Chapter 4: The First Skill

The weight of his father's words sat heavily on Niko's shoulders.

"Some will try to stop it."

A warning, spoken not with anger, but with certainty. Whatever he had awakened, it had already begun to alter the world around him—and people could feel it.

But Niko was done hesitating.

His fingers itched with the need to understand. The book had chosen him. The mark burned against his chest, proof that something had already changed within him. He could feel it in the air, in the way his mind processed information faster, in the subtle awareness of things just beyond his sight.

He had gained something.

He needed to figure out what.

That evening, after his father had retired for the night, Niko sat cross-legged in his room, the book open before him. It no longer forced itself upon him, no longer burned with an unnatural presence. It simply waited, as if knowing that he would return on his own.

He ran his fingers over the pages, and this time, the text appeared deliberately, forming words with slow, careful intent.

"To command the unseen, one must first perceive it."

The same phrase from before. But now, Niko understood what it meant.

He took a deep breath and focused.

It was not like casting a spell—there was no incantation, no grand display of power. It was simply awareness, an extension of his mind reaching outward.

And then, for the first time, he felt it.

The world around him had layers.

The dim candlelight flickered, but behind it, there was a faint presence, something unseen but undeniably there. The air was thick with traces of energy, like lingering footprints on soft earth.

And then he saw them.

Threads.

Thin, barely perceptible strands stretched across the room—webs of existence, flowing from objects, people, the walls themselves. Some glowed faintly, pulsing with the soft remnants of life. Others were darker, unmoving. Dead.

His breath hitched.

This was more than simple magic. It was a fundamental truth of the world.

A notification—not of a system, not of a game, but of knowledge—formed in his mind. A realization, structured and clear.

Skill Gained: Veil Sight

[Allows the user to perceive traces of energy, lingering presences, and remnants of the dead. Improves clarity of hidden auras and magical disturbances.]

Niko exhaled slowly. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from excitement.

This was real.

He closed his eyes, letting the sensation sink into him, allowing his body to adjust. It felt like learning to see in the dark—unnatural at first, but instinctive the longer he focused.

Then, as his vision sharpened, he noticed something new.

The book.

It was connected to him. To his very being.

One of the dark threads—the unmoving, deathly ones—linked the tome to the mark on his chest. It wasn't just a book.

It was part of him now.

The next morning, Niko woke with a headache.

His body felt heavier, as if he had trained for hours without rest. His mind was sharp, yet his limbs moved sluggishly.

His father was gone, likely working in the village, leaving the house quiet and still. The book remained beside him, closed, its presence no longer as suffocating as before.

But now, he could see the threads even without concentrating.

Faint lines of energy trailed from the walls, from objects, from the very air. The world had depth that he had never noticed before.

And most importantly—he could control it.

He focused on the Veil Sight, and the threads became clearer. The ones around his own body pulsed slightly, responding to him. It wasn't just a passive ability—it was something he could manipulate.

With a slow breath, he reached out toward a single strand of energy in the room. It resisted at first, as if rejecting his touch. But then, as he pushed with his will, it shifted, bending slightly toward him.

A rush of understanding hit him.

He wasn't just seeing these things.

He could interact with them.

His experiments were cut short by a sudden knock at the door.

Sharp. Purposeful.

Niko's instincts flared, and without thinking, he extended his Veil Sight. The world dimmed slightly, the threads becoming sharper. He focused on the space beyond the door.

Two figures.

One was his father. The other… was not from the village.

Niko moved quickly, placing the book beneath his mattress before making his way to the entrance.

As he opened the door, his father's expression was grim.

Beside him stood a man clad in dark leather armor, a hunter's insignia fastened to his shoulder. His eyes, sharp and knowing, locked onto Niko immediately.

"You're Niko,"

The man said, his voice flat. It wasn't a question.

Niko forced himself to remain still.

"I am."

The man's gaze flickered, as if studying something unseen.

"You did something last night,"

He said after a pause.

Niko's heart skipped a beat.

His father tensed beside him, his hand subtly resting on the hilt of the dagger at his belt.

Niko forced himself to stay calm.

"What do you mean?"

The man narrowed his eyes.

"You felt it, didn't you? The shift in the air. The unnatural stillness. Something happened, and you were at the center of it."

Niko said nothing.

The man exhaled, clearly unsatisfied with the lack of response.

His father finally spoke.

"Niko was home all night. Whatever you think he did, you're mistaken."

The hunter's jaw tightened. He clearly didn't believe it—but he wasn't here to make accusations. Not yet.

"Be careful, boy,"

He said after a moment.

"The world notices when things change. And not everyone likes it."

With that, he turned and left.

Niko barely closed the door before his father grabbed his arm, his grip iron-strong.

"They already suspect."

The words were quiet, but the meaning was clear.

Whatever he had awakened, it was no longer just his burden to bear.

That night, as he sat in his room once more, Niko did not hesitate.

The book was open before him, its words already forming.

The world was changing.

And he would not be left behind.