The Lust System: Hunt beyond worlds-Chapter 31: FORGOTTEN SHORE

System Interface – Aric Valen

Profile

Name: Aric Valen

Level : 6

Age: 20

Class: Woodcutter

Health: 300

Mana: 350

Stats

Strength: 150

Intelligence: 150

Speed: 150

Senses: 150

Agility: 150

I looked at my system profile, a faint smile forming on my face.

Balanced. Sharp. Ready.

But just beneath it, I saw a new option blinking for the very first time:

> [New Class]

It had finally unlocked—probably because I had reached Level 6.

Without hesitation, I tapped it.

Five options appeared in glowing white text:

> [Healer] [Knight] [Assassin] [Soul Reaper] [Mage]

I paused for a moment, thinking.

Then, my hand moved.

[Mage] — That was the path I chose.

A small surge of energy ran through me.

---

Profile Updated

Name: Aric Valen

Age: 20

Class: [Woodcutter] [Mage]

Mana: 600

---

Now that my Mana had doubled, I immediately opened the Skill Shop. We were leaving the village soon, and I needed to be prepared.

After browsing through hundreds of flashy skills, I selected three, each one carefully chosen for survival and offense:

1. [Water Ice Shield] – Automatically generates a defensive barrier made of ice and water.

2. [Clones] – Allows me to create up to 2 clones of myself. Great for distractions or ambush.

3. [Acceleration] – Increases my speed 10x for 1 minute. Cooldown: 10 hours. A last-resort escape or sudden strike. Unlike Sarah ability of illusion these were real Clones that could be used to attack and other things.

With these skills in hand, I felt... safer. Stronger.

Ready to step into the unknown.

---

Elsewhere – Christopher's Transformation

A swirling black light engulfed Christopher.

When it finally faded, he looked like a completely different person:

His hair had changed from black to chestnut brown, and had grown longer.

His sharp jawline now hid behind a round, slightly bloated face.

His once muscular build was replaced by a soft belly and an average frame.

Even his eyes had narrowed in size and shape.

He changed into dull, peasant-like clothes. When he stepped outside, no one would ever guess this was the First Prince of Velmora.

---

Christopher made his way through the city. First to the black market, then into a dark alley, and from there into a forest—a dead forest, completely burned out. There were no leaves, no birds, just ash and charred wood.

It looked like nature had lost a war here.

As he walked, he passed three noblemen beating a poor peasant man and his wife.

Christopher didn't even glance at them. His expression remained cold.

> "In this world... equality is a joke."

"The only thing that matters is power."

"If you have power, you can be king, rewrite laws, walk free from crimes."

"But if you don't? Then even being a good person is useless."

He walked deeper into the wasteland.

Focused. Unforgiving.

Christopher's Journey – The Forgotten Mansion

After nearly an hour of walking through the dead forest, where every tree was a skeleton and the ground crunched beneath his boots, Christopher finally saw it.

A mansion.

It stood tall and wide, like a shadow from the past. Its walls, once white and proud, were now dirty, chipped, and cracked. The gate was broken, hanging by a single rusted hinge. Weeds had grown wild around the entrance, curling up the stone pillars like nature trying to choke it.

There was no sound.

No wind. frёewebnoѵēl.com

No animals.

No life.

Just the creaking of old wood and the faint echo of his footsteps.

The mansion looked abandoned, forgotten by time—just like him.

And yet, to Christopher, it was familiar.

His expression tightened.

> "This place..."

Memories came flooding back—his past life, when he had been betrayed by his stepmother, the queen. After she had stabbed him, he was secretly moved here by one of his last loyal aides. His body had been too weak to move, but his mind had wandered through the mansion's halls during those final weeks.

It was here, just days before dying, that he had discovered there was more to this mansion.

Power. Secrets. Forgotten relics.

But by the time he realized it, it was too late.

> "But not this time."

He pushed the heavy doors open. They creaked like ghosts screaming.

---

Inside the Mansion

The air inside was stale and cold, as if it hadn't been breathed in years.

The walls inside were once painted royal blue and white, but now the colors had faded, peeling off in thin strips. The wooden floorboards were cracked, and some had holes in them. He stepped carefully, remembering which ones had collapsed last time.

Cobwebs hung from the corners.

Chandeliers that once sparkled with magic were now broken and hanging loose like corpses.

The light bulbs were shattered, glass pieces still scattered like forgotten stars.

Doors inside were all open—or worse, missing—like the mansion had stopped caring for its own privacy.

Despite all this decay, Christopher walked with confidence. He knew exactly where to go.

---

The Hidden Room

He entered the kitchen, where dusty pots and broken dishes still lay on the counters like ghosts of the past.

He moved toward the wooden cabinet on the left side of the room.

It looked normal. Too normal.

He reached behind it, placed his hand on a loose panel, and pushed.

> Click.

A hidden compartment popped open.

Inside was a trapdoor, covered in dust and old bloodstains that had faded to a dark brown. He pulled it open, and a staircase spiraled down into the darkness.

No lights. No handrails.

Just stone steps, cold and damp.

He descended slowly, each step echoing like thunder in the silence.

His fingers grazed the stone wall to guide himself. He could feel the air getting colder the deeper he went.

After several minutes, he reached a large metal door.

He placed his hand on it. The metal was icy to the touch.

He pushed—and it opened with a deep, grinding noise.

---

The Core Room

Inside the room, three glass containers stood in a triangle formation.

Each one stood taller than him, glowing faintly from within.

One had a blue crystal, swirling with energy like a storm trapped inside.

The second held a green crystal, pulsing softly like it was alive.

But the third... the third was black—deep and empty, as if it absorbed light itself.

Christopher stepped closer to it.

> "The Dead Control Crystal."

He stared at it, remembering what it was.

A crystal that once belonged to a forgotten Necromancer King. It held the ability to control dead matter—bones, corpses, even lost spirits—if the user was strong enough.

Last time, he had known of its power only in theory. He never got the chance to use it.

Now? He was ready.

With a confident hand, he opened the glass case and took the black crystal.

It felt cold, but not heavy. Like holding a piece of night.

He slipped it into his pocket.

> "This time... everything will be different."

Behind him, the blue and green crystals continued to glow in silence.

But he didn't need them.

He had chosen his path.

The path of control. Of death. Of revenge.

He turned and walked back up the stairs—one step at a time, calm and certain—while behind him, the crystal chamber dimmed, as if the mansion had finally handed over its last secret.