Absolute Cheater - Chapter 549
Capítulo 549: Anomaly II
Asher watched closely.
“You’re not the mastermind,” he said. “But you’re closer than the last one.”
He drew his sword slowly.
“This time,” Asher said, stepping out of the shadows, “I’m not stopping at the tool.”
The person froze.
Then turned around.
The person turned slowly.
He was a man in his late thirties, wearing layered robes reinforced with light armor plates. Thin soul conduits ran from his gloves into the frame behind him. His face was tense, but not shocked.
“So,” the man said, “you found this one too.”
Asher stopped a few steps away. “You knew someone would.”
The man glanced at the construct, then back at Asher. “Not this fast.”
Asher kept his sword low but ready. “Who are you working for?”
The man hesitated.
Asher didn’t move. He didn’t rush. The pressure alone was enough.
“…A collector,” the man said finally. “That’s all I know.”
Asher frowned. “Not a name.”
“He doesn’t give one,” the man replied. “We don’t meet him. We just deliver.”
“Deliver what?” Asher asked.
“Soul fragments,” the man said. “Clean ones. Taken before death. High quality.”
Asher’s eyes hardened. “And you thought that made it acceptable?”
The man laughed nervously. “You don’t understand. This isn’t murder. The bodies die later anyway. We just take what would be lost.”
Asher took one step forward.
“Wrong,” he said. “You stole them.”
The man backed up slightly. “Wait. I’m just a handler. I don’t control the constructs. I don’t even know where the fragments go.”
Asher tilted his head. “Then you won’t mind if I check.”
He raised his hand.
“Soul lock.”
The man screamed as the connection snapped open. Information rushed through—routes, relay points, encoded signals, and a single repeating mark burned deep into the network.
A symbol.
Asher saw it clearly.
“…So that’s you,” he said quietly.
The man collapsed to his knees, gasping. “You’ll die for this. He doesn’t forgive interference.”
Asher looked down at him. “Neither do I.”
He turned and slashed once.
The blade cut cleanly through the conduits and the relay frame behind the man. The construct shattered, crystal breaking apart as the soul flow collapsed.
The camp went dark.
Asher sheathed his sword and looked toward the horizon.
“I have your trail now,” he said. “And this time, it leads somewhere real.”
He turned away from the ruined camp and disappeared into the night, already moving toward the next step of the hunt.
Asher moved through the forest without slowing.
The symbol stayed clear in his mind. It wasn’t just a mark. It was a locator, repeated the same way across every relay the handler had used.
“Careless,” Asher said.
That meant confidence. Or distance.
By dawn, he reached a ridge overlooking a narrow valley. Below it sat a small settlement that didn’t appear on any official route maps. No banners. No guards at the road. Too quiet for a trading stop.
Asher watched for a few minutes.
People moved in patterns. Supplies went in. Nothing came out.
“That’s it,” he said.
He didn’t walk down the main path. He circled wide, staying low, then approached from the back where the terrain dropped sharply.
Behind the settlement was a sealed stone structure built into the cliff. Old. Reinforced. Hidden under illusion work that wouldn’t fool anyone looking directly at it.
Asher placed his hand against the stone.
The same pull responded.
Stronger now.
“You’re gathering fast,” he said.
He pushed soul pressure into the door. The illusion collapsed instantly. The stone cracked, then slid open with a low grind.
Inside, the air was cold and sterile.
Rows of containment frames lined the walls. Each one held a dim fragment, sealed in crystal housing. Hundreds of them.
Asher’s jaw tightened.
“This isn’t collecting,” he said. “It’s farming.”
A voice echoed from deeper inside.
“You’re early.”
Asher turned toward the sound.
A tall figure stepped into the light. His face was hidden behind a smooth mask marked with the same symbol Asher had seen. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t connected to any external construct.
Everything was internal.
“You destroyed my handlers,” the figure said calmly. “That was inefficient.”
Asher raised his sword. “You won’t need them anymore.”
The masked man tilted his head slightly. “You really think this ends here?”
Asher didn’t answer.
He stepped forward.
The masked man moved first.
He raised one hand, and the air around him tightened. The soul pressure was controlled, focused, nothing wasted.
Asher felt it and adjusted his stance.
“So you’re not hiding behind tools,” Asher said. “Good.”
The masked man stepped forward. “I don’t need them.”
He struck without warning. A thin blade of condensed soul energy shot toward Asher’s neck.
Asher deflected it with his sword. The impact rang through the chamber, sharp and clean.
“Fast,” Asher said.
The masked man attacked again, this time in close range. His movements were precise, trained. Every strike aimed to disable, not waste strength.
Asher blocked, stepped inside the range, and kicked low.
The masked man jumped back, barely avoiding it.
“You’re different from the others,” the masked man said. “Your soul isn’t leaking at all.”
Asher didn’t respond. He pressed forward.
Their weapons clashed again. Steel against condensed soul force. The containment frames rattled from the shock.
Asher drove the masked man back step by step.
“You rely on control,” Asher said. “But you don’t understand ownership.”
He released a thin layer of soul pressure. Not overwhelming. Just enough.
The masked man stiffened.
“…That token,” he said slowly. “You met him.”
Asher struck hard. The blow shattered the soul blade and sent the masked man sliding across the floor.
Asher followed immediately.
The masked man rolled, slammed his palm into the ground, and activated the chamber.
The containment frames lit up.
Hundreds of fragments pulsed at once.
Asher stopped.
“You’re going to burn them,” he said flatly.
“They’re resources,” the masked man replied. “If I lose them, so do you.”
Asher’s eyes narrowed.
“No,” he said. “You already lost.”
He raised his hand.
The death token reacted.
The chamber temperature dropped instantly. The soul fragments stopped pulsing, frozen in place, locked by authority far above the masked man’s control.
The masked man staggered. “What—”
Asher closed the distance in one step.
The sword went through the mask and into the core beneath.
The masked man froze.
Asher leaned close. “Collectors don’t get second chances.”
He twisted the blade.
The body went limp.
The symbol on the mask cracked and faded.
Asher pulled his sword free and turned to the containment frames.
He released the locks carefully, one by one, letting the fragments disperse naturally.
The chamber grew quiet.
When he finished, Asher walked out of the structure as the sun rose higher over the valley.
“This trail ends here,” he said.
But he already knew it wouldn’t be the last.