Mike's pupils contracted sharply.
What was this?
He instinctively tried to close the strange interface, but his fingers refused to obey. His gaze was drawn to the option at the very bottom.
[Yes, I am willing.]
The option seemed like a bottomless whirlpool, exerting a deadly pull.
Was he willing?
Not far away, his teammates were still laughing and celebrating.
Roderick was showing the brand-new silver-white Tower Shield to Archer, both of them beaming with hope for the future. Mary twirled her new dagger deftly between her fingers, her smile sweet.
No one looked at him.
Why did all the glory belong to Roderick? Why did the best equipment go to him as a matter of course?
Why did Mike have to carry worn-out gear and take on the most dangerous work, only to stand in a corner and make do with the scraps of their victory?
It wasn't fair.
The world had never been fair.
The last trace of hesitation vanished from Mike's eyes, replaced by a wild look.
He jabbed his finger down on the option.
[Yes, I am willing.]
The dark green panel instantly dissolved into countless tiny runes. Like a swarm of insects scenting blood, they burrowed through his fingertip and into his body.
There was no surge of power as he had imagined, and no pain.
Mike simply felt his vision change in a strange way.
He could see the energy flowing inside the silver-white Tower Shield Roderick carried, the faint poison coating the dagger at Mary's waist, and the sharpness of every arrow in Archer's quiver.
He could even clearly sense each of their emotions: the joy of victory, the satisfaction of gaining new equipment.
Those emotions, those possessions, were like a lavish feast laid out before him, giving off