Amon was standing near one of the piles of rocks that were littering the ground around the body of the dead creature, looking at it with a solemn expression. Most of them came from beast's shattered carapace, while some were created because the floor of the quarry was broken apart and churned during the ferocious battle.

Though, this pile of rocks was different from all others. It was lower, roughly oval in shape, its contour too perfect to be the result of a pure coincidence.

It seemed as though each rock was painstakingly placed here by a human hand, perhaps in hopes to make the pile as orderly and sturdy as possible.

Well, he was staring the grave of someone. Cut into the stone by unknown means, a single sentence was left behind on the otherwise unmarked grave.

"Her nightmare is over"

Amon sighed, at a loss for words. For the first time, he truly felt how vile his flaw could be. Standing before the grave, a bizarre and almost nauseating urge gnawed at him, an urge to destroy it.

I need to learn how to control this…

The thought weighed on him like a stone. Back at the academy, his flaw had been little more than a source of mischief, trouble that felt almost harmless. But now... Now that he could feel the pull to commit something so abhorrent, he came to a stark realization. His flaw wasn't a quirk. It was a danger.

And it didn't stop there. The craving wasn't just to defile the grave. It was to march into that damned cave and steal the crown of the First Bright Lord.

A feat that would be suicide.

He took a deep breath, stepping toward the grave as a pleasant smile crept across his face, one full of delight and wicked amusement. But he froze, slapped his cheeks hard, and turned away with a groan.

How did I never figure it out?! The flaw isn't something to mess with.

And then it hit him, the things he'd done back at the academy. The stunts, the trouble… that wasn't really him. Normally, he was just a guy who liked to mind his own business.

So why…?

Flaw: Blasphemer's Gambit.

"Shit…" He clutched his head, a dull throb blooming behind his eyes. "Fucking headache."

Calm down... Some of the pranks were just to test my theory. Not everything is caused by flaw.

Just take a deep breath and remember...

A marauder isn't someone who steals everything. That's something I need to work on. I don't steal just because I'm greedy or starving. I steal because it's my purpose. Fear and reputation are weapons, just as sharp as steel. That's something i need to remember as well.

Don't take random junk. Take what you want, what's delightful to pry from someone's grasp. Theft is a challenge. The riskier it is, the harsher the consequences if you fail… the sweeter the reward. The satisfaction comes not only from the loot, but from pulling off the impossible.

As Amon solidified that thought, something inside him shifted. He gasped, stumbling onto the rocky ground. His mind, body, and soul slipped into a strange, magical state. Then, an illusory shattering sound rang in his ear, crisp and impossible to ignore.

Something within him was dissolving… and blending seamlessly into his spirit.

Half-closing his eyes, Amon sank into the indescribable sensation, saying nothing.

And then, in the depths of his mind, a vast and echoing voice resounded:

[One of your Attributes is ready to evolve.]

He froze. Wait… could it be?

Heart quickening, he immediately summoned his runes to check his attributes.

Attributes: [Uniqueness of Error], [Liar], [Superior Observation], [Marauder].

Amon smiled, his eyes widening. So that's how it is… nothing changed at first glance but at the same time something did.

He could feel it, every aspect of his Marauder's abilities had been sharpened, perfected. His hands moved with effortless precision, his fingers and wrists bending with a grace and dexterity that felt almost inhuman.

His intuition, too, had grown sharper. He still couldn't know exactly what he wanted to steal, but he could now sense the weight of value, an instinctive awareness. Even the rock beneath his feet hummed with worth. Where once it had been a vague impression, now it was more clearer.

And it didn't stop there. His body felt lighter, deadlier. The same hands that could lift a coin unnoticed could now drive a blade with surgical speed. his combat instincts was now honed to match his cunning.

His body was stronger now; more agile, more dexterous, more powerful. Amon could tell that with just a month or two of training, he could pull off feats of acrobatics that would have been impossible before: swinging himself up by his feet, scaling the sides of buildings with ease, or backflipping clear of an incoming attack.

And his hands… his hands were something else entirely. Every movement felt sharp, precise. Throwing knives would come as naturally as breathing, and paired with Superior Observation, his strikes would only grow deadlier.

A sudden joy bloomed in his chest. It worked. It actually worked!

It hadn't just been his flaw driving him to pull ridiculous stunts. This had been his own little experiment, his attempt to figure out how to evolve an Attribute. And by the looks of it, he had succeeded.

It was possible to digest the characteristics of an Attribute, strengthening them the same way Beyonders in Lord of Mysteries digested potions.

At first, he'd been doubtful. His Attribute was just Marauder, how could that possibly evolve? So he'd put it to the test, living and acting like a true Marauder.

And now, with one final moment of clarity on this godforsaken land… he had digested it.

Then Spell's voice echoed in his mind, mechanical as always, but with an inexplicable flicker of emotion buried deep within. Strange...

[Marauder] is ready to evolve. Proceed?

Amon stayed perfectly still, the question hanging heavy in the silence. Should I?

The answer was obvious, but caution gripped him tighter than he liked. The longer he hesitated, the stronger the knot of fear grew in his gut.

Half an hour passed as he sat, running through every possible nightmare scenario in his head. What if it's like in Lord of Mysteries? Even if I've fully digested it, could there still be corruption?

Ugh… he didn't know.

Sighing, he shook his head and cupped water from the Endless Spring, splashing it across his face and looked up, his voice was calm, steady.

"Yeah… go on, my dear lady."

Immediately, the name and description of the Attribute shifted on his runes. The new text glowed clearly before him:

Attribute: [Swindler]

[Swindler] Attribute Description:

"Swindlers are masters of deception and persuasion, thriving on trickery and fraud. They manipulate others' perceptions and thoughts through charm, eloquence, and mental influence, enjoying the art of swindling for both gain and amusement."

Amon smiled, a breath of relief escaping him. No losing control… no turning into an Abomination. That was good, really good.

But now, a lot was left to figure out. Lord of Mysteries never mentioned any acting methods for the Swindler, at least none he could remember.

That meant, he'd have to build his own path, create his own acting method, if he wanted to truly digest this Attribute.

After a few minutes, Amon glanced around and noticed there were no nightmare creatures in sight. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and began training with his new abilities; testing his enhanced physical skills, sharpening his upgraded Superior Observation, and honing the dexterity of his hands.

An hour later, he let out a satisfied smile, sitting down to drink from the Endless Spring and wipe sweat from his brow.

Though… how exactly am I supposed to act as a Swindler?

Or rather, Where the hell do I find some gullible pigeons to scam?

He groaned inwardly. Eh, Life's tough again. I can't even find someone stupid enough to fool just to figure out my acting method… shit.

He frowned, staring at his runes. Eh, maybe that mystery can wait for another time. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. That giant statue dude wasn't here to take him back to the Forgotten Shore, and the Hollow Mountains looked like they'd be his grave. Dilemma, huh?

He glanced again at his Attributes. [Uniqueness of Error]… That sounded seriously scary now.

So how do these things work? Is there some kind of synergy between the Attributes from the Error pathway and it's Uniqueness?

He shook his head. I don't know. I'll have to keep experimenting.

But one thing was certain, the Forgotten Shore was the destination he really needed to reach. At least there, he could become a proper Swindler.

He stood up. Staying in one place wasn't going to help. He needed to find a spot with high vantage, somewhere that would keep him hidden from nightmare creatures, where he could rest and prepare for the journey ahead.

If the colossal statue arrived early, he might reach Dark City before the cohort. But there was another problem: he needed food. And he was no hunter.

Now, regret gnawed at him for refusing Medici's insistence to teach him how to hunt. He'd been too focused on testing his theory, and that flaw hadn't exactly made things easier.

He looked around, his Superior Observation sharpening his awareness of the surroundings. There was nothing but cliffs, chasms, and rocks... Lots of giant rocks.

"Okay, let's go."

He murmured, then froze, suddenly remembering something important… he was naked.

Coughing into his fist from embarrassment, he quickly summoned the Chameleon's Cloak. Made from soft fabric, it felt comfortable wrapped around Amon's body. It covered most of him, leaving only his hands exposed. His face was hidden under the hood as well. Honestly, he looked just like an assassin with this Memory.

Then he summoned his hidden blades and grinned.

"We work in the dark to serve the light, we are…"

He paused dramatically, then lowered his head and, in a deep voice, said:

"Electricians!"

He laughed quietly to himself as he walked, having little else to do but talk to his own thoughts.

Then, suddenly, a deep, bestial roar shattered the silence. Amon blinked rapidly, startled. Turning his head with a pleasant smile that quickly faded.

An Abomination, the size of a cottage, was charging toward him. It resembled a monstrous lizard, dragging its bulky body with surprising speed on two long, muscular arms. Its maw was filled with jagged fangs dripping acid, and its sleek, reptilian eyes gleamed with pure malice.

Amon took a step back, then another, before deciding to run.

Shit! Shit! Shit! No shame in this. This is the path of the cowardly trio!

He thought with a panicked grin as he fled.

But gradually, his pace slowed and then stopped altogether when a tortured, harrowing scream pierced the air, followed by the sickening sound of crushing bones and flesh being torn apart.

Amon frowned, slipping behind a rock and hesitantly glancing back. Where had the beast disappeared to?

He swallowed hard, then took tentative steps forward with trembling hands. As he approached the spot where he'd stopped, he froze.

A few meters away, a giant hole gaped in the ground and inside it lay the beast, impaled on sharp bones. It was dead.

Tilting his head, Amon's Superior Observation picked up another curious detail: it was a trap.

Someone had dug the hole, covered its edges with the skin of a nightmare creature, then camouflaged it with dirt and rocks, making it look natural. No normal human could fall for it, the rough texture of the skin held the dirt and rocks firmly in place. It was sturdy enough to withstand a human's weight… but not something as massive as this beast.

The bones were sharp enough to pierce the lizard's body as well… Who could have done this? Maybe there really was a human out here.

Amon's lips curled into an excited smile. Then his eyes suddenly widened. He snapped his head up and back, spotting a young man standing on a nearby cliff.

Long hair blazed under the sun, crimson eyes glittered with satisfaction, and a ferocious mace rested casually on his shoulder. He wore nothing but makeshift robes fashioned from the hide of a nightmare creature.

Their eyes locked and then narrowed. Both shook their heads, rubbing at their eyes as if trying to clear a hallucination.

"Hotdog?"

"Scammer?"