Magic Suction (2)

The sensation came like a cold flood surging through Dawei's veins. He stiffened, fingers clenching into the padded leather restraints of the test bed. His vision blurred—momentarily replaced by pulses of black and crimson. Something inside him, something primal and alien, stirred from slumber.

"System prompt: The player's attribute value increases, greatly improves!"

A sequence of stats flickered across the interface like a divine revelation:

Strength +18

Agility +12

Endurance +24

Vitality +35

Attack Speed +2

Movement Speed +2

Mana +40

"System prompt: Hidden racial bloodline trait unlocked – [Hybrid Blood: Werewolf/Vampire]."

Dawei's breath caught.

"Hybrid…?" he muttered, heart pounding in disbelief. He stared at the stats, then at his clawed, fur-coated hands, and finally down to the needle that had delivered the earl's power into his bloodstream.

"This is no longer just an experiment," he whispered. "This is evolution."

But as the thrill surged, so did the system's chilling final prompt:

"System prompt: The player is under the influence of [Dark Blood Binding]. All actions taken within 100 meters of Count Sindro may be forcibly overridden."

A black icon flashed at the top of his HUD: a burning red eye surrounded by silver thorns—the mark of the Count.

"Under the influence…" Dawei's mind raced. "Not controlled. Not yet."

He understood the game's subtle language. "Under influence" meant susceptibility, not inevitability. There was wiggle room—margin for player agency. But he also knew what would happen if he pushed his luck.

Zhugutra, standing over him with wide, gleaming eyes, was clearly euphoric.

"You are the one. You were made for this!" the scientist rasped, tapping his quill into a worn leather-bound book. "Not even Montico could survive a double injection of the Earl's genetic sequence. But you… you thrived!"

"System prompt: Jugutra's favorability toward you has changed – 'Research Subject: Perfect Compatibility.'"

"Doesn't that just make me your lab rat?" Dawei muttered, testing the movement of his legs. They were free now, perhaps unintentionally. Perhaps intentionally. Jugutra didn't seem to think he needed restraints anymore.

"You will herald a new era, my boy," Jugutra declared, raising both arms theatrically. "The first true hybrid of beast and blood! The apex of my achievements! You'll command both the savagery of the moon and the cold dominion of the night!"

Dawei didn't answer. He lay still, calculating. His strength had increased dramatically. With one burst, one perfect, well-timed explosion of movement, he might take Jugutra's smug face and drive it into the floor.

But this was a demigod boss, not a street thug. And he had seen how quickly Jugutra could respond when provoked. One misstep and he would end up a puddle of failed experiment.

No. Patience was still the better strategy.

He gritted his teeth as another wave of mutation rocked his body. His pupils elongated. His muscles thickened beneath the skin. But his mind… his mind remained sharp. That was key.

"System prompt: You are experiencing the first phase of [Dark Hybrid Awakening]. Mental integrity holding."

Mental integrity—of course. The system was monitoring not just his stats, but his ability to retain self-awareness. Likely, if he failed to maintain control, he would become a full NPC. A monster. A cautionary tale.

Dawei couldn't let that happen.

For now, he let Jugutra do his talking. The scientist resumed his frenzied notation, pacing back and forth and muttering in ancient alchemical tongues.

Dawei's eyes darted to the laboratory's far wall—the mechanical vault. Sealed tight with silver bolts, glowing with faint blue runes. That vault, he knew instinctively, held more than potions. Perhaps Jugutra's personal arsenal. Perhaps a weapon. Or a blueprint. Or even a failsafe.

And in a game as immersive and brutal as Mercenary World, there was always a failsafe.

Another idea flickered in his brain. The system had upgraded him, yes, but what if it had done more than that?

He mentally accessed his status panel. For a moment, the screen was scrambled—flickering black and red—but then it stabilized. A new category had appeared.

Race: Hybrid (Lycan-Vampiric)Passive Traits:

[Blood Instinct] – 5% lifesteal on melee damage

[Predator's Leap] – Bonus distance and speed when initiating combat

[Nocturnal Awareness] – Increased perception in low-light zones

[Dark Blood Resilience] – Partial resistance to necrotic and curse-based damage

Dawei blinked. This wasn't just a stat upgrade. He was being reclassified.

"System prompt: Your transformation is incomplete. Full Awakening will occur during the next moonlit cycle."

He had time. Time to plan. Time to escape.

Zhugutra suddenly slammed the table. "No, no! I can't let the Count see this—not yet! You'll become his. I need time, data, refinement!"

Perfect. The madman didn't want to hand him over. That meant Dawei had room to maneuver before Sindro inevitably came calling.

For the next several in-game hours, Dawei was moved from the main lab into a side chamber—still heavily locked, but no longer under constant guard.

"System prompt: You have entered [Stasis Quarantine – Chamber #7]. Stealth monitoring systems active."

Finally alone, Dawei got to work.

He catalogued every stat, every ability, every buff.

He scouted the layout of the lab through his sharp werewolf vision.

He tested his strength against the reinforced wall and logged the damage output—barely a crack.

He even practiced [Predator's Leap] against the ceiling, rebounding off the wall and measuring momentum in the HUD.

His goal wasn't brute escape. Not yet.

His goal was information. And he needed more.

So he did something reckless.

He opened his communicator and sent a message.

It was an ancient mechanic, buried in the tutorial settings. A simple beacon—used to test server latency, supposedly.

But advanced players knew that it could ping nearby players under certain conditions. Especially those flagged as "observers."

"Help. Zhugutra. Captive. Hybrid Class. Room #7."

It was a gamble. And if any hostile player received it, he'd be dead faster than Jugutra could chant "Eureka."

But if even one anti-Count faction player caught the signal—perhaps even a Sage-aligned mercenary—then he had a chance.

His message hung in the digital air.

Now, he waited.

Time passed slowly. Minutes. Then an hour.

Then the air shimmered.

"System prompt: Message received. Response pending."

Dawei tensed.

Five minutes later:

"System prompt: Hermit camp informant has received your message. Extraction probability: 27%."

That was all he needed. Proof that someone—somewhere—was watching.

The endgame was beginning.