Talent Awakening! Every Legendary Summon Grants Me Assassin Attributes-Chapter 56: "Welcome back to the land of the living."

It was silent in the collapsed chasms of the Dark Castle. The smell of blood, debris, and an endless, suffocating darkness engulfed the air, thick and metallic, clinging to every breath like an unseen predator.

In that darkness was Oliver, lying against the cold, cracked surface of the hall’s wall. At the moment, he seemed to be out cold, his body barely moving, chest rising only faintly as though even breathing had become a burden.

And then... it slowly returned to him.

His mind. His control.

Oliver groaned, opening his eyes weakly, the pain from his earlier battles still taking a brutal toll on him. It wasn’t just pain, it was exhaustion carved into his bones, a deep, dragging fatigue that threatened to pull him back into the abyss.

He was tired.

Even more than that, he felt close to the edge, as though he was about to die.

Or already dead.

Beside him, the Dark Crow sat with its eyes closed in a subtle, eerie slumber, its presence unnervingly still, like a shadow pretending to rest.

Aside from that, there was a bonfire—its flames flickering softly, crackling in defiance against the suffocating darkness.

And it was definitely not the work of the Dark Crow.

At this, Oliver reacted, his gaze slowly dragging past the fire, vision still blurred at the edges, until he saw someone in the distance.

A man.

A skinny man.

Dressed in a black cloak, wearing a black hat, and holding a cane like he was some sort of magician.

Oliver doubted he was.

But something about his finesse... his charisma... told a different story entirely.

The man, noticing him awake, let his lips curl into a knowing smile as he turned and bowed toward Oliver, tilting his hat slightly in a gesture of unsettling respect.

"Well, well... look who finally decides to wake up," the man said, his voice slick and calm, like oil gliding over water.

At this, Oliver held his blank expression and waited.

He wanted to rise to his feet and face this man, to meet him head-on like he always did. But that was useless. His body was damaged beyond standing, every nerve screamed in protest at even the thought.

And the other man knew it.

That was why he was so casual.

’Right now... I am at his mercy.’

But instead of taking advantage of Oliver like any Player would do to another injured player...

This man swayed forward like he was performing an act.

With a smooth motion, he pulled his hat from his head and bowed, presenting the ominous darkness within it to Oliver as though unveiling a grand illusion.

"What do you think lies within the hat?"

Oliver frowned slightly, confused.

What warranted this all of a sudden?

Still, he did not react beyond speaking.

"I have no idea. How am I supposed to see into the damned hat?"

"Yes... no one can see through it," the man grinned. "However..."

He raised the hat as though to place it back on his head—

And then it... disappeared.

Gone.

From Oliver’s gaze.

From the man’s grasp.

And in the very next moment, the hat was within Oliver’s hand.

Cold.

Real.

Impossible.

"You can’t see through darkness," the man continued smoothly, "but nonetheless, we humans hold our darkness tightly in our grasp... and wear it over our heads as hats."

"Your point?" Oliver said, his voice strained but sharp.

"You wear the darkness... whereas I am the darkness, Oliver Mori."

The hat vanished from Oliver’s grasp once more, reappearing atop the man’s head as though it had never left.

"You passed out after the second knight. I helped your Crow defeat the last one, Mori," the man added, walking closer to the bonfire before casually taking a seat, as if this ruined battlefield were his personal stage.

"So you want to rob me, is that it?" Oliver asked, his voice slipping with killing intent despite his condition.

"No, no, no. That would be unbefitting—man to man," the man smiled faintly. "What I want is something else, Oliver Mori. Are you familiar with the word... the Admins?"

Oliver’s expression shifted slightly at that, his face tightening just enough to betray recognition.

But he remained silent.

He was definitely familiar with what the man referred to as the Admins.

Yet the thing that truly unsettled him wasn’t the mention itself—

’It’s the fact that I only heard about the Admins in my first life... not this one. So just who is this man?’

The man giggled softly, patting his side before speaking again.

"I see you have an idea of what I mean. An Admin is responsible for regulating a part of the game. We are what truly govern it."

"We?" Oliver repeated, his gaze sharpening despite his weakened state.

"Yes... we. Me, the Black Bitch, and a few others."

Now everything was starting to fall into place.

This man—this strange, theatrical figure who had saved his life—

Was an Admin.

That realization only brought more questions.

Why was he here?

Why save him?

Why even engage in this conversation?

Oliver exhaled slowly.

Curiosity won.

"Can I ask you something?"

The man tilted his head slightly... then nodded.

"Why are you here, then?" Oliver asked.

The man lingered for a moment, as if filtering through what he could say and what he couldn’t.

"Honestly... I first got curious when you were chosen by the scales... and mastered its power after you died and regressed."

His smile deepened slightly.

"To be honest, the scale once belonged to someone I know..."

"Another Admin?" Oliver cut in.

"I can’t say," the man replied bluntly.

Can’t... or won’t?

"Well, once you regressed, I kept an eye on you. But what truly prompted this meeting was when you caught the interest of that sexually deranged bitch... when you tricked your shadow... and more importantly—"

He chuckled darkly.

"You are one really sick, sadistic bastard."

"I’ll take that as a compliment," Oliver replied flatly. "So what do you want from me now?"

"Nothing... really," the man said, rising to his feet. "You’ve simply caught my interest. And maybe... if you conquer the Dark Castle... I’ll be inclined to tell you my true intentions."

Oliver tensed at that.

’His true intentions... what would an Admin want from me?’

"Until then, Oliver Mori..."

The man lifted his hat, then slowly lowered it back onto his head.

And then—

He disappeared.

Just like that.

Gone from existence as though he had never been there at all.

Oliver blinked a few times, his vision wavering, reality itself feeling unstable—

And then, as though he had been released from some strange trance...

His gaze refocused.

The environment was still the same—

Yet different.

Subtly.

Significantly.

He was by the bonfire.

And before him were Sasha and Isolde, sitting and playfully conversing with each other, their voices soft, grounding, real.

His gaze shifted again, searching.

Then he felt something on his head.

A gentle touch.

Oliver’s eyes slowly lifted—

And there she was.

Eva Montclair.

Her beautiful, worried face hovered above him as she carefully wiped the blood from his face with a damp cloth, her movements soft, deliberate, almost fragile.

The moment his eyes locked weakly onto hers...

Her worry melted.

Replaced by a bright, relieved smile.

And then she said—

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

***Author’s note***

The magician with the black hat, character image will be posted as a comment here.