Ping.
A soft, almost playful chime echoed in Damien's mind as a translucent blue window shimmered into view before him.
[System Notification]
▶ Host has weakened the mental state of a Side Character.
+200 EXP
▶ Host acted like a scoundrel.
+50 SP
Damien's smirk sharpened.
"There it is."
He exhaled slowly through his nose, fingers still drumming lazily against the desk, eyes unfocused as if the world around him had dulled to a low hum. Only the system's words remained vivid. Real.
He leaned back in his chair, still watching Leon from the corner of his eye—the tightly coiled tension in his fists, the barely-suppressed rage trembling through his limbs. Damien drank it in.
This was the reward.
Not the EXP. Not the SP. But the crack—that jagged little fracture he'd carved into the mind of a future hero.
Because Leon Ardent?
He wasn't just any student.
He was a flag.
A pivotal piece in the grand narrative that Damien remembered all too well.
Shackles of Fate.
