"The bloodline is becoming even more restless," Adam sat on the bed, yet felt as though he had entered another world.
The computer by the bedside played music, and if one listened closely, the voices of people he had known in his past life could be heard. In the distance, a television broadcasted a news report about a car that mysteriously vanished from a busy street.
Pulling the covers back, he sat on the edge of the bed, putting on his clothes and shoes. "Adam" crawled out from beneath the bed, shouting that this was his bed.
Shadows crawled along the skylight, watching him through the window. As Adam opened the door, the bodies of bandits lay across the stairs, their blood cascading like a waterfall down to the lower floors.
Stepping over the mountain of corpses and the sea of blood, Adam ignored the inappropriate scenes to his side, grabbed a bowl of soup from the table, and ate the pickled vegetable pancake. Behind him, a white-furred werewolf and a priest were locked in a furious battle.
Adam greeted Alice and Maggie with a calm demeanor, desperately suppressing the urge to recall things he should not.
"Yesterday, I found a nice spot with beautiful scenery. I plan to go there for some sketching, just painting the view," Adam casually explained, offering the excuse he had prepared.
"If I practice a little more, I should be able to study with Master Alva tomorrow," Adam continued, trying to sound relaxed.
After a brief pause, Adam added, "It's a bit remote, so I may not return tonight. I might have to find a place to stay nearby, so don't worry."
"Really? Should I pack you some food? I could make you some pickled meat," Maggie nodded, a hint of concern in her voice.
"I'll just take some pickled vegetable pancakes," Adam smiled, shaking his head. "I haven't been much help around the house lately."
"We're family; don't say that."
"Here, take this, Adam." The usually taciturn Alice pulled a small cloth pouch from his waist, pulled out some money, and spoke in a more casual tone, "You'll need supplies for your painting, and you might need to offer something to the household you're staying with."
"Thank you, Uncle," Adam replied after a brief moment of silence, taking the money.
"Are you leaving, Brother Adam?" Lina, still groggy from sleep, came down from the second floor and ran to him, pressing herself against his leg, rolling back and forth. "You haven't played with me in so long."
"Next time," Adam ruffled her hair, helping her stand. "I have important things to do."
"Okay, good luck, Adam!" Lina pressed her head against Adam's hand, unwilling to part with him.
Adam picked up some pickled vegetable pancakes, found a large wooden board in Alice's workshop, and smoothed it down before leaving the house. He glanced back at the Kubos' residence but didn't give it another thought.
Suppressing the restlessness of his bloodline and the various illusions swirling around him, Adam bought some brushes, paints, and fine cloth before heading toward the river.
Though there were people collecting water, the area was relatively quiet, not far from the slums, and it was easy to reach the forest from the riverbank.
While Adam suspected the forest might conceal a noble smuggling route, the forest was vast. Even if there was a disturbance, the smugglers might not intervene; they might even help cover it up.
Adam carried a stone to the riverbank and sat on it, placing the board on his lap and setting the canvas atop it. He felt an unexpected surge of inspiration to paint.
Surrounded by illusions, memories surged in waves, but Adam chose not to resist them. Instead, he allowed the desire to paint to merge with the images in his mind.
As the brush touched the canvas, Adam did not follow any established painting techniques, unsure even of what he was creating.
The world around him became increasingly strange until a figure began to materialize on the canvas.
"Nesser, will you forsake the glory of the gods?" The figure's face remained indistinct, but he held a sword and stood at a distance, quietly watching Adam.
Adam paused, raising his head to meet the figure's gaze. Without hesitation, he answered, "Yes!"
As Adam spoke, the figure's face became clearer, and he raised his sword, pointing it directly at Adam's head. The voice, once distant, now became sharply real: "I will find you."
With that, the illusion vanished entirely. Adam's hand moved, but he did not lower his brush, continuing to paint on the canvas.
Yet inside, Adam was far from calm: Could even the illusions created by my perception be influenced by him?
"My position is likely exposed," Adam thought as he put down the final stroke. The painting was nearly dry and fully formed.
At first glance, the painting seemed simple, but on closer inspection, the colors subtly shifted. The entire composition was surreal and eerie—the sky, the river, the trees, and the wild grass took on strange forms, yet the viewer could still recognize the scene.
What did not surprise Adam was that the subject of the painting was himself. He had long been aware of his own nature—he was an incredibly selfish person. If he were to paint something unrelated to his interests, it would most likely be himself.
In the painting, Adam stood beneath the shadow of a tree, his hand resting on the trunk. The colors were dominated by white, but the shadows behind him filled the entire canvas, becoming the most prominent feature.
The longer one looked, the more unsettling the painting became, its strangeness creeping under the skin and evoking a deep sense of unease.
Adam smiled softly. Naturally, this painting, created in the midst of his bloodline's restlessness and his many illusions, would appear increasingly abnormal to anyone who viewed it.
He stood, placing the painting on the stone, and then noticed that the sun was slowly setting. As the evening light bathed the sky in warm hues, the moon had already risen on the opposite side.
Adam walked to the riverbank, removed his shoes, and dipped his feet into the water, moving them back and forth.
He ate the pancake, his body trembling slightly as the blood within him raged like a wild beast.
The area had grown nearly deserted; no one would be coming for water anymore, yet others had arrived with different motives.
It was Gold, still dressed in his loose clothing. He bent down, picking up the painting from the stone, and sneered. "What kind of nonsense is this?"
"Wow, isn't this Nesser Riggs?" Gold's tone was mockingly exaggerated, as if just now realizing who Adam was.
Adam's face darkened. The worst-case scenario had occurred. He fought to suppress his raging emotions, trying to formulate a plan as his body trembled from the restless bloodline.
"Alright, maybe I exaggerated a bit," Gold scratched his cheek nonchalantly.
Then, abandoning the mockery, his blood-red eyes fixed on Adam, and his voice turned deadly serious: "Show me your abilities, or I'll kill you."
A terrifying killing intent surged from Gold, his immense black smoke rising behind him, his presence reaching a pinnacle of power.
Still trying to formulate a solution, Adam stopped trembling. His body reacted before his mind, and he swung a punch directly at Gold's face.
"Roar~~" The enormous fist struck Gold's face, and Adam raised his other fist. His body grew taller, his shirt tearing apart as waves of white fur erupted from his skin. His mouth elongated, releasing a furious roar.
The other raised fist transformed into a massive claw, swiping down at Gold's stunned body. But instead of striking, it only dispersed a large cloud of black smoke between its fingers.
Gold had already appeared on the other side of the river. One hand loosened his clothing, while the other rubbed his face, speaking in a garbled voice, "Your transformation is sloppy. Your strike technique is off. That punch was at least eighty percent weaker."
Adam leaped forward, crossing the river in a single bound, howling as he landed, his speed increasing as he charged toward Gold, his hands reaching for him.
"Too much force," Gold said as he ducked under Adam's arm, criticizing him, then, in the blink of an eye, his body shifted into werewolf form.
"Come chase me!" With that, Gold turned and sped toward the forest, his body a blur of black smoke in the bright moonlight, the shape too fast to catch, before he leapt into the woods.
Adam, in pursuit, flashed past, leaving deep claw marks in the trees.
The primal self within Adam stirred more than ever before. Slowly, it merged with his ego, and at that moment, they shared a singular purpose—to defeat Gold.
With their shared intent, the boundary between the ego and the primal self nearly vanished. Adam no longer felt any gap in his control over his body.
In that moment, his perception unlocked, and vast amounts of information flooded his mind. The moonlit forest, once serene, had now become a battlefield.