his pocket, curled it into a fist, and drove it directly into the man's face.

BAM!

The punch connected with a sickening thud, the sound of bone crunching reverberating through the street as the crafter's nose twisted gruesomely. The force of the blow sent him sliding backward, blood gushing from his now broken nose.

The man staggered to a halt, his face a mask of pain and rage. Blood dripped down his chin as he snarled, "How dare you, brat?!"

With blood pouring from his shattered nose, the crafter raised his blade once more, his fingers trembling as he activated his stealth ability again. In an instant, he disappeared from view, leaving only the faint echo of his footsteps in the air.

But Silas stood his ground, unmoved.

The tension crackled like electricity between them, and without warning, the crafter charged forward again, now invisible.

'""

A/N: Character image is now available. Go check it out and vote for the MC, Silas Griswold!