God-Tier Extraction Talent: Reincarnated in a Game-like World! Chapter 534: The Origin of Black Star

Gabriel remained frozen for several seconds, his gaze locked onto the path the boy had disappeared down. He momentarily questioned if the memory fragment had fractured, perhaps a glitch in the scene, wondering if the image of the young king looking at him was merely a visual anomaly, depicting an event that never occurred.

However, this thought quickly dissipated as Gabriel advanced towards Torin and Aston. Stopping directly before the young Torin, he received no acknowledgment. Gabriel raised his hand, waving it once in front of the young man’s face, yet still no reaction manifested. Aston, stepping forward to collect a fragment of the slain beast’s horn, passed straight through Gabriel’s form as if he were non-existent.

A slight frown creased Gabriel’s brow as he looked down at himself.

"So, it wasn't the memory causing the issue."

He turned his head back toward the direction the young boy had taken. His outward composure remained, but a newfound seriousness settled in his eyes. If Torin and Aston were incapable of sensing his presence even when standing directly before them, then the young king had either genuinely perceived him or had somehow looked through the memory itself.

Such a notion seemed illogical.

If this had been the king’s personal memory, Gabriel might have found it somewhat plausible. But this was Torin’s memory, meaning the king should have been nothing more than a figure within another person's recollection.

After a period of silence, Gabriel exhaled slowly.

"Or perhaps he simply glanced in that direction, and I happened to be standing there," he murmured, though even as he voiced the possibility, his conviction wavered.

The young king’s eyes had met his with far too much clarity. It hadn’t felt arbitrary, nor did it seem like mere coincidence.

Before Gabriel could delve further into contemplation, the surrounding scene began to transform.

The fractured earth, the deceased beast, and the youthful apparitions of the two men started to blur. Colors elongated, sounds receded, and the memory advanced as if pages were being turned with excessive speed.

Once everything stabilized, Gabriel found himself situated within Stellar City.

This time, the two individuals depicted were noticeably older.

Not elderly, but beyond their teenage years. Both were clad in Valerian military attire, their postures more erect and their physiques more robust than previously observed. Aston exuded seriousness and discipline, while Torin presented a calmer demeanor than Gabriel had anticipated from the future leader of Black Star.

Judging by the manner in which the surrounding soldiers regarded them, both men had already attained significant status. As top captains within the kingdom, they were clearly on a trajectory toward becoming generals. Their names carried weight in this place; their commands were executed with promptness, and the soldiers nearby maintained a more attentive stance in their presence.

The memory transitioned once more.

Torin was now visible inside a modest dwelling. The room emanated warmth, furnished with neat wooden pieces, neatly folded garments, and a small table positioned near the window. A woman stood nearby, a gentle smile gracing her features, while a young boy playfully darted around Torin’s legs, his laughter echoing as Torin feigned inability to catch him.

Gabriel observed the scene in quiet contemplation.

This was an aspect of Torin he had never foreseen.

The man who would later command Black Star, hunt players across worlds, and ultimately immolate himself rather than betray a secret, had once lived such a life. He possessed a wife. He had a son. He inhabited a home untainted by the scent of blood or subterfuge.

The scene shifted again.

This instance placed Torin outside the city gates, engaged in conversation with a group of individuals who were clearly not natives of this world. Players. Yet, a subtle distinction set them apart. Their attire, their responses, and their mode of speech alerted Gabriel to the fact that they were not players from Earth.

They hailed from another world entirely.

A parallel universe.

Gabriel recalled a detail from his initial transmigration: certain inhabitants of this world had made mention of “otherworlders” previously, a term that had struck him as peculiar at the time. Now, it began to make more sense.

The inhabitants of Earth were not the inaugural group.

They represented the second wave.

Torin handed a pouch to one of the players, offering counsel in a patient tone.

"Ensure the herbs are returned before dusk. The southern route is frequented by beasts, so avoid traveling alone."

One player, visibly taken aback by the offered compensation, inquired, "You’re offering this much for a simple herb-gathering quest?"

Torin lightly dismissed his surprise. "If you are risking your life, the compensation should be commensurate."

A collective smile spread across the players' faces.

Gabriel watched this exchange, a peculiar expression dawning on his features.

Torin’s generosity was evident.

It wasn't a pretense; he wasn't treating the players as expendable pawns. Based on the players' reactions, he must have been a highly regarded figure in the city during that era—someone players sought out frequently and trusted for equitable rewards.

Gabriel’s expression grew more contemplative.

"What transpired to cause such a downfall?"

The instant this thought surfaced, the memory shifted once more.

This time, the interior of the house was plunged into silence.

Gabriel stood within the previously warm dwelling, but the comforting ambiance was absent. The table lay shattered. A chair had been overturned. A dark stain marred the wooden floorboards near the room’s center.

Torin’s wife was there, lifeless, and his son lay not far from her.

Within the confines of the house, a group of players deliberated amongst themselves, their gazes occasionally flicking towards the quest prompts displayed before them.

"Target neutralized," one declared, adding, "Both of them."

Another player exhaled, their voice tinged with relief. "Let's hope this NPC's payment is generous. That was more challenging than anticipated."

A third individual, a woman, furrowed her brow slightly as she glanced at the fallen NPC. "This… feels a bit unsettling."

The first player scoffed, their tone dismissive. "They're just NPCs. Stop being so dramatic."

From their exchanges, Gabriel began to piece together the unfolding situation.

At that precise moment, the doorway swung open, and Torin entered.

For several long seconds, an absolute stillness permeated the room.

All eyes shifted towards Torin. One of the players swiftly brought their weapon to bear, remarking, "Oh, look. Another one."

Torin remained silent, his gaze sweeping from his wife to his son. His expression didn't immediately contort into one of madness; rather, it became utterly vacant.

It was a profound sorrow that rendered a person incapable of any reaction, as if their entire inner world had frozen.

One player stepped forward, issuing a command: "If he makes a move to attack, eliminate him as well."

Torin's hand moved. The ensuing events became a blur, not due to any failing on Gabriel's part to follow, but because the speed of the violence was simply too overwhelming. Blood spattered the walls. Bodies crumpled to the ground. Screams erupted within the small dwelling, only to be silenced one by one.

By the time the memory stabilized, every single player lay dead.

Torin stood motionless in the center of the room, drenched in blood, his breaths ragged, his eyes unfocused, staring at nothing.

That night, his retribution did not cease with the players responsible for his family's demise.

The memory sequence accelerated, depicting Torin dispatching players in shadowy alleyways outside the city and even lying in wait at the designated respawn point.

Players shrieked, cursed, and pleaded, their desperate attempts to respawn only leading to their immediate demise once more. He hunted them relentlessly until their character levels plummeted and their hard-earned items disintegrated. He pursued them until the game itself became unplayable for everyone associated with the group that had shattered his world.

He began to rally those who had also suffered loss at the hands of these 'otherworlders'. He meticulously trained assassins who would eventually execute his grand plan to eradicate all such interlopers.

The previous wave of players grew so terrified of his name that entire guilds would abandon areas rumored to be haunts of Torin and his burgeoning organization.

This was the genesis of the Black Star.

It was not born from mere animosity towards players. Its roots lay in profound grief, burning anger, and the stark realization that these 'otherworlders' could perpetrate such heinous acts within their world, all while believing they were merely fulfilling a quest objective.