NyxAshford

[Death Transcript: Talent Active] Skill copied: Fog Form (G-rank) Timer: 23:59:46 Permanent Inscription Condition: Kill a target ranked above G-rank Warning: Proceed to higher floors. Liam Null killed a monster with a rock and stole a dead man's skill. The countdown has started. Every system awakening gives you a weapon. Liam gets a faded quill. Scribe, F-rank Civil Class. The worst inscription the Registration Hall had seen in a decade. No combat rating. No dungeon access. No future. But the quill does one thing no combat class can: it transcribes. Kill a monster, copy its skill. The catch? The ink fades in twenty-four hours. To make it permanent, he has to use that stolen power to destroy something stronger before the timer hits zero. Every fight is a countdown. Every stolen skill is borrowed time. And the deeper Liam pushes into the dungeon fantasy the Libraries conceal, the closer he gets to a truth the combat classes don't want exposed: scribes were never meant to serve. They were meant to rewrite the rules. His missing sister. A collapsing world. A progression fantasy built on impossible deadlines and permanent consequences. The clock is already ticking. What would you kill to keep?

They called me a battery. Plug in, drain dry, discard. For three years, I healed every wound the Darkflame Guild inflicted on others—while they inflicted new ones on me. Then they killed my only friend to buy my silence. They should have killed me instead. Now I have a new ability: Decay. Every touch I give looks like healing. But inside, I'm counting down the hours until their powers crumble from within—naturally, untraceable, perfectly fatal. I've joined a new guild. I smile at my enemies every morning. I heal them when they ask. And one by one, they're going to rot.