Magic from Nothingness

In the silence after midnight in the capital, just like in the ever-awake alleys of The Undercroft, every decision must be weighed carefully, for the echo of one choice can last forever.

Nihil's heart was still pounding fiercely, a sensation driven purely by adrenaline as he slipped away from The Whispering Flagon. He did not run blindly. Each turn, each shadow he entered, was a calculated choice. Heze's mind worked at high speed, processing the chain of events that had just occurred.

The meeting was both a failure and a success. A failure because his temporary identity was now known to a clear enemy, Tarek Mornhall. The hunt had become personal. Yet a success, because he had confirmation that his family was behind all of this, and most importantly, he had found a transactional ally in The Weaver. He had also proven that his power could be used with precision—destroying the bowstring, not the entire weapon. It was an important lesson.

He finally found a better hiding place. Not a bustling inn, but the skeleton of an old bell tower long abandoned on the edge of The Undercroft, a place avoided by people due to superstition. From the height, he could observe the streets below while remaining hidden.

In the silence accompanied by the night wind, he engaged in introspection. The name "Nihil" he had chosen impulsively now had its own reputation in the underworld. He began to feel like wearing a mask that slowly merged with his face. Who was he? Heze the analyst, or Nihil the anomaly? Perhaps the answer was both.

He knew he couldn't continue to openly offer the service of "curse removal." It was the same as painting a target on his own back. He needed to change his strategy. Stop being reactive. Stop being the prey. He had to start hunting for information about his hunters. Understand Umbra Venari, understand Tarek, and eventually, understand what Valerius and Alban truly wanted. To do that, he needed power beyond just Void Grasp.

He gazed at his pale palm under the dim moonlight. The system had emphasized his limitations: he couldn't use mana. His body rejected magic like oil rejects water. However, Heze's memories of physics from Vega Terra kept swirling in his mind. Everything is made of atoms. Magic moves energy. But what if you moved the atoms themselves?

He decided to try an experiment.

He picked up a rusty nail from the rotting wooden floor. He held it, closed his eyes, and focused all his concentration. He didn't try to erase it. Instead, he tried to channel his Void power on the smallest and most precise scale he could imagine. He visualized the iron atoms within the nail. Then, he tried to push them, making them vibrate faster.

[Warning: Atomic Manipulation requires extremely high precision and capacity. High risk of failure.]

The system notification flickered, but he ignored it. At first, nothing happened. He only felt his capacity being drained quickly without any result. He was about to give up, but then he tried again, more focused, deeper.

Then, he felt it. A faint warmth began to spread through the nail in his grasp. He opened his eyes. The nail still looked the same, but now it felt warm to the touch. He had succeeded. He hadn't created magical fire; he had created heat through kinetic vibration, triggered by a power that was supposed to only negate.

[Capacity: 6/15]

The cost was enormous for such a small result. He felt exhausted, but also incredibly excited. A new door had opened. A door to power he created himself, not bound by the laws of magic in this world.

He looked at the nail that was now cooling in his hand, a faint smile—Heze's first smile in this world—etched on Nihil's face.

"If I can't use their magic," he whispered into the silent night. "I will create my own magic."

Tarek Mornhall's rage felt like a cold chill in the temporary headquarters of Umbra Venari. He stared at his damaged crossbow on the table, his broken arm a silent witness to his failure.

"He's not only strong, but also smart," Tarek growled to his lieutenant. "He knows the rules of The Weaver. He provokes without starting a fight. He disabled my weapon in a way I've never seen before. This is no longer a normal hunt."

The wide-net strategy had failed. His target was too slippery, too intelligent. Tarek realized he had to change his approach. He couldn't just chase anymore. He had to set a trap.

"Spread the word," Tarek commanded. "Post announcements on all the bounty boards in The Undercroft. A wealthy merchant family is seeking a 'curse removal specialist.' The reward is very high. They want to eliminate a 'mark of ownership' from a family heirloom."

His lieutenant understood. "A trap?"

"Exactly," said Tarek. "We'll rent a room at the Three Skulls Tavern—a place with a bad reputation. We'll prepare a fake artifact rigged with dozens of magical traps and sensors. The boy has shown his method. He offers his services to build a reputation. We'll use that reputation to catch him."

Tarek leaned back in his chair, his eyes coldly gleaming. "Let our prey think he's the hunter. We'll see who laughs last."

While Tarek set his trap, Velka Nocturne sought answers in a different place. Deep within the mansion's belly, hidden behind the bookshelves in the main library, there was a secret door. The door led to the private archives of the Nocturne ancestors, a place even Alban didn't know about.

Surrounded by ancient scrolls and books bound with strange leather, she continued translating the journal she had found. She cross-referenced the information from the journal with other texts, and a terrifying picture began to form.

She discovered that the "Raven's Escape" was not a single tunnel, but a complex network with many exits throughout the city. It was a safety net built by their paranoid ancestors. Nihil could be anywhere.

Then she found the most disturbing entry. A note about an ancestor named Lyraxis Nocturne, who also bore the curse three hundred years ago. The family tried to "contain" him in the same Vault. However, the containment failed. His Void Sync reached an uncontrollable level, and in a burst of despair, Lyraxis caused the "Erasure Event" that wiped a small village on the edge of the Nocturne territory off the map. There were no survivors. No ruins. Just fertile empty land as if the village had never existed. The event was neatly covered up by the family and the Imperium.

Velka's heart felt cold. History was repeating itself. Her father's plan to contain and Alban's plan to hunt, both were paths to the same disaster. She had to find Nihil first. Not to capture him or hurt him.

She had to warn him.

In The Undercroft, after resting and recovering his capacity, Nihil carefully returned to the streets to gather information. It didn't take long for him to see the new announcement posted on some bounty boards.

Wanted: Curse Removal Specialist. High Reward.

Heze's mind immediately analyzed it. The timing was too convenient. The job was too perfect. It was a trap. The probability was over 90%.

However, behind that logic, there was another urge. A need to keep moving forward, to take risks. A newfound arrogance born from his successes so far. Maybe it was a trap, but it was also an opportunity. An opportunity to face his hunters on his own terms.

He stared at the announcement, the conflict between caution and ambition raging within him. Finally, a decision was made.

He would go to the Three Skulls Tavern. But he would not come as prey falling into a trap. He would come as an analyst wanting to dismantle the mechanism of the trap.