Talent Awakening! Every Legendary Summon Grants Me Assassin Attributes-Chapter 34: let’s wait and see! Farming Karma points.

[mass release 1/8]

Oliver watched in silence as the first man, the apparent leader of the team—strode up to him, grabbing onto his cloak and yanking him forward with a rough, domineering force.

"Come on, are you too scared to reply?" the man yelled into Oliver’s face, a forced grin stretching unnaturally across his expression, as though he was trying too hard to appear in control.

His team closed in around them, forming a loose circle. The ice mage, who had frozen Oliver’s legs in place, casually sat down on a jagged rock nearby, her staff resting lightly in her grasp as if she were merely watching entertainment rather than participating in a confrontation.

"Why so silent though?" she taunted, tilting her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with mockery. "Are you thinking of a plan to defeat us? As if. Even if you are a Ranker and probably levels ahead, all of us present here are level six and seven. You can’t possibly take us on."

That part was valid—at least to them.

They had the numbers. More than that, they were a well-oiled party, each member moving with the unspoken understanding of long-term teamwork. A group like theirs could surely take on a level ten Ranker. Even if his earlier displays, taking down a few E-rank groups, had only been a feint, this... this was different.

Still—

Oliver was not just any Ranker.

The things he had faced, both in this life and the one before, were horrors that would shatter the minds of ordinary Players. Things that would leave them screaming, clawing at their own sanity just from witnessing a fragment of it.

So he kept silent.

And waited.

Waited for the entire group to step out from the forest’s shadows... and draw closer to him.

Then—

He acted.

The leader pulled Oliver even closer, his expression twisting into an irritated frown, clearly angered by the lack of response.

"Hey, are you deaf or—"

He never got to finish.

Oliver moved.

It wasn’t just fast, it was unnatural.

His fist shot forward with explosive force, tearing through the air with a sharp whistle before colliding with the man’s face.

CRACK!

"Ahhhhhh!! Fuck!" A horrid scream tore from the leader’s throat as his body staggered backward violently, hands flying to his face as he crumpled slightly, dazed and disoriented from the sheer impact.

Oliver was free from his grasp.

But not entirely safe.

"You bastard!" one of them roared instantly, reacting without hesitation as he charged forward, sword drawn and aimed to kill.

He was experienced.

That much was clear from the speed and decisiveness of his reaction.

But—

Oliver was faster.

With a violent jerk, he rose to his feet, the ice binding his legs shattering into glittering shards that scattered across the ground like broken glass. He pivoted sharply, his gaze locking onto the mage who was still frozen in shock at the sudden turn of events.

Before she could react—

He grabbed her.

Roughly.

His hand clenched onto her shirt as he lifted her effortlessly, her breath hitching in panic before—

He threw her.

Her body soared through the air, crashing directly into the charging swordsman with bone-rattling force.

BOOM!

Both of them hit the ground hard, rolling over each other in a tangled mess of limbs and weapons.

The remaining three immediately drew their weapons, their earlier confidence replaced by sharp tension. Their stances lowered, bodies coiled, eyes locked onto Oliver with a newfound wariness.

They understood now.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

Yet—

Oliver remained calm.

Too calm.

He slowly raised a single finger, pointing it forward with deliberate intent.

"Don’t be fooled..." he said quietly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "You are in my domain now."

The air shifted.

It wasn’t dramatic at first, just a subtle change. A heaviness. Like the atmosphere itself had thickened, pressing invisibly against their skin, crawling into their lungs with every breath.

Then the darkness around Oliver flickered.

Violently.

Like something alive.

The group watched uneasy, then confused, their instincts screaming warnings they couldn’t yet comprehend.

Then—

Oliver lowered his hand.

"Dreamless spawn."

His cloak responded.

What was once a swirling mass of black shadow began to morph, twisting and reshaping itself into something far more... otherworldly. Dark azure currents spread across its surface, forming intricate sigils that pulsed with an eerie, living glow.

From an observer’s perspective, it looked like a night sky torn from reality itself—multiple ghostly moons swirling within its depths, orbiting endlessly in silent chaos.

[Dreamless Cloak has been equipped]

WHOOSH!

A violent gust of wind exploded outward from Oliver, tearing through the clearing with savage force. The pressure that followed was immediate—

Crushing.

One by one, the Players dropped.

Forced to their knees—no—

To their stomachs.

Their bodies slammed against the ground, unable to withstand the overwhelming pressure bearing down on them like an invisible mountain.

The power of the Dreamless Cloak.

Oliver exhaled softly, almost bored.

"The Dreamless Cloak..." he began calmly, as though lecturing rather than dominating. "...is something I acquired from an S-rank Tyrant. I almost lost my life obtaining it."

His gaze swept over them.

"It allows me to create dreams of my own within others. However... I’m not that strong yet."

A faint pause.

"So let’s manage this much for now, shall we?"

"What the hell is this?!" one of them screamed, his voice cracking under the strain. "Why can’t I move?! You bastard!"

"Fuck!"

Oliver observed them quietly.

Studying.

Their expressions had changed beautifully.

From smug satisfaction... to confusion... to fear.

Now—

Desperation.

"How pitiful," he muttered, loud enough for all of them to hear.

Then, as if none of this mattered, he casually walked over and sat on the same rock the mage had occupied earlier, crossing one leg over the other as he rested his elbow against his knee.

"Gaaah!" the leader groaned, finally giving up on trying to force himself up. His body trembled violently under the pressure. "So... you have us... What are you going to do now?"

Oliver didn’t respond immediately.

He let the silence stretch.

Let the weight of the atmosphere sink deeper into their bones.

Then—

"After becoming a Ranker," he began slowly, "I expected to be trailed by a group like this. So I made you cocky... by going after weak creatures."

His voice remained steady. Unbothered.

"If I had fought you at full strength, I might have won... but not without serious injuries. Or wasting a life I can still willingly sacrifice."

"Hey! You didn’t answer my question!" the leader snapped, desperation bleeding through his voice. "What are you going to do with me and my team?!"

Silence.

Again.

Oliver said nothing.

His masked face remained unreadable, the only visible feature being the hollow darkness within his eyes—like staring into an abyss that stared back.

Then—

He raised his hand.

White, ethereal light surged into existence, coiling and weaving together as if guided by an unseen force. The system’s energy condensed, taking shape—

Not into a weapon meant for battle.

But something far more unsettling.

A hammer.

And nails.

"What...?" one of them stuttered, his voice barely a whisper now.

Oliver tilted his head slightly.

"For what I want to do with you..." he said calmly, his tone almost gentle—

"Let’s wait and see."