In the corrupt Kingdom of Velmora, where nobles hoard magic like coins and the poor are hunted like animals, the forgotten village of Stonegrove rotted quietly in the mist-covered east. It was there, on the outskirts, near a crumbling orphanage, that a boy named Lucian learned what it meant to be unwanted. Fifteen years old, dirt-streaked, but with eyes that still held hope, he believed in the only thing left to him: Lyra.
She was the only one who ever saw him. The one who stole bread for him when he starved. Who promised—every night—that they’d run away from this hellhole and find freedom. “I’ll never leave you, Lucian,” she’d whisper. “We’re in this together.”
And then... she did.
On the night of the Blood Rite, Lucian was dragged from his bed by masked villagers. Hooded figures carried him deep into the Cave of Mourning, an ancient sacrificial site veiled in blood and old whispers. He screamed, kicked, begged.
And there, beneath flickering torches, he saw her—Lyra. Her hands folded. Her face blank.
“L-Lyra…? What is this? Help me!”
She didn’t meet his eyes.
“W-why?” he choked. “You said you’d never leave me…”
Her lips quivered. But she said nothing.
The high priest raised a jagged ritual blade. The cult chanted. Lucian’s body arched as the knife plunged into his chest. Blood soaked the runes etched into the stone floor.
The last thing he heard before his world went dark… was Lyra whispering:
“I’m sorry.”
---
He awoke screaming.
A guttural cry ripped from his throat as he shot upright, drenched in sweat and dirt. His breath came in rasps. His heart pounded. Pain shot through every nerve.
He was in a cabin. Rough wood walls, a fire dimly flickering in a stone hearth. His chest was intact—no wound, no blood. But he remembered. The cave. The blade. The betrayal.
Panicked, he stumbled to a tall, cracked mirror leaning against the wall. What he saw wasn’t the boy who’d fallen asleep in Stonegrove.
This Lucian was pale, haunted. His once brown eyes now shimmered with unnatural crimson. His aura—wrong.
And then it came.
> [SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE.]
Candidate #001 Identified: Lucian
Welcome to The Hidden Cost.
This system has been installed to compensate for the unfairness of fate.
The world abandoned you. Let us grant you power.
Beware: every gift demands sacrifice.
Lucian staggered back. “W-What is this?!”
> Initializing Trial One…
Location: Whispering Woods, eastern Velmora
Objective: Survive three days and three nights
No help. No retreat. No mercy.
Reward: First evolution unlocked
A new screen opened beside it:
> [STATUS SCREEN – CANDIDATE: LUCIAN]
HP: 540/900
MP: 110/200
Strength: 32
Agility: 25
Intelligence: 21
Dark Energy: 1,000,000,000
Trait: Dominion Over Shadows
Ability: Soulbind Resurrection
Title: The Abandoned One
> [Trial Begins in 3… 2… 1…]
---
The Whispering Woods howled like a thousand dead voices. Lucian ran. Survived. Fought. On the first day, goblins attacked in the dark. Savage beasts with glassy black eyes and rusty blades. Fangs—a mutant wolfpack—descended next. Lucian stabbed, bled, screamed, and crawled his way to dusk.
Day 2 was worse.
A demonic boar rammed him through a tree. He broke ribs. Fevered. Starved. He begged for the system to help—but no answer came. The only warmth was the demon blood staining his hands.
Day 3 was hell.
An A-Tier Demon appeared—horns like blades, eyes like fire, voice like thunder. Lucian didn’t stand a chance. His arm shattered. His vision blurred.
Then—
> [System Override Detected – Candidate HP Critical]
Unsealing Core…
Dark Core Activated.
Black lightning erupted from Lucian’s chest. Power poured into his limbs. His shadow moved on its own. And in one final, brutal cry—Lucian obliterated the demon.
He collapsed, nearly dead.
> [New Ability Unlocked: Black Pulse Slash]
[Soulbind Available: Revive A-Tier Demon?]
He nodded. The demon rose, bound in red chains. It bowed to him, its soul now his.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Lucian didn’t speak. He was too tired to care.
---
He limped through the forest for hours—until he saw it.
The cabin. Again.
Only this time, there were voices inside.
He pushed the door open.
A family turned to him—human. A man and woman near the hearth. Two boys, 13 years old. And a girl—his age, maybe.
She stood. Eyes wide with relief.
“You’re awake!” she smiled. “I found you in a cave, barely breathing. I dragged you out. My brothers helped. We brought you here to heal.”
Lucian blinked. Confused.
“This is our home,” she continued. “We’re the Scotch Family. We live out here in the woods.”
He said nothing.
She smiled again, softly. “You’re safe now.”
Behind him, the demon loomed like a shadow. Lucian stared into the fire—haunted by betrayal, by blood, and by a system whispering of godhood.
Safe?
He didn’t believe in safety anymore.
The cabin, despite its rustic simplicity, was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold forest outside. The table was set with simple but hearty food—freshly roasted game, wild herbs, and bread that crackled softly when broken. The Scotch family ate in relative silence, as if accustomed to the awkwardness that a stranger in their midst brought.
Lucian kept his hood low, his face cast in shadows, his mind whirring with thoughts.
He could feel the weight of their stares—their curiosity—but he refused to meet anyone's gaze for too long. His eyes, sharp like knives, flicked from person to person, analyzing each of their movements. Their gestures seemed harmless, but he wasn’t here to make friends. He was here to survive and grow stronger.
Still, there was one question that kept bubbling in his mind, one that he needed an answer to.
“Why live out here in the woods?” His voice cut through the quiet like a blade. “Why not in the cities? Why hide away in a cabin?”
The room went still. The crackling fire, the sounds of chewing—everything halted as they looked at him. Lucian knew it was a question they hadn’t expected, but he needed to know. This family... what were they hiding?
Rheya, the girl who had brought him here, set her fork down slowly, her gaze flicking nervously from her parents to her brothers. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes, dark and somber, betrayed a deep sadness.
For a moment, Lucian could feel a shift in the air, an unease that settled like a heavy fog. He didn’t move, but his attention sharpened.
“We used to live in Elarith, the capital,” Rheya began, her voice soft but steady, as if telling the story was an old, painful routine. “My father was a soldier. My mother a healer. We weren’t rich, but we were happy. We had a life, a future.”
Lucian leaned forward slightly, his hunger for information growing. He didn’t say anything, but his expression remained intent, focused on her.
“Then... then the Purge happened,” Rheya continued, her voice breaking ever so slightly. “A noble accused my father of treason. Said he sold secrets to our enemies. It was a lie, Lucian. But no one listened. Not the king, not the people. They dragged him through the streets, humiliated him, cut off his arm, and branded us traitors.”
Lucian’s eyes flickered to her father, Calden, whose gaze had turned hard, his expression a mask of silent fury. Lucian felt a strange, almost chilling connection to him. He understood the weight of betrayal more than anyone. It was a wound that cut deep, a scar that never healed.
“My brothers...” Rheya’s voice faltered for a moment. “They tried to take them. Tried to make them orphans, like me, like you. My mother... she was beaten. And in the end, we had no choice but to run. No names, no home. Just us, and the woods.”
Maela, her mother, glanced at her husband, a tear slipping down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away. The atmosphere in the room had become thick with sorrow and regret.
Lucian didn’t speak right away. His gaze never wavered, but inside, a small flicker of something stirred—an emotion he hadn’t expected to feel: sympathy. For a brief moment, his cold heart softened, as if the weight of their shared suffering had touched something deep within him.
But that warmth was fleeting. It lasted no more than a heartbeat.
“I see,” he murmured, not really answering. His voice remained low, distant, detached. “And how long have you been living like this?”
Rheya gave a hollow laugh, her eyes darkening. “Long enough. Long enough for it to feel like a lifetime.”
Silence fell again, this time thicker, heavier. The fire crackled, and Lucian, lost in his thoughts, looked into the flickering flames. His mind was a whirlwind of questions.
He had heard enough to know that the family had endured a great deal. The temptation to use them—to enslave them, to gain leverage—was almost overwhelming. Could he sacrifice them for power? Could he take what they had—this family, their home—and bend them to his will? The idea lingered in his mind, but he didn’t let it show on his face. Not yet.
Instead, he sat back, his eyes now scanning each of them carefully. The pieces were falling into place. They were a means to an end. He didn’t need to care about their tragic past. He didn’t need to care about their pain. But at the same time, there was something about them—about Rheya—that gave him pause.
He shook his head slightly, almost as if to clear the thought. Focus. It was his mantra now.
“You should have stayed in the city,” he said flatly, his gaze shifting to Maela and Calden. “The Purge… it wasn’t your fault.”
Calden’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Maela just nodded slowly, her eyes tired but not broken.
Then, without another word, Lucian stood up from the table. His body ached from the battle, and he needed time alone to think. He needed time to plan. His hunger for power, for revenge, was growing stronger. These people—this family—could serve as his first step in conquering the world.
He excused himself, muttering a brief, “I’ll be in my room.”
The Scotch family didn’t object. They understood. And they were grateful, though they couldn’t know the true extent of Lucian’s intentions.
---
That night, in his room, Lucian sat on the edge of the bed, the darkness of the cabin pressing in around him. He closed his eyes and let out a slow, deep breath. His thoughts swirled like a storm.
The questions lingered in his mind. Should he kill them all? Should he use them? Could he sacrifice them for his future—his ultimate power? The idea was delicious, intoxicating. They were nothing but pawns to him. But somehow, a small voice inside told him that he wasn’t ready to act just yet. There was something about Rheya that made him hesitate. She had helped him, and in his world, that meant something—though it wasn’t enough to stop him from what he truly wanted.
With a twisted grin, Lucian’s mind drifted to his powers—the darkness, the resurrection, the shadows. He could do anything now. He could own them. He could control them.
The door creaked softly. Lucian’s eyes snapped open, and he turned slowly to see Rheya standing there, her silhouette barely visible in the dim light.
“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with concern.
Lucian met her gaze, his smile curling into something more sinister. “I will be,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “But you… you’ve helped me. And now… you’ll pay the price for that.”
---
Later that night, as Lucian lay in bed, the shadow of the "Brother Six Touchdown" began to stir in his mind. It was a name that had been whispered to him in his dark dreams—a powerful faction that had a part to play in his rise. Their origins were unknown to him, but their power would be useful in his quest. He had to find them. He had to control them.
But first, he needed to deal with the family, with Rheya. He wasn’t sure how or when, but he knew one thing for certain.
They were the first test. And he would break them, one by one.
