The Ultimate Skill System: Absorb, Upgrade, Create, Transfer-Chapter 32 - : Apathetic Hero

The Lionkin village, once a vibrant hub of life and activity, had fallen into an unnatural silence. The usual sounds of laughter, the rustling of leaves, and the distant calls of wildlife had been replaced by a heavy, oppressive quiet.

At the heart of this change stood Greon, a Lionkin warrior who had undergone a transformation so profound it seemed almost divine.

Moments ago, he had been an Uncommon Lionkin, strong but not extraordinary. Now, he was something else entirely—a Dreadmane.

His golden-brown fur, once a simple coat, now shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, catching the light like molten gold.

His long, wild hair flowed around his face like a lion's mane, framing eyes that burned with a fierce, almost predatory intensity.

His muscles, already formidable, now rippled with a power that seemed to hum beneath the surface, ready to be unleashed. He stood tall, his presence alone enough to make the Hyenakin hesitate.

The catalyst for this transformation was Keiran, a young human who had appeared in the village like a shadow, unassuming yet impossible to ignore.

With a single act, he had gifted Greon a skill so potent it had elevated him to a level beyond anything the Hyenakin could comprehend.

The skill had not only strengthened Greon but had also imbued him with an aura of dread, a palpable force that made even the bravest of enemies falter.

[Uncommon: Dreadmane — Level 30.]

Keiran stood a few paces behind Greon, his expression calm, almost detached.

His voice, when he spoke, was steady and measured, carrying a quiet authority. "Now, you can protect your people."

Greon turned to Keiran, his amber eyes softening for a moment. Despite the ferocity of his new form, there was still a warmth in his gaze.

"Thank you," he said, his voice deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder.

The Hyenakin, however, were not so composed.

The boss Hyenakin's eyes burned with hatred, and his lips curled back to reveal sharp, yellowed teeth. "Kill that brat!" he roared, his voice cracking like a whip. "If he dies, it will remove whatever buff he put on that Lionkin!"

But before the Hyenakin could act, Greon moved. His body was a blur, his fists a whirlwind of destruction.

Each punch he threw was so powerful it created shockwaves, sending violent gusts of wind tearing through the battlefield.

The air itself seemed to scream as it was forced aside, and the ground trembled beneath his feet. The Hyenakin who dared to approach were obliterated in an instant, their bodies flung aside like ragdolls, their weapons shattered into useless fragments.

The other Lionkin, inspired by Greon's display of strength, felt a surge of energy course through their veins.

The buffs from Greon's skill had revitalized them, filling them with a newfound vigor.

They rose to their feet, their eyes blazing with determination, and joined the fight.

The battlefield erupted into chaos as the Lionkin clashed with the Hyenakin, their roars of defiance echoing through the village like a war cry.

Amidst the chaos, the Hyenakin boss saw an opportunity.

He charged toward Keiran, his sword raised high, the blade glinting wickedly. "You're just a level 10 human!" he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "I can kill you in an instant!"

Keiran didn't flinch. He stood his ground, his expression unreadable, his eyes like two pools of still water.

The Hyenakin boss swung his sword with all his might, the blade slicing through the air with a deadly whistle.

But when it struck Keiran, it didn't cut. It didn't even scratch him. The sword bounced off as if it had hit water, leaving Keiran completely unharmed.

The Hyenakin boss stared in disbelief, his confidence crumbling like a sandcastle before a wave.

His yellow eyes widened, and his grip on his sword faltered. "What kind of monster are you?" he whispered, his voice trembling with fear.

Keiran didn't answer. Instead, he raised his hand, palm facing outward. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, charged with an unseen energy.

The ground beneath his feet cracked, and the temperature dropped, as if the very world were recoiling from the power he was about to unleash. The Hyenakin boss felt a surge of panic and turned to flee, but it was too late.

"Infernal Arcana," Keiran said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

A burst of infernal fire erupted from his palm, engulfing everything in its path.

The flames were unlike anything the Hyenakin had ever seen—dark, swirling, and impossibly hot.

They devoured everything in their path, reducing trees and rocks to molten slag in an instant.

The ground was scorched black, and the air filled with the acrid smell of burning. Yet, despite the devastation, the Lionkin villagers remained unharmed. Keiran's control over the flames was precise, ensuring that not a single one of his allies was hurt.

When the flames subsided, the battlefield was littered with charred corpses.

The Hyenakin boss, still alive but barely, lay on the ground, his body blackened and smoking.

His once-menacing form was now a broken, smoldering shell. He looked up at Keiran, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. "Who... who are you?" he croaked, his voice barely audible.

Keiran stepped forward, his hand transforming into a mantis-like scythe, its edge glinting.

The transformation was seamless, as if his body were made of liquid metal. "I am Keiran Graywood," he said, his voice cold and steady. "The hero of Eteria. And my job is to get rid of people like you on the surface of this world."

The Hyenakin boss let out a weak laugh, though it was more of a cough. "Heroes are just myths," he spat, his voice filled with bitterness.

Keiran's expression didn't change. "Then, I am a myth."

With a swift motion, he brought the scythe down, severing the Hyenakin boss's head from his body. It rolled across the ground, coming to a stop at the feet of the surviving Lionkin.

The battle was over.

The Lionkin villagers erupted into cheers, their voices filled with relief and joy. They hugged each other, tears streaming down their faces as they celebrated their victory.

Children clung to their parents, and elders raised their hands in gratitude, their voices rising in a chorus of thanks.

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But Keiran didn't join in. He stood apart, watching them with the same emotionless gaze he had worn throughout the battle.

As the villagers celebrated, Keiran's mind began to wander. He had just taken lives—humanoid lives—for the first time.

Yet, he felt nothing.

No guilt, no remorse, not even a flicker of unease. People often said that killing would break your mind, that it would haunt you forever.

But for Keiran, it was as if he had simply swatted a fly.

He had always been like this, he realized.

Detached, apathetic, indifferent to the world around him.

But now, standing amidst the aftermath of battle, he couldn't help but wonder why.

Why didn't he feel anything? Why was he so different from everyone else?

Keiran's thoughts were interrupted by Greon, who approached him with a look of gratitude.

The Greon's golden-brown fur glistened in the light, and his amber eyes shone with sincerity. "You saved us," Greon said, his voice filled with emotion. "We owe you our lives."

Keiran nodded, but his expression remained blank. "You don't owe me anything," he replied. "I did what I had to do."

Greon studied him for a moment, as if trying to understand the enigma that was Keiran Graywood. But he said nothing more, simply bowing his head in respect before turning to join his people.

As the villagers continued to celebrate, Keiran walked away, his mind still racing. He had come to this village to help, to fulfill his role as a hero.

But now, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing—something inside him. He had saved lives, but at what cost? And more importantly, why did it feel like nothing at all?

The sun began to set, casting long shadows across the battlefield. Keiran stood at the edge of the village, staring out at the horizon.

The world was vast, filled with countless battles yet to be fought, countless lives yet to be saved—or lost. And as he stood there, alone and unfeeling, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find the answers he was searching for.

Or if, perhaps, he was destined to remain a mystery, even to himself.