My Skill Creation System

Linda Ross POV.

Life has been nothing but a bitter disappointment for me, filled with hatred, chaos, and rage.

I was exposed to these destructive forces from a young age, and I have come to accept them as my only source of understanding.

My parents? I never truly felt their presence in my life. I was raised in an environment of loathing and sorrowful memories, shrouded in a dark, oppressive atmosphere.

My mother never showed me any attention or kindness; she was overwhelmed by her own distress, struggling to endure the torment my father inflicted upon her.

My father? He was the epitome of gloominess, an oppressive and tyrannical man who had total control over everyone. He was a despot who took pleasure in inflicting pain, not only on my mother but me too.

The night my mother passed away, I overheard them arguing, as was the norm. I often ponder if this is just how life is. Her piercing screams that night were the last I ever heard, a sound that followed her as she fell to her death. At last, the pain was gone, and my mother found peace in her silence.

My life felt a bit more carefree then; my father was rarely around. Those days, I experienced a sense of liberty. When he did come home, he'd usually be accompanied by young women, who would depart in the morning with their clothing disheveled.

One day, he brought a woman who was unlike the others. When I saw her, I felt a deep, motherly yearning. Her lips curved into a peculiar yet reassuring gesture as she greeted me – what was that sensation? It filled me with a gentle warmth inside.

"Hi, Linda," she said as she gently caressed my cheek with her soft, warm hand.

They discussed marriage, and I couldn't help but wonder if that meant I was going to have a new mother. But why was I feeling something that I had never experienced before coming from this woman?

Soon enough, they were married, and the woman brought a son with her. He seemed to be in a state of deep despair, and I wanted more than anything to help him get away from it.

"Marco...Don't you want to come out of your room and play?" I would often tease him and try to pull him away from the darkness. For some reason, the presence of a brother and mother in my life made me feel oddly content.

Marco came to my aid when I stumbled while scaling the fence. "You're being foolish," he muttered with a hint of malice in his voice.

"Why would you speak to me like that, even though you're the foolish one, Marco!" I retorted.

He warned me to leave him be, but he still brings me meals when I forget to eat.

"Hey, stupid girl," Marco said sarcastically, "don't leave your meal. You're only giving me trouble because my mom will scold me if you don't eat."

"Hey, Marco," I replied, "I'm not stupid and I'm not leaving my food. It's just that you don't like it when your mom scolds you, so stop trying to make me the scapegoat."

Will I ever have a better life after this?

At least, that's what I thought before. Unfortunately, I experienced the same thing in my own house.

Every night, and all those nights after, I heard them arguing, an argument that went on for weeks and months.

I didn't want to lose my mother anymore, or would it be better if my father left? Was there a chance I could find a better father to replace him?

The solution was obvious to me: I had to get rid of my father. His presence in my life loomed like a thunderous storm cloud, and his cries were silenced with a single plunge of the knife into his stomach.

"Linda!" My father exclaimed as he stumbled forward, his body beginning to go limp. His face was a mask of shock and confusion as he slumped to the ground, covered in his own blood.

That night felt like a darkly beautiful dream come true. Was this really happening? Had I really just taken this man's life? A wave of joy surged through my veins as I soaked in my newfound liberty.

"Linda, my darling," my mother murmured, squeezing me close. "Don't be afraid; I'm here, and I will do my best to keep you safe."

However, another disaster soon followed. My mother admitted to the wrongdoings I had committed and was condemned to death for the accusations she faced.

I had no purpose left. Following in Marco's footsteps, I had only found another foolish man. We were taken in by Bas, a city lord of South Lake, someone with enough influence and wealth, yet I still never felt him as part of my life.

I had trained myself to fight and kill, and that was often the only thing that kept me going.

After I became a Hunter, my passion for fighting was reignited from nowhere. I relished the challenge of battling monsters and sometimes other Hunters – especially when I heard their screams of terror as I thrust my sword into their shoulders before beheading them in front of me.

"Lunatic girl!" Marco muttered beside me.

"At least I'm not as scared as you are, Marco!" I retorted sharply.

Marco headed off to the academy, so I went on doing dungeon hunting, quickly raising my level. I had an affinity with two elements - like God was giving me the tools to fulfill my desires.

But then, one day, out of the blue, that stupid Bas locked me up in a basement prison. I raged, pounded on the cell doors, yelled, and cursed, but there was nothing I could do.

Bas would periodically send me men, their expressions leering and salacious, and upon seeing me, they would immediately start unbuttoning their pants.

I gave them a chance to approach me before I seized their necks and tightened my grip, making my fingers dig deep into their skin and drawing blood.

This went on for a while for no apparent reason.

Sometimes I had to exert more effort to kill off certain men that tried to approach me. But eventually, I killed them all.

This repeatedly occurs, with no indication of when it will cease. I feel like I'm in a living nightmare, with no clues as to when I'll be freed. "I'm in hell," I groan despairingly.

One fateful night, a mysterious figure showed up in the darkness. Was this a dream?

"I am here to rescue you," he said.

He was like a prince from my dreams, and I quickly realized that he was not just my imagination. He had rescued me from the darkness, even going so far as to slay the guards, giving me a renewed sense of hope.

I desperately yearned for him to understand the immense importance he had for me. He was a brave and noble hero who never hesitated to face any challenge. He was always willing to aid those he cared for and showed me the same kindness. His might and bravery had an awe-inspiring aura.

Will he have to endure the same struggles and hardships that my family has faced? Will he experience the same pain because of my present? I sincerely wish that he never has to go through such misery.

I trailed behind him, determined to fulfill my promise to heed his every request. He was the only man with such a generous heart I had ever encountered in my life. He was the protagonist of the story, destined to become a great leader and bring about a revolution.

I was certain that my journey would be enjoyable if I stayed with him, and I was right. I had a blast slaying monsters and taking on hordes of enemies - something I loved doing.

I went to such extreme lengths that I took some people's lives merely for my own pleasure. Unfortunately, the killings I had perpetrated brought even more calamity to us, to him.

Muramoto's death filled him with profound grief. He grieved for his beloved friend who had been taken away from him. And, it was due to my depraved pleasure in slaughtering others. As a consequence of my wickedness, he had to suffer the consequences.

"Muramoto!" His eyes filled with tears as he called out to Muramoto, his voice heavy with emotion, a mix of anger, sorrow, and regret.

The whole mess was because of me. I had promised to keep him company and do whatever he wished, trying to make him feel good with the little things I could do for him.

But what have I done? I brought destruction to someone I considered a friend.

"It was my mistake." I wanted to make it clear that I was the one to blame, not anyone else.

He had to suffer the consequences of my foolishness. This was an immense mistake I had made. I shouldn't have taken such foolish risks for enjoyment when in the end, those I cared about were the ones who had to pay for my actions.

I'm unsure of how to proceed; all I feel is rage.

[Only those who have tasted the bitter flavor of extreme wrath can comprehend the significance of having patience.

[Patience is a virtue, and you are its devoted apostle!]

A strange, unexpected scene presented itself before me, accompanied by an unusual screen.

[Linda Ross]

[Patience Meter: -55%]

"What the heck is this?" I fumed in frustration, my rage reaching an exponential level. A euphoric sensation of fury engulfed me, and I found myself reveling in the emotion.

[Patience Meter: -75%]

All I felt was anger; I didn't know what it was directed at or why it had taken over my body, but it was intense. I felt like I had to release it and could no longer contain it.

"I'm wrathful!" I declared.