The sound of the Oracle came through in their ears, making them leave what they were talking about previously.
A brown paper, similar to the one that the world record was displayed on, appeared right in front of Harley’s vision, and the text began to form.
[A nameless jester received a vision of his village’s ruin and sailed with the very pirates who came to destroy it. Disguised in their skins, he danced for their entertainment upon the knife’s edge, unbroken by chains, blades, and humiliation. Rejecting the fate cast upon him, he chased true freedom with cunning words and colder blood, poisoning decks and kingdoms alike, betraying allies and enemies in turn until the island of bones trembled beneath his mortal steps. There, amid thousands of undead and the wrath of a celestial godkin, his Cold Blood drank deep of slaughter and granted him the strength to slay what gods themselves would fear.]
[You have defeated a pirate crew and their captain through deception and paralytic poison.]
[You have defeated the captured knights who sought to bind you to their war.]
[You have defeated the Raven’s forces and an entire kingdom’s army with siege and poisoned waters.]
[You have defeated a treacherous seer, after sharing your deepest secrets with her.]
[You have slain thousands of undead horrors upon the island of bones.]
[You have wiped out an entire kingdom by poisoning their waters.]
[You have defeated a celestial godsworn: the giant’s offspring.]
[You have cleared an impossible trial!]
[A new tale is being woven...]
[Tale: The Jester’s Masquerade
Rank: Legendary
Type: Passive Skill — Legend
Description:
Once upon a time, a nameless jester refused the role fate had written for him. He became the mask, the blade hidden in silk, the poison sweetened with laughter. Betrayer of allies and enemies alike, dancer on the edge of death, slayer of tyrants and celestials through guile rather than raw power.
While this Tale resonates within you, your Cold Blood attribute flares with every act of calculated betrayal, deception, or survival against overwhelming odds. The more lives you end through cunning rather than brute force, the greater the surge of essence and temporary power you receive. Illusions and disguises woven by you become harder to pierce, and those who trust your words too easily find their own strength turned against them.
Passive Effect:
Cold Blood Amplification — Killing through schemes, poison, betrayal, or misdirection grants you a greater essence regeneration and temporarily elevates your physical and mental attributes.
Masquerade Veil — Your disguises and lies carry a subtle conceptual weight, making them more convincing to those of equal or lower rank.
Unbound Resolve — Once per month you may reject an imposed fate or mental compulsion, reigniting your will to chase freedom at the cost of something precious to you.]
Multiple similar brown papers appeared in front of Harley, making him slightly overwhelmed. He took his time to go through each of the papers carefully, and he couldn’t be more satisfied.
’A legendary tale in a trial.’ He smiled widely, satisfied with his new tale and its effects.
Although, after all he had suffered, he would have preferred a direct combat ability, or a magic skill.
Back in the real world, wardens refer to tales as a medium through which their own story grows stronger. Tales form to restructure a person and their strength.
It was vastly different from attributes as it makes the abilities tied to your story stronger. And it was infinitely hard to get a tale as it has to be original.
On the other hand, attributes were well known around the world as acquirable through certain means. There were various attributes whose methods of acquisition were already well known to most wardens and even normal people like he was.
"Hm?" Harley frowned, looking at another paper in front of him.
[Your acquired tales and attributes are being evaluated.]
[Tale: Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing]
[Attribute: Cold Blooded, State of Slaughter]
[Tale: Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
Rank: Heroic
Type: Passive Skill — Legend
Tale content: A jester, scared and afraid, hid from the very people who destroyed his home. The pirates spared his life, using him as a toy; but that was their biggest mistake. Allowing Harlequin to live was their biggest mistake.
Under their gazes he made them see him as harmless. Harlequin killed a pirate to lure a dangerous creature to the ship, all to make the captain weak. Every step he took and everything that he knew, he used to his advantage. And at the end, he poured desert ash in the pirates’ beer and secured a clean victory.
He, a lost lone man in a foreign space, managed to kill every single person. And even the knights should be wary of him, for he has a plan to deal with them if they cross the line.
Passive Effects:
- Convincing Masquerade: Your lies and disguises become significantly more believable.
---
Attribute: Cold Blooded
Rank: Legendary
Type: Passive Ability — Killing Intent
Passive Effects:
- Killing Intent: When you consciously target a specific person or creature, you can project a palpable killing intent that unnerves weaker foes, slightly disrupts their focus, and fills them with a sense of dread. The intensity scales with the significance of a target.
---
State of Slaughter
Rank: Mythical
Type: Active/Passive Triggered State — Slaughter Focus
Description:
A legacy left by the ’God of Slaughter’.
When the tide of battle swells and countless enemies surround you, or when survival demands absolute clarity, you may sink into the "State of Slaughter".
In this state, the world drains of color and becomes grey. All unnecessary sound fades. All stray thoughts vanish. Only the pure intent to kill remains. Your focus reaches its absolute peak — nothing exists except the next swing, the next strike, the next life to end.
This state first awakened on the island of bones, where you faced thousands of undead horrors. There, it allowed a mere mortal wielding peak human strength to keep swinging without pause or doubt until the horde broke before you.
Activation Condition:
You can trigger this state at will when facing a large number of enemies (hordes, armies, swarms) or in overwhelmingly dire multi-foe situations. The more numerous or relentless the opposition, the easier and more potent the activation becomes.
Effects:
- Complete mental silence — no fear, no pain distraction, no distracting thoughts.
- Hyper-focused combat clarity — every movement becomes efficient and instinctive, allowing relentless, tireless slaughter for the duration.
- Enhanced endurance and killing efficiency against groups — your swings, strikes, and reactions flow without hesitation, letting you cut through masses far beyond what raw strength alone would allow.
- Duration and power scale with the scale of the threat and your Cold Blood resonance.
---
[Re-evaluation complete.]
[The Tale ’Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing’ has settled at **Heroic** rank, capturing the elegant essence of your deceptions without overreaching the scale of your masquerades.]
[Cold Blooded stands firm at Legendary, granting the sharp edge of killing intent born from your calculated betrayals.]
[State of Slaughter has crystallized at Mythical rank, reflecting the impossible focus that let you defy death against hordes and a celestial godkin through pure, unrelenting will.]
Harley’s mouth was left open. He gazed at his newly ranked attributes and tales, and he couldn’t help but want to just break down and cry.
"Still no magical ability. Does the Oracle want me to be a thief?" Harley couldn’t help but mutter out loud.
He raised a brow, looking sideways to see Vernox gazing at the empty air in front of him with sharp focus, a smile on his face.
’That bastard probably got a great power.’ Harley sighed, looking back at the papers in front of him.
’I can’t believe I got a mythical Attribute.’ He shook his head.
Looking at everything he got in this trial, he couldn’t help but be satisfied. Although some of the abilities he struggled to grasp their meaning and effect, he’ll just check those later when he goes back to the real world.
Mythical attributes and even legendary ones are by no means common. Looking in front of him now, it looked so real it definitely wasn’t a dream. Despite the low number of wardens that passed their trials, there weren’t many who received a legendary attribute.
But to think he got a mythical one... He was flabbergasted.
’Now, all that’s left is my story profile and rewards.’ Harley rubbed his hands together.
A story in this case was like... a class in a game. But more than that, according to researchers, stories belonged to people who had accomplished great feats, creating these stories that can be passed on to another person.
After undergoing a trial, a story chooses a challenger.
And what Harley was expecting was nothing less than a mythical ranked story. By the way the trial went, he wouldn’t settle for anything less than that.
After waiting for a few minutes, Vernox finally moved. He looked at Harley, smiling in satisfaction.
"It was great working with you." He bowed a little, turning around.
There, a huge door appeared out of nowhere with a clap of thunder. Harley stared at the massive seven-meter door. He couldn’t help but think that he had seen it before. The red door had the image of a skeleton with two horns and hard sharp edges on the top of it.
Harley watched Vernox leave, and the door shut behind him. Meanwhile, he waited patiently for the rest of his rewards.
{Harlequin.}
Harley’s face fell as he felt the presence of something huge behind him. The voice was not singular; it was as if a dozen voices spoke his name together.
The Oracle’s voice threaded into Harlequin’s ears—insidious, like thousands of overlapping whispers.
Every instinct screamed at him: do not look back, so he closed his eyes.
A soft hand rubbed the back of his neck. As if trying to tickle him... No, it was just gentle and somewhat warm.
A feminine voice spoke gently.
"Where are my manners?" she giggled, as if trying to tempt him to open his eyes.
"You can look now."
Harley frowned, hesitating for a few seconds, but then he opened his eyes and raised a brow as he stared at the figure in front of him.
An ethereal woman stood before him, blindfolded in flowing robes that engulfed even her feet.
"I am the Oracle," she said, frowning as she looked behind him.
"Do you like this form of mine? I thought a puppet like you would be able to bear the sight of my true form." She smiled playfully.
"What do you mean...?" Harley frowned, looking at the woman in front of him, staying completely still so as not to be able to even glimpse what was behind him.
’I— I need sleep.’ Harley sighed.