The Transformation

It all happened in a single minute. Remirg Kryptos couldn't fathom what he had done. His mind had gone completely numb, barring him from the ability to think reasonably. The only thing that was driving his mind was his skirmish against the two terrorizers.

If they had resorted to violence, he had no choice but to do the same as well. And if he had to, then he would play all the cards he had up his sleeve. It was better to be scrutinized by the society rather than being slumped up in a corner in his tiny shack, deemed useless by everyone.

And this was the moment, he would show what his worth really his. He didn't care a damn what people thought about him. Maybe he would be labeled a monster. Maybe he would be shunned by everyone. Maybe he would become the enemy of everyone. 

But he would not cower anymore. He would move forward with his head held high. Even if he would be chased to the end of the world, he will fight. He will fight to the end.

And this, was just the start to all of it.

Commanding the Simulator, he summoned his only weapon from the inventory.

The next moment was followed by loud gasps and screams from the surrounding crowd. Their actions were completely justified in lieu to the insane development which had occurred on the unsuspecting plaza.

A six-foot long demonic scythe had risen out of the ground, emanating such a menacing aura that each and every person residing in a fifty-meter radius of it could feel its pressure.

Even though still not being leveled enough, according to Remirg's stats, the standalone power of the scythe was enough to scare the living shit out of anyone. For once, it was a weapon which survived the great battle of Finz, about which most of the residents knew nothing. 

Meanwhile, Remirg's attackers had already gone numb. It took them for a whole minute to realize with what they were dealing with. Something which they had only about in fantasies. 

Both of them slumped down to the ground as Remirg's expressionless figure grabbed the scythe which had completely revealed itself.

Activating Prana Presence and sending in a stream of prana particles inside the scythe, which now acted purely on his command, Remirg made it glow a menacing purple.

Hoisting it up easily in the air and resting it on his shoulder plates, Remirg started to take rhythmic steps towards his enemy, each of the steps he placed resonating a deep sound which imparted a deathly silence around him, muting each and every person's screams.

Letting his prana go astray around himself, he also covered his body with the same menacing purple glow. 

"Now this is giving the desired effect. Quite a handy transformation technique. I almost thought that color of prana didn't depict any real color, but thinking about it later, it was not a feasible thought to think that prana presence worked solely on the prana density.

Through all my fights, I have seen various foes with different color prana, but never managed to grasp how the color was related to its possessor's prowess.

A little brainstorming was enough to reveal that the "color" of prana was optional and can easily be generated by a wielder themselves.

As I didn't possess a magical core before, I couldn't do that in the shadow dungeon, while the shadow beings could.

But now, I also can...."

Remirg imparted the final touch as he concentrated ever so less more amount of prana into his eyes, making them glow a bright purple as well.

All in all, his appearance looked like a real monster.

Mark, who was watching with a lot of excitement, could hardly wait for Remirg to commence in his actions.

"Hiding powers go to shit. I hate that part when MC's just don't show their power and hide their identities to mingle among others.

Remirg, who was just ostracized by everybody for such a trivial thing as appearance cannot be slightly wavered by what society thinks about him."

"But such hasty things follow with serious aftermaths. And my man would regret what he did now....."

Remirg stopped in his tracks the moment he was standing right beside the fallen figures of the two who were ridiculing him.

Nobody could have anticipated what resided within the frail body of a malnourished sixteen-year-old boy who didn't even have proper clothes to wear.

Bending over gently, bringing the two violently shaking figures into his view, he started speaking. It was a voice so hoarse which sent a chill down both of their spines.

"So.... Why was that package yours? I must say... You really have a lot of guts.... challenging me....."

Meanwhile, Remirg's inside were a mixture of anxiousness and amusement. He couldn't comprehend the fact that the people around him couldn't fathom how weak his magic was. What he was doing was just a cheap demonstration. But a certain other emotion was governing his actions. The feeling of righteous anger.

Though the effect it was producing was what worried him the most. He was as good as ****** now. News would reach the ears of the Barons and nobles would come hunting for him.

He would be up on the wanted posters before he could even pack up to run for his life.

But what was done was now done.

Retracing his movements, he brought the scythe flashing in, directly pointing it at the face of Narvant, who had already lost his composure and was on the verge of tears.

"So, what lesson was you going to teach me, eh? End of parlay. You think stealing food from others is a joke? Do you even look at the faces of those from whom you snatch away their lunch? Have you ever noticed their goddamn sadness?!"

Remirg could no longer hold back his fury. As his heartbeat skyrocketed, so did his prana output, clearly visible as the light glowing around him shone the brightest purple, providing him with a godly look.

"Most of the folk you steal, no you snatch from are mere commoners. Did you ever see their god forsaken resented faces?! No! So, this is where I'll show you how it feels to be the scapegoat."

Bringing down his scythe with an amateur maneuver, though unnoticed by the brats' novice eyes, he poured in the mana at the right time retracting the blades in, missing the face of the older one by inches, if not centimeters.

The scythe had transformed into a baton, a much non-lethal weapon.

Even though the Simulator had required the player to defeat his enemies, Remirg was as good as a victor. His manipulation already had had the desired effect on his adversaries. All he had to do was to bring down the one final blow.

And that was what he did.

Pirouetting his body in a graceful spin, he hoisted himself up, simultaneously bringing down the baton in a decisive blow on Narvant's solar plexus, knocking him three feet in air, making sure to let a few prana particles fly with him, to feint magic, even though what he actually did was a mere offensive physical attack.

Retracing its movement back to its original position, Remirg let a spark of prana erupt from its end as he brought it down, hitting the other guy squarely on his right shoulder, initialing a not-a-very-serious-fracture. It had dislocated his shoulder quite a bit, paving the way of muffled howls of pain.

Quite satisfied at his work, Remirg lowered the baton, summoning back in all the prana he had released into the surroundings, reversing the effect of the chilly aura which surrounded him.

A few around him had fainted while most of them were rooted to their spots, just stunned at the unbelieving the supernatural apparition they had just witnessed.

Their eyes followed the gigantic baton, as it vanished through thin air, Remirg sending it back into the inventory.

He was rummaging the food back to picker away when the notification popped up in front of his face, quite invisible to the people around him, unlike the fake magic he had just produced.

[CONGRATULATIONS! THE PLAYER HAS SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED THE EMERGENCY QUEST!]

[THE PLAYER HAS LEVELED TO -4. REWARDS RECEIVED-

1. 10 PRANA COINS

2. RANDOM LOOT BOX

WOULD YOU WISH TO OPEN THE RANDOM LOOT BOX?]