The Ultimate Skill System: Absorb, Upgrade, Create, Transfer-Chapter 33 - : The Man Who Doesn’t Lie

Keiran stood amidst the aftermath of the battle, his eyes scanning the lifeless bodies of the Hyenakin army scattered across the village of the Lionkin.

The ground was stained with blood, and the air carried the metallic scent of death.

The battle had been brutal, leaving behind a scene of devastation. The once peaceful village now bore the scars of conflict, with broken homes and trampled fields.

Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a strange sense of calm—a quiet that followed the storm.

The Lionkin villagers, their fur matted with dirt and blood, watched Keiran with a mix of awe and fear.

They had seen him fight, witnessed a power that defied understanding.

But what he did next left them utterly speechless.

Keiran closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A faint golden glow emanated from his body, and the air around him seemed to shimmer.

He activated his Divine Inheritance.

One by one, the corpses around him began to release streams of light, flowing toward Keiran like rivers converging at a single point.

The villagers gasped as the entire village was bathed in a soft, golden hue. It was as if the very life force of the Hyenakin was being drawn into Keiran.

[You have received 20 Common Skills.]

The message echoed in Keiran's mind, but he paid it little attention. He had grown accustomed to the strange notifications that accompanied his powers.

Instead, he turned his attention to the villagers, who were staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths.

The scene had been nothing short of magical, and they were struggling to comprehend what they had just witnessed.

Keiran spoke first, his voice calm and steady. "The villagers are safe now. Greon is strong enough to defend the village on his own. My job here is done."

He turned to leave, but before he could take more than a few steps, a soft hand gripped his forearm.

It was Leina. She looked up at him, her expression a mix of gratitude and desperation.

"Please, Keiran," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Stay for dinner. It's the least we can do to thank you."

Greon stepped forward. His broad shoulders and commanding presence made him a natural leader, but even he seemed humbled in Keiran's presence.

"We can lend you some clothes too," he added, gesturing to Keiran's bare body. "You can't travel through the forest naked. I insist, as the village leader."

Keiran glanced down at himself. He had been so focused on the battle and its aftermath that he hadn't given much thought to his appearance.

He nodded in agreement. "Alright. I'll stay."

The villagers quickly got to work, clearing away the remnants of the battle.

Keiran helped by using his powers to burn the remaining traces of the Hyenakin, reducing them to nothingness. The villagers watched in silence, their respect for him growing with each passing moment.

Once the village was clean, Greon handed Keiran a set of clothing made from wolf pelts. The material was soft yet durable, perfect for traveling through the forest. Keiran thanked him and dressed quickly, feeling more comfortable now that he was no longer exposed.

The villagers gathered outside, forming makeshift wooden tables and benches. They brought out food—roasted meat, fresh vegetables, and bowls of hearty soup. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming.

Keiran sat among them, eating quietly as the villagers chatted around him. Greon, sitting across from him, couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Keiran," he began, "why were you traveling through the forest naked? It's not exactly safe out there."

Keiran took a sip of his soup before answering, his tone casual. "My tracksuit got melted when I fought Vulcarion."

The villagers froze, their spoons halfway to their mouths. Vulcarion was a name that struck fear into the hearts of even the bravest warriors. A calamity of immense power, Vulcarion was said to be unstoppable, a force of nature that brought destruction wherever it went.

Greon chuckled nervously, trying to lighten the mood. "You're joking, right? There's no way you fought Vulcarion and survived."

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

Keiran looked up, his expression unchanged. "I won."

The table fell silent. Greon's laughter died in his throat, and the other villagers exchanged uneasy glances.

"Come again?" Greon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I defeated Vulcarion," Keiran repeated, his tone matter-of-fact.

The villagers stared at him, searching for any sign that he was lying. But Keiran's eyes were steady, his gaze unwavering. There was no hint of deception in his words.

The villagers, still reeling from the revelation, began to ask more questions. Keiran answered each one honestly, without hesitation.

"So that explains why you have a glowing golden crown on your head," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

Keiran nodded but offered no further explanation.

Pio, the oldest member of the village and its former leader, leaned toward Keiran, his aged hands trembling. "Where are you planning to go next?" he asked, his voice frail but filled with curiosity.

Keiran set down his bowl and looked at the old Lionkin. "I'm planning to go to civilization," he said. "I want to join wars to become stronger by absorbing skills there. That's my plan A. But my plan B is to create an elite army of my own. Fighting with different armies in every battle isn't ideal. I need people I can rely on."

Greon's eyes lit up with understanding. "Do you mean like how you made me stronger earlier? By giving me a skill?"

Keiran nodded. "Yes."

The villagers fell into a thoughtful silence, each of them processing Keiran's words.

The idea of an elite army, led by someone as powerful as Keiran, was both thrilling and daunting. It was a glimmer of hope in a world that had been cruel to them for so long.

As the night wore on, Keiran excused himself and retired to the wooden house Greon had offered him.

The villagers, however, remained outside, huddled together in hushed conversation. Their voices were low, their expressions serious. They were coming up with an idea—an idea that could change their lives forever.

It wasn't born out of malice or greed. It was pure, driven by a desire to survive in a world that had shown them little kindness. And at the center of it all was Keiran, the man who had saved them, the man who held the key to their future.

As the moon rose high in the sky, the villagers made a decision. They would follow Keiran, not out of obligation, but out of hope. For the first time in a long time, they felt like they had a chance—a chance to fight, to survive, and to thrive.

And Keiran, asleep in the small wooden house, remained unaware of the plans being made in his name.