MEETING AGAIN

The ashen moonlight bathed Moon Valley in an eerie glow, casting long, jagged shadows across the landscape. The once-sacred land was now a forgotten grave, steeped in the blood of a priest whose soul had long since departed.

Rex walked alone, his boots crunching against the dried soil, the weight of his latest actions settling in. His dagger was already cleaned—no traces, no evidence.

Yet, despite the completion of his task, his mind remained restless.

The system had given no acknowledgment. No confirmation of the kill. No reward. It was unnatural.

Rex exhaled sharply. Did the task even matter? The priest was dead. That should have been enough.

But something in the air felt different tonight.

A shift in the wind. A whisper in the darkness.

Then—

A voice.

The whisper slithered through the air like a serpent, cold and taunting.

"Did you think death would silence me, assassin?"

Rex's grip tightened around his dagger as his gaze locked onto the figure emerging from the shadows. The dried soil beneath his feet cracked as an unnatural wind stirred the valley, carrying the stench of decay and something older.

The Devil Merchant stood before him.

The same wretched creature who had handed him the poison mere hours ago, promising a swift and silent kill in exchange for an unnamed debt. His twisted robes fluttered despite the stillness of the valley, and his face—what should have been a lifeless husk—was instead alight with eerie amusement. His hollow, abyssal eyes glowed with an unsettling crimson.

Rex inhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain still. There was no system message, no confirmation of the kill—yet here the Devil Merchant stood, grinning as if the entire world was but a stage for his entertainment.

"You've done well, Rex," the Devil Merchant rasped, his voice layered with something more than just speech—an echo, as if multiple voices spoke from the same throat. "But did you truly believe I would let you be the only one to reap rewards?"

Rex remained silent. He had no patience for games. He had delivered the poison as instructed, executed the job flawlessly. The priest was dead. That should have been the end of it.

"And yet, here you stand, waiting for a system prompt that will never come."

Rex's jaw tightened. The Devil Merchant chuckled, the sound like dry leaves crumbling underfoot.

"You see, my dear assassin, this was no ordinary contract. You took a life that was already promised to another. The moment your blade severed his fate, the rules changed."

Rex's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

The Devil Merchant grinned, revealing jagged, blackened teeth. "The priest was marked by forces beyond your understanding. Killing him without their blessing… well, let's just say, you've drawn the attention of those who do not take kindly to interference."

Rex barely suppressed a curse. No wonder the system hadn't registered the kill. If this was tied to some hidden faction or eldritch force, he might have unknowingly stepped into something far worse than a mere assassination contract.

"But worry not," the Devil Merchant purred, extending a skeletal hand. In his palm, three shimmering vials of liquid—one silver, one crimson, one an unnatural void-like black—materialized. "I always pay my debts. Consider these… a token of appreciation."

Rex studied the vials warily. The Devil Merchant never made gifts without strings attached.

The Devil Merchant's abyssal eyes gleamed with eerie amusement as he studied Rex. The three vials—silver, crimson, and void-like black—remained suspended in his skeletal palm, each shimmering with an unnatural glow.

"You've done well, assassin," he rasped, his voice layered with something more than just speech—an echo that belonged to neither the living nor the dead. "And for that, I offer you a choice."

The wind in Moon Valley stilled. The valley itself seemed to lean in, as if listening.

"Knowledge…" The Devil Merchant lifted the silver vial slightly, its contents swirling with an ethereal glow. "The forces you seek to challenge are not bound by the rules you know. This will grant you insight, the truths hidden beneath layers of illusion."

He let the words hang for a moment before shifting the void-black vial forward. The liquid inside swirled, its shape never remaining constant.

"Or… the Mask of the Trickster. A relic of deception, a tool to rewrite perception itself. With this, you may become anyone—or no one at all. The system, the world, the very game itself… they will struggle to define you."

His grin widened, showing jagged blackened teeth. "But choose wisely, dear assassin. One grants knowledge, the other anonymity. Both hold power, but only one shall be yours."

Rex remained silent, his mind working quickly. The Devil Merchant was many things, but generous was not one of them. There were always layers to his words, hidden meanings lurking beneath his cryptic offers.

Knowledge would give him answers—but what use were answers if he was already marked for death? If unseen forces hunted him, then understanding his enemy wouldn't save him.

But the mask… the ability to erase his identity at will…

That was a weapon.

Without hesitation, Rex reached out and grasped the void-black vial from the Devil Merchant's palm. The weightless liquid twisted violently within its container, as if it recognized its new owner.

The Devil Merchant let out a slow, approving chuckle.

"Oh? You choose deception over truth?" His voice slithered through the air, curling around Rex like smoke. "How fitting for an assassin."

Rex's expression remained unreadable. "Knowledge is only useful if I live long enough to use it. This will keep me one step ahead."

The Devil Merchant tilted his head, considering. Then, with a simple flick of his wrist, the shadows coiled inward.

Dark tendrils twisted together, taking shape in the empty air before Rex. A mask—black as midnight, its surface alive with shifting runes—hovered just above his grasp. The moment he blinked, it was no longer floating. It was in his hands.

[You have obtained the Mask of the Trickster.]

A system notification flickered before his eyes, the text momentarily distorted before stabilizing.

[A rare artifact bound by forgotten laws. The wearer may shift their in-game identity at will. Hidden properties unknown.]

Rex turned the mask over in his hands. It was weightless yet tangible, as if existing between two states. Its surface was unnervingly smooth, yet the shifting runes gave the illusion of movement—whispers of something far older than the game itself.

The Devil Merchant watched in silence, then his grin sharpened.

"For every trick, there is a stage," he murmured, voice low and almost… expectant. "And for every mask, a performer."

The valley's silence deepened. The scent of decay thickened, but now, it carried something else—a scent of change.

Rex clenched the mask tighter. He had claimed something powerful tonight.

And power… was everything.

The night whispered.

The moment the Devil Merchant spoke, the air itself seemed to tighten, like unseen hands closing around the forest. A sudden gust of wind howled through Moon Valley, and the once-still trees shuddered violently as if something ancient had awakened. Their twisted branches groaned under an unseen weight, shadows stretching unnaturally across the cracked soil.

Rex's senses flared. His grip tightened around the Mask of the Trickster, yet instinct told him the true danger wasn't the mask. It was something else. Something older.

Then, the Devil Merchant let out a slow, knowing chuckle.

"Ah… I understand now."

His abyssal eyes gleamed with unnatural amusement. Rex's gaze locked onto him, wary.

"How curious… Yes, now I see it." The Devil Merchant tapped a long, skeletal finger against his temple, the twisted smile on his face widening. "You are not alone in this game, assassin. Someone walks beside you, unseen, guiding your hand."

The wind howled louder.

A single blackened scroll materialized between them, hovering in midair. It pulsed. A slow, rhythmic beat, like the sound of a distant, dying heart. Its surface writhed with crimson symbols, twisting and reshaping as if rejecting definition. Dark tendrils curled around it, flickering in and out of existence, whispering in an ancient tongue.

The sight of it sent a cold shiver through Rex's spine.

"A gift, assassin," the Devil Merchant murmured, voice dripping with amusement. "A token from your unseen benefactor."

Rex's body tensed. A benefactor?

He hadn't accepted help from anyone. He had carved his path alone, spilling blood for every step forward. And yet, here was this wretched merchant, speaking as if someone had been pulling the strings from the shadows.

The scroll pulsed again.

Rex hesitated. His instincts screamed danger, but at the same time, something deep within him ached to claim it.

Power.

It called to him, just as the mask had. A gift of unknown origin. A curse in disguise.

Rex's fingers brushed the scroll.

The moment he made contact, a shockwave of pure, unfiltered energy ripped through his body. His vision blurred—his muscles seized—a burning flood of power coursed through every fiber of his being.

The world snapped.

Everything around him became distant. The Devil Merchant. The shaking trees. The stench of decay.

All faded into a void of searing white light.

Then—

[Level Up!]

A system notification flashed. The text flickered erratically, symbols distorting, glitching— as if the system itself struggled to comprehend what had just occurred.

[You have reached Level 4.]

Rex inhaled sharply. That wasn't possible.

Players were barely reaching Level 2. The strongest competitors hadn't even broken through to Level 3. The game itself was designed to slow progression, yet here he was, standing leagues ahead in an instant.

The energy settled, but something within him felt different—like a door had been forced open inside his soul, one that was never meant to be unlocked so soon.

The Devil Merchant grinned.

"Ahhh… so, you've accepted it. And now… you begin to understand."

Rex clenched his fists. His veins still pulsed with the raw power the scroll had forced upon him. The feeling wasn't entirely… natural.

He lifted his gaze. "Who?"

The Devil Merchant tilted his head, his abyssal eyes gleaming with something between amusement and knowing malice.

"Oh, assassin… if I were to tell you their name, would it truly bring you peace?"

The valley seemed to lean in, as if the very earth itself awaited the answer.

"No, I think not."

A chuckle, low and guttural. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the Devil Merchant dissolved into the shadows, his final words lingering in the wind—

"Power is never free. Remember that when the debt comes due."

The forest fell silent.

The air remained charged, the shadows still felt alive, but Rex knew one thing for certain.

Someone was watching. Someone had interfered in his fate.

And now… they owned a piece of him.

Author note :hello guys i hope you like the story i am dark eye it is my pen name if you like this wanna by me a coffe can contact me through email darke2326@gmail.com and my line id darkeye2326 you can get advance chapters if you contact me thank you.can accept any ideas from you guys.

Pateron is launched id will available on 26/2/2025 i hope you guys support me