Kael's breathing was uneven, fatigue racked his body from where several blows had landed moments before, but his mind remained focused. He sidestepped as the bandit swung downward, cleaving into the wooden floor where he had just been standing. The man's swings were uncontrolled, driven only by rage and need, yet they were filled with enough power to take Kael's life with one misplay.
He was getting closer to the dagger, a mere step back and he would be able to reach it—his heart raced with intensity as anytime he would glance over to the dagger, and back at the man. Kael would have to endure. Would have to survive … for long enough.
The bandit let out another wild roar and swung again. Kael ducked, feeling the rush of wind as the blade barely missed his head. The man stumbled a little, his balance gone. He wasn't as quick as before.
Kael could see it instantly.
The man's powerful swings had begun and were slowing down. The breath had become labored, the body sluggish. The deep gash on his back was taking its toll, adrenaline was no longer sufficient. The bandit teetered for a moment, the sword shaking in his grip as blood seeped from his wounds onto the dirt floor.
'Now… just a little closer…'
Kael sidestepped another erratic slash, his heart pounding as he inched toward the dagger. He needed one chance—one opening—to end this.
And then, he saw it.
The bandit mistimed his swing, slicing through empty space before losing his footing for a moment too long—that's when Kael leapt at the man.
His hands shot past the bandit's guard and the last ounce of strength in Kael's bruised body flung his fingers into the massive wound on the bandit's shoulder.
The air was filled with an ear-splitting scream.
The bandit jerked back, his body convulsing under the white-hot sensations of total agony. He dropped his weapon and his entire body began to shake as he hit the ground, squirming in pain.
But Kael didn't let go.
His fingers dug deeper into the wound and felt the ripped flesh against his skin as he sunk deeper into the muscle with his hands. The screams of the bandit devolved into a rasp, his voice broke as he writhed around, frantically fighting the grip of Kael.
But Kael did not let go, grinding his teeth, and focusing on the pain felt in his own hands, overwhelmed by resolute intention.
He would not let this man stand again.
Eventually, the brigand's strength failed, his body slouching downward into the dirt, his motions rendered weak and pathetic jerks. He breathed heavy, stared vacantly, the anger replaced by simple, undeniable fear.
Kael released the man and stepped away, his heavy chest rising and falling with large breaths. His hands were warm and wet with blood, the redness splattering across his fingers.
He then looked down at the dagger on the ground.
Kael twisted in his body, barely avoiding another wild slash. The man's strikes were losing accuracy and were beginning to be slow and unmeasured. The man swung his edge with less and less force with every strike, but the erratic and determined behavior remained as dangerous as ever.
Kael's breath came in jagged gasps, and his body shook from fatigue. The man's strikes were unrelenting and wild, such that Kael could predict no discernible rhythm. But with every swing of desperation and rage, Kael saw it—his swings were getting slower.
The man's body was losing overwhelming strength with every moment spent swinging a blade.
Kael twisted his body, once again narrowly avoiding a downward slash as his feet scratched dirt and kicked up dust during a roll sideways, narrowly missing the blade.
He was getting closer.
Closer to his dagger.
Kael stepped back again, his eyes sharp, watching, waiting. The man's movements were slowing. His breath came in ragged gasps. The bleeding wound in his shoulder was sapping his strength. Each second that passed, the difference between them grew more apparent.
And then Kael saw his opening.
The bandit swung wide—too wide. His balance wavered for just a moment, his foot dragging against the ground. That was all Kael needed.
He pushed ahead, dodging the man's defenses, and with every ounce of strength, he once again shoved his fingers into the exposed wound on his shoulder.
"ARGHHH!"
The man's scream was unbearable. A painful rush traveled down his nerves, and his whole body jerked. Kael twisted vigorously, noticing the warm, slick flesh giving way under his grip.
The bandit fell to the ground screaming while squirming, slowly shifting from like a pig, and emaciated wounded cattle. The man jerked and pulled against the ground as his body writhed with agony.
Kael wasted no time.
He bent and fixed his fingers around the familiar grip of the dagger. He took in a deep breath and steadied his grip, as the cool steel was a relief in his hand.
He felt the man start to groan, and the man's vision started to flitter before his eyes.
His body felt so heavy at this moment. A breath became a good, and each second was pulling him away from the grave.
'No…'
His mind was a complete muddle of thoughts and ideas battered and broken by the pain and insidious numbing.
He could hardly organize what had even just happened. Once so full of strength and vigor, his hands barely moved. His legs felt like they didn't belong to him.'Is this… how it ends?'
Regret dug into his chest, co-mingling with the sharp prick of pain. He was supposed to live. To plunder. To take what he wanted. To enjoy himself. Yet now, he lay here, broken and bleeding, his life slipping away second by second.
He thought of the power he could have had. The things he could have done.
'If only…'
His fingers twitched, his breath rattled in his throat. Darkness edged at the corners of his vision.
Then, in one final, shuddering breath, his body stilled.
The bandit was dead.
Kael breathed out, moving back, holding on to the dagger tight. He stood over the corpse for an amount of time, watching, waiting, making sure.
Then, there was nothing else to do.
Kael stood over the body, breathing slowly and evenly. The blood-slick dagger he held felt heavier, somehow.
All of his body ached, wounds screaming with protest, but none of that mattered now.
The fighting was over. And the hunger called through it all.
IIt was an odd feeling, one that beat down deep within him. It wasn't simply hunger in the physical sense; it was something different. A pull. A scratch at the back of his mind that urged him to move forward.
Kael knelt beside the body, placing a bloody hand on the man's chest.
Then, he used devour.
[Skill Devour activated]
The moment he activated the skill, the familiar sensation rushed through him. A dark force coiled around the body, tendrils of something unseen sinking into flesh, pulling—ripping.
The bandit's essence poured into him.
Strength. Vitality. A portion of the man's life forsesurged into his being, filling the gaps where his own exhaustion had taken root. His wounds didn't heal completely, but the fatigue, the sluggishness in his limbs, eased.
And yet… something was missing.
The soul.
Kael could feel it. Unlike with the boy from before, the soul did not come to him. It resisted, slipping past his grasp like water through his fingers.
But something was wrong. The soul did not come to him. He could feel it, lingering just beyond reach, like a wisp of smoke slipping through his fingers. No matter how much he pulled, it resisted, unraveling into nothingness before he could claim it.
He clenched his jaw.
'So that time… was special.'
Back then, he had taken everything. Body, strength… and soul. But now, as he devoured this corpse, he realized—it wasn't something he could do at will. It wasn't something he could replicate so easily.
'Why?'
The question lingered in his mind, a puzzle with missing pieces. Was it the boy himself? Was it something different about his soul? Or was there another condition—one he hadn't understood yet?
Uncertainty filled him for a moment, and just as quickly, a new feeling emerged within him.
When Kael consumed the last traces of the bandit, he was already feeling familiar, a rush of taken vitality, could feel his instincts sharpening.
Then the system notifications began to flow in his mind.
Kael's gaze lingered on the system notifications for a moment before shifting to his status window. A small, flickering mark caught his attention—one he had ignored in the heat of battle.
With a thought, he willed it open.
[Skill: Devour level has increased.]
[Skill: Sneak level has increased.]
[New Skill Acquired: Dagger Arts Novice .(Passive)]
[Your level has increased by +3]
Kael exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around the dagger.
He frowned slightly, his fingers tightening around the dagger.
A familiar structure. A system he had seen before.
Kael knew exactly how this worked. Every skill had mastery levels that dictated its effectiveness and growth potential.
Novice → The starting stage. Basic proficiency, rough execution.
Apprentice → More control, less wasted movement, noticeable improvement.
Adept → Solid proficiency. Skills become more refined, efficiency increases.
Expert → Mastery deepens, unlocking advanced techniques and better precision.
Master → A true specialist in the skill. Techniques are near flawless.
Grandmaster → Beyond standard mastery. Capable of things most can't even comprehend.
Transcendent → The pinnacle. The skill becomes something beyond human limits.
Kael exhaled, already knowing the next part. Reaching the higher stages wouldn't be as simple as grinding endlessly.
'From Adept onward, the mastery criteria will increase. The system won't just hand me progress for repeating the same thing over and over. I'll need to push the skill to its limits, use it in ways that challenge its core, or find new methods to refine it further.'