Talent Awakening! Every Legendary Summon Grants Me Assassin Attributes-Chapter 35: I am the one that Gets to Live

"Now we are done," Oliver rose up from his kneeling position, appearing a bit exhausted from the little work of art he had been performing.

He raised a hand to his face and briefly wiped off the stains of blood that were already drying over his skin, flaking slightly with the motion.

He was stained with blood all over, but none of it was his own. He was tired—not from battle, but from dealing with... a few loose ends.

Oliver’s empty gaze drifted toward the group of Players—the same group that had once chased him down. Now, they were all pinned to the ground, their hands and legs nailed into the cold rock, wrists slit and oozing blood endlessly.

Some of them were missing limbs. Others were carved open in different places, each wound deliberately placed to maximize the slow, unbearable bleed.

The metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air, suffocating, almost alive.

It was a torturous sight to watch.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

Oliver turned over to the mage of the team. She was the one missing eight fingers, her hands reduced to trembling stubs, blood pouring out in uneven pulses.

"Pardon?" he replied, his voice calm... too calm.

She let out a low, broken groan. "Why... are you hurting us?"

Oliver furrowed his brow, confusion flickering across his face. "Weren’t you the ones that chased me up a mountain to exact this exact type of torture on me? To force me to cough up every single Karma point and material I had?"

He tilted his head slightly.

"So when I do it... now it’s a pitiful story? Just because I’m a Top Ranker? Or the mighty, all-wondrous Crow?"

He let out a faint scoff.

"Let me tell you something people fail to understand... people aren’t the names they are given. To us humans, we aren’t even sure who we are. To some, we are nice. To others, we are proud. And to others... exposed."

He stepped forward and drove his foot into her gut.

A sharp, wet gasp escaped her lips as her body convulsed.

"But what differentiates us from cattle is our ideologies and our goals."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping.

"You are no different from a cow."

She trembled violently.

"One moment you want to kill me... and the next you plead for mercy."

He straightened.

"I, on the other hand, will kill you all nonetheless. That’s what separates cattle from men."

Oliver walked away from her and returned to his rock, sitting down as though settling into a quiet evening.

"Then... why not just kill us?" one of them muttered, his voice shaking between forced courage and raw fear. "Do you just want us to suffer? What about our Karma points... don’t you want them?"

Oliver slowly opened his palm.

In it appeared a small wooden pile, rough and ancient-looking, alongside a thin green dart that shimmered faintly under the dimming light.

He raised it slightly, just enough for them to see, or at least try to.

"Killing you would simply mean sending you back to respawn," he said casually. "But the effect of the Dreamless Dart... can convert your Life Points into pure regeneration."

A pause.

"No respawn."

"And ultimately... death. If I will it."

His words settled like a curse.

The fragile calm within the group shattered instantly.

They struggled.

Not out of defiance—but out of pure, instinctual terror.

They tried to push themselves up, muscles screaming, tendons tearing further against the nails embedded deep within bone and flesh.

But it was useless.

[Dreamless Cloak: Grants the user the ability to suppress the minds of beings lower level than the user. 10% learned]

Oliver glanced at the notification briefly before dismissing it.

His gaze returned to the Players.

To their suffering.

To their meaningless struggle.

In their minds, they were fighting—pulling, resisting, trying to tear themselves free.

But in reality...

They barely moved.

Just slight, pathetic wiggling.

’Pathetic.’

Oliver rested his cheek against his palm, watching them as one would watch insects struggle in a web.

Hours passed.

Hours of worthless effort.

Of silent screams.

Of bodies growing colder as blood continued to pool beneath them.

Before finally...

The leader spoke.

"Why... do you need us here?"

His voice was hollow now, his life force visibly thinning. His skin had grown pale, lips dry, eyes dim.

He wouldn’t last much longer.

Oliver turned to him, expression blank.

"There is a relic hidden within these mountains," he said. "Hard to find... and even harder to catch."

A slight pause.

"Because no one knows how to lure it."

Silence answered him.

So he continued.

"The relic is drawn to blood."

His gaze lowered slightly.

"Human blood... being the pinnacle of its appetite."

Realization dawned across their faces.

"So... you lured us out here..." the leader whispered, his voice cracking, "...to use us... to find a relic?"

Oliver said nothing.

"You are a monster."

Oliver chuckled softly.

"Monster?" he echoed, almost amused.

The word lingered in his mind.

It reminded him of something.

Of a time long gone.

Of the moment he died in his first life.

"Would it help if I said I was doing this for the good of humanity?" he asked lightly.

"Fuck you!" one of the more energetic Players roared, his voice hoarse but filled with rage. "How is any of this for humanity?!"

At that, Oliver frowned slightly.

"Resources spread between a thousand people can only do so much," he said calmly. "Being sentimental... indecisive about one’s goals... that only leads to dying unfulfilled."

His voice sharpened just a little.

"I want to save the world."

A pause.

"I really do."

His eyes darkened.

"That’s why I see humans as nothing more than tools."

He lifted a finger.

"A tool to trade with."

Another.

"A tool with money to cover my expenses."

Another.

"A tool I can use to gain more strength."

He exhaled slowly.

"That’s the true reality of the greatest associations in the world."

Oliver rose from where he sat and lifted his gaze toward the evening sky, now painted in deep crimson and fading gold.

"If you have lived as long as I have..." he muttered, "you would realize that all of you are nothing more than horrid flesh and bone."

His voice turned distant.

"In a few years... you will all be gone."

"Dead."

"Wasted."

"Such is the life of an Awakener."

He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, before continuing.

"So would you blame me... for putting your lives to good use?"

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Since I intend to stand... to the very ends of time."

Silence swallowed the mountain path.

Then—

"In all the lives I have lived..."

Oliver’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"My first... and my second..."

Then his eyes opened.

Cold and empty.

"In the end..." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"I am the one that gets to live."