Jules Gailen slept during the day and traveled by night, following a thin dusty dirt road he had stumbled onto that ran alongside the forest. He would befriend travelers that camped during the night, then slit their throats while they slept, draining their blood where it flowed most freely, and feeling that delicious rush of alacrity and strength that accompanied each kill.

He was a , and like his Class implied, he felt no guilt for his crimes, if anything the unlawful element of his sins made them even more irresistible.

He could feel his baseline physical abilities permanently growing a little each time the surge washed over him, and he leveled after every other kill now.

With eight murders to his name, including that idiot , four levels in his new Class under his belt, and the and Talents, he arrived after a while in the small town of Lakeside.

It was called such because it abutted the King’s Lake, or Kingslake as it was often contracted into, and was, as one would think, a fishing town. As the sun set, illuminating the lake and sky in beautiful, bright hues, Jules slunk into town, not wanting to attract the attention of the local . He hadn’t killed in over a day, and the had already faded from him.

His shiny new tingled at the base of his skull as he spotted a homeless man, beard overgrown, body withered by hard circumstances, lying in an ally, covered by a musty blanket, shielded from the wind by carefully assembled nearby garbage bins.

Looking around furtively, Jules crept closer, drawing his knife from out of his coat and reaching down. The act was quick and painless for the victim-- he had to not make too much ruckus until he got stronger, his thinking went.

He hid the body among the trash, and as he’d gotten used to, any trace of blood on him vanished after the deed was finished.

That was how his spree began.

Level 15!

Talent — earned!