It was quiet.
Too quiet, if he was being honest.
The bandit leader stood just outside the small wooden house nestled at the edge of the woods, his eyes narrowed beneath his hood.
The night chill bit at his skin even as the heat of the fire was almost reaching them, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he watched the smoke drifting from the crooked chimney and waited.
He wasn't a man of impatience.
His men, on the other hand…
Inside, wood splintered, curses echoed, pots clattered. One of them yelled something about rats. Then—
"AHHH—MY EAR!"
Laughter exploded from within.
"Serves you right, dumbass! You leaned in and tried to grab her like that?"
"She bit my f***ing ear off!"
Then came another voice—gasping, breathless.
"Shit! She got me right in the—AGH!"
A pause. Then more laughter.
"Mercy, huh? Sure ain't much of that in her, boss!" One of his man leand in.
"Drag her out already," the leader called, calm and unimpressed. "We don't need her pretty, but do try not to harm her much."
A moment later, they stumbled out. Five bandits, two bruised, one with blood trailing down the side of his head, and another bent over, wheezing.
Between them, struggling like a cornered wolf, was a girl with dark black hair and fierce blue eyes. Mercy.
Her clothes were torn, one arm pinned behind her back, a line of blood on her temple from when she'd been struck with the flat of a blade. Her teeth were bared like fangs.
"LIAM!" she screamed, lungs full of fire.
The leader's gaze didn't flicker. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
Another bandit approached, this one less battered. "Boss. We searched the place top to bottom. Only found her."
The leader didn't even blink. "No matter, it seems she is already calling for him, saves us the trouble..."
Mercy froze. Her defiance wavered for just a heartbeat.
"Oh…" he murmured, eyes sliding toward the trees. "It seems only now you understand. We came for you two..."
She looked away, and he smiled—not cruelly. Coldly.
"I hate wasting time," he muttered, but froze mid-sentence.
He felt it.
A stillness in the air, a pressure—not magical, not divine. Instinctual.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He looked around slowly, eyes narrowing.
Something was off.
Then his system chimed.
[Warning: The Host is under an opponent's skill effect!]
[Warning: The Host is now classified as 'Prey'.]
His mind snapped into focus. Without hesitation, he turned and pulled his shield forward.
CLANG!
The blow landed like thunder.
His feet skidded across the dirt, boots dragging furrows. Pain shot up his arm. The shield groaned, bent inward at the center. Something wet trailed down his forearm—his tendons had strained, possibly torn.
"What the hell…" he breathed.
His system chimed again as his eyes narrowed.
[Notice: Other effects successfully resisted.]
[Notice: The Host is in a Moderate amount of danger.]
Across from him stood a creature.
Not a man.
It looked like a man—tall, bare-chested, muscles coiled like steel cables, but its face twisted with something... wrong.
A beast hiding inside.
'Moderate...?'
But did his system marke it wrongly?
[Liam - Level 0]
"Level 0?" the leader muttered.
'Serene Eyes...'
[Liam - Level 0] (Under Racial Skill: Apex Predator)
"A racial skill... Predator…?"
He read the boy's body again. The weight in his stance, the precision of his previous strike. This wasn't just raw power—it was instinct.
It was murder honed to perfection.
He shifted his weight, gripping his blade. "You're not new to this... You killed not just one before... also... I see the blood, how many of my man did you kill?"
No response. Just a low growl.
Behind him, Mercy stared, stunned. Not afraid—shaken. She's seen him like this before.
That told him more than any words.
"The client wasn't wrong to send us after you," he said aloud. "At first I was questioning why they would pay so much... now I see..."
Liam launched again.
The bandit leader met him, shield raised, sword lashing out with a skill-imbued sweep— 'Steel Biting Edge', the blade flaring with cutting force.
Liam dodged barely, his shoulder catching the edge—but his body not slowing.
Crack.
His shoulder snapped. Bone protruding.
The leader's eyes widened. 'Fuck, a mistake, I need him alive...'
Then the arm twisted, jerked—resetting itself mid-sprint—and Liam slammed into him again.
He kicked the boy back, breathing hard. "Freak…"
'Huf... It regenerates... at least I won't need to hold back...'
"You lot," he barked to his men who were readying their weapons, "stay out of this. You will hold me back!"
"But Boss—!"
"He'll kill you!"
Seeing his face, they backed off immediately.
The fight raged. The leader wasn't just strong—he was smart. He adapted quickly, keeping Liam at range with wide sweeps, aiming to slow him down with precision cuts. He tried a feint—then a jab.
Liam literally bit the blade, his mouth torn.
The leader yanked his sword back, horrified, only to feel claws rake across his chest. Blood poured.
"This thing... goes for the neck, the heart, the joints..." he muttered between breaths. "He's not fighting."
"He's hunting."
He turned to Mercy, who stood frozen.
'She is surprised, not terrified… no, she saw this before, but is also scared somewhat...'
"Liam!" Mercy screamed up as the blade slashed across his chest.
'She is scared for him... this means... he won't be able to hold this for long...'
Another strike hit his leg. He retaliated with a 'Staggering Blow' and finally knocked Liam off balance, slashing at his ribs. Liam reeled.
But then… the wounds closed.
Healed.
Right before his eyes. 'That's good... I won't be able to keep this up for much longer either... I also need a Potion, my arm is killing me...' Looking down at his shield arm trembling, the Boss hesitated for a moment but still launched forward.
Again.
And again.
"Will the Boss win?" Witnessing this, the bandits began to speak amongst themselves.
"Hah, what kind of question is this? Obviously he will!"
"Yeah, the Boss is Level 10 and also has a Rare Class, a Level 0 whatever beast is this won't be able to win."
"Yeah but... that thing... it looks scary... it just stands up... again and again..."
"..." For this, none of them spoke, each had an instinct flowing in them telling them to run, but how could they? What if they get caught later...
And so the battle raged on, strikes were exchanged again and again, somewhere in between the Boss also had time to drink a Healing Potion, almost turning the tide, but before he could, he got another hit.
And yet... something else was becoming apparent.
The strikes were slowing.
The leader narrowed his eyes. "You're getting weaker... The longer this goes, the slower you move, but you are geting much weaker too. Give up..."
He stepped back, gathering his energy. One final skill—'Gravity Breaker Slash, my final attack.'
"Eat this!" A heavy cleaving strike, not to kill, but to sever.
He leapt—then brought the blade down, a sword that moved so qucky, Liam culdn't dogde.
Slice.
Blood sprayed.
Liam's arm hit the dirt.
He didn't scream.
Didn't flinch.
Just turned his bloodied face toward him, striking even as his eyes locked on Mercy.
"No," she whispered.
The leader didn't wait, while defending from the attack he screamed. "NOW!"
His men rushed forward. They collided into Liam, chains in hand.
He struggled. Hard.
Bones cracked, metal bent, one man screamed.
But then another chain wrapped around his throat. Another around his leg. The weight piled on, dragging him down.
He snarled, his body trying to rise—like something underneath the skin refused to kneel.
But the last blow had taken too much.
Eventually, the beast sank into the dirt.
His blood pooled around him, red against the dark soil.
Still breathing.
But caught.
Still watching.
But silent.
Eyes still filled with force, raging.
And for the first time in a long time—the bandit leader felt something crawl up his spine.
Dread. 'This guy...'
"Use the enchanted one too, lets not give it to chance..." Saying, he floped to the ground , he was so tried, it was hard to stand.
The chains clinked as they settled. The last loop wrapped around Liam's torso, this one was heavy, too heavy, easly pinning him into the dirt.
Still, his body trembled with suppressed fury, his eyes burning like coals buried in ash.
Mercy screamed.
"No—NO! Stop! Get off him!"
She thrashed in the arms of her captor, kicking and clawing. Her voice broke into ragged sobs as she watched Liam's bound body twitch violently, muscles spasming beneath bruised and bloodied skin.
"LIAM! PLEASE!"
The bandit leader turned toward her, annoyed at first—but then he tilted his head.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, more curious than cruel. "We're not going to kill you. Either of you. We need you both alive. He will regenerate."
Mercy's face twisted, her eyes wide with terror.
"That's the problem!" she screamed. "Liam—he'll die!"
The boss's brow furrowed.
One of the bandits beside Liam shifted uneasily. "Uh... Boss?"
He turned. "What?"
"There's... something wrong."
The leader stood up, stepping closer, boots crunching over the dirt.
Liam was still writhing. But it wasn't just rage anymore—it was convulsions. His body jerked, fingers curling in ways they shouldn't. Then the leader saw it.
The arm he had severed—had clearly cut off—was almost completely reformed.
Muscle and sinew had re-knitted, veins pulsing under semi-translucent skin. Bones had locked back into place, and the hand was twitching again.
Regeneration wasn't new, but... it didn't end there.
Liam's whole body was changing.
His arms thinned. His legs shrank. The veins stood out too prominently, the ribs protruding, the sharp angles of his jaw more sunken by the second.
He was losing mass rapidly, his body devouring itself to sustain something unspeakable.
It wasn't just that he was regenerating—it was costing him everything.
Skin. Muscle. Even life.
The leader's eyes widened. "He's burning his own body to stay alive?"
Mercy screamed again. "STOP HIM! HE'S GOING TO DIE!"
"Get him a potion!" the boss roared. "Now!"
A bandit froze. "B-Boss, that's a high-grade—"
"DO IT!" he barked, turning with venom. "We get ten times more for both of them alive! Nothing if even one dies!"
The man flinched, then cursed, fumbling into his pouch. A red vial, swirling with golden flecks, emerged.
"Open his mouth!"
Another hesitated, then pried Liam's jaws open. The potion was poured in—he choked at first, then swallowed reflexively.
For a moment... nothing.
Then his eyes flared wide, and he again thrashed violently against the chains.
But just as suddenly, he went limp.
"...?"
His body slumped. One last breath wheezed out of him. The tremors stopped.
And then...
He was still.
Too still.
The bandits stared.
The one holding the vial stepped back. "Boss?"
"Give him another—NOW!"
But as the second potion was lifted, the one holding his mouth open said quietly. "Too late..."
Everyone turned to him.
"He's... he's not breathing anymore."
The leader froze.
Mercy let out a sound—raw and broken, not quite a scream, not quite a sob. Just grief made audible.
She fell to her knees, still held tight by a bandit, her head shaking violently.
"No... no, please... not again..."
The boss stared down at Liam—at the stillness in that corpse-like frame, the chains hanging slack around the thin body that no longer moved.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Not like this.
And somewhere deep inside—even if he'd never admit it—he felt something crack.
Because the monster they'd just subdued was now looking nothing more than a boy.
And the boy was dead.
Somewhere in his life, he promised himself not to kill unfortunate kids, but sadly, it seems he broke even that today.