Kaelvren's trial had begun. He found himself falling from the sky, the cold wind cutting through his bare skin like a blade. He plummeted toward the ground, his mind in panic, just thinking about the past.
"At this point, I should just introduce myself as 'Kaelvren, the Unluckiest Bastard Alive.'"
Every single day, his life couldn't go without some absurd twist of misfortune. It was almost a talent at this point.
"Maybe I accidentally insulted the Goddess of Luck in my past life. Or worse… maybe I dated her and broke her heart. That would explain a lot."
As he kept falling, he sighed.
"Some people are born with talent, others with wealth. Me? I was born with the exclusive, never-ending curse of cosmic misfortune."
The air whipped against his skin, his body picking up speed. His luck was truly something special.
"At this point, I'm convinced the universe has a VIP subscription just to watch me in misery."
Just as he braced for impact, his descent slowed unnaturally, and he landed with a thud—alive, but not exactly unscathed.
With that, a screen appeared in front of him. A crimson glow pulsed from its edges, the words forming as if written in his own blood.
« Seeker's Trial of Misery »
Description: Escape if you can.
Time Limit: Infinity.
Kaelvren stared at the ominous text, his heart sinking.
"Oh, fantastic. A game with no exit button. Just my luck."
Just as he braced for impact, his descent slowed unnaturally, and he landed with a heavy thud, spared from fatal injury.
For a brief moment, he lay there, stunned. Then, pain surged through his limbs, forcing a strained gasp from his lips. His body was unharmed, but the dull ache reminded him of his fragility.
As he took a breath, he scanned his surroundings. The air was thick with an eerie stillness. He was completely naked, standing in the middle of a dark, frigid night.
Then, he noticed something far more unsettling.
A grotesque sight stretched before him—a circle of civilization in ruins. Crumbled buildings stood like broken bones, their remnants scattered across the land. But beyond that was something even worse.
A mountain of corpses.
Monstrous bodies—Rank 2, 3, and even Rank 4 creatures—were piled atop one another, their twisted forms frozen in death. Blood had long since dried, leaving behind a landscape of decay and carnage.
A shiver ran down his spine.
"This… This is no ordinary place"
" Since this was no ordinary place, I had to move quickly.because Survival depends on finding a shelter, but the night was merciless, stretching on endlessly. And, as always, I was blessed by misfortune—nothing to protect myself, nowhere to hide."
I stumbled across a corpse, its skin still intact. But it was a monster's hide—thick, unyielding. No way I'm tearing through this with my bare hands. As a mere Lesser, I lacked the strength to even try.
I needed a weapon.
Frantically, I searched the ruins for anything useful, but luck—my eternal enemy—offered me nothing. Of course. With no other choice, I grabbed a sharp stone and struck it against another, chipping away at the edges until I had something usable.
Even then, cutting through the monster's flesh was agonizingly slow. The skin was tough, like hardened leather, and the stone blade was far from ideal. An hour passed. Then another. Sweat mixed with the cold rain as I painstakingly hacked and sliced, forcing myself to endure.
Finally.
"I found a sturdy stick and bound the sharpened stone to it, fashioning a crude spear. Then, using the monster's skin, I stitched together makeshift clothing—rough, barely holding together, but enough to shield myself from the freezing wind.
With my weapon in hand and my body now covered, I set out to find a place to rest.
But, as always, luck was never on my side."
The moment he took a step away from the ruined site, a chill rose in the air, whispers slithering from the shadows.
His heart stopped. His body tensed.
Emerging from the darkness, its form twisted and grotesque, was a Grave Stalker—a Rank 4 monster. Its presence alone made his limbs go numb, a suffocating aura pressing against his very soul.
Kaelvren's breath hitched. Cold sweat slid down his back.
Run.
Run, you son of a bitch. If that thing notices you, you're dead.
But his legs refused to move. His mind screamed, yet his body betrayed him, frozen in place like prey caught in a predator's gaze.
The monster inched closer. Its hollow, soulless eyes locked onto him.
It had found him.
Panic surged, gripping his chest like an iron vice. His thoughts spiraled into chaos.
Is this it? Is this how I die?
I swear, I must be the unluckiest descendant of a—
He couldn't even finish the thought before the monster took another step forward.
He yelled.
No—he refused to die. Not here. Not like this.
Even if the monster before him was a Rank 4 Grave Stalker, even if it was leagues beyond his strength, he wouldn't just accept death.
But then… he noticed something.
The creature was different from what he had expected. Deep gashes marred its body, blackened blood oozing from its wounds. Its breath was ragged, its movements sluggish.
It was on the brink of collapse.
If even a twig struck it now, it might just keel over and die.
Kaelvren's fear dulled.
It was replaced by greed.
Even though his eyes burned with greed at the thought of claiming something valuable from the Rank 4 corpse, Kaelvren didn't rush in recklessly.
He waited.
An hour crawled by—each passing second stretching into eternity. His muscles ached from staying still, his breath shallow as he watched the dying creature. The Grave Stalker lay motionless, its body shuddering with every ragged breath. It was barely clinging to life, its strength drained, its existence hanging by a thread.
This was his chance.
Summoning every ounce of strength left in his weary body, Kaelvren lunged. His makeshift spear drove into the creature's back, the crude weapon shattering upon impact. Yet, despite breaking apart, the jagged stone tip plunged deep enough to pierce the monster's heart.
The Grave Stalker let out a final, bloodcurdling shriek, its hollow eyes widening in agony. A violent tremor wracked its broken form, its breath hitching in one last struggle.
Then—silence.
The monster collapsed.
With that, a sharp DING! echoed in his mind.
A mechanical voice—cold and emotionless—resounded within him.
[You have slain a harbinger Grave stalker.]
All the soul fragments you will have accumulated will be calculated at the end of the trial.
Kaelvren's breath became ragged, his chest rising and falling in exhaustion. He had done it. He had actually killed a Rank 4 monster.
But before he could even process his victory, something unexpected happened.
Before he could catch his breath, the voice echoed once more.
DING!
> [You have obtained a Utility-Type Artifact.]
Kaelvren's exhausted mind barely processed the words. His gaze shifted toward the monster's corpse, where a faint, eerie glow emerged from within. The air around it shimmered, coalescing into a dark, pulsating shape.
A artifact.
He hesitated for a moment before reaching out. As his fingers brushed against the ominous object, a cold sensation crawled up his arm. The relic materialized in his grasp—a pair of dark, sinister-looking shackles.
Their surface was engraved with ominous symbols, and the metal felt unnaturally heavy, almost as if it carried a presence of its own. The chains writhed subtly, as though alive, waiting for their next victim.
Kaelvren's eyes narrowed as he examined them.
Kaelvren's gaze remained fixated on the artifact. With that, he uttered a word, "Nexus."
A holographic screen popped up before him, illuminating the darkness with a cold, blue glow.
---
Name: Griefshackles
Rank: Harbingers (Rank 4)
Type: Utility-Type (Shackle)
---
[Description]
"Once wielded by a great warrior to bind a demon of calamity, the Griefshackles have since fallen into a dormant state. The rusted chains carry the remnants of an ancient curse, causing agony to those ensnared. Though its full power remains sealed, its binding and weakening effects persist."
---
Effects:
Curse: Gradually drains the strength of the bound target, inducing pain and weakening resistance. The longer the target remains shackled, the stronger the effect.
Binding: Once attached, the shackles cannot be removed by normal physical force. The more the target struggles, the tighter the chains become.
---
[Usage & Effects]
1. Restraining Opponents:
When thrown, the shackles seek out the nearest target within a 10-meter radius and attempt to bind them. If latched onto a limb, the movement of that limb is severely restricted. If bound around the torso, the target's entire body movement slows down significantly.
2. Weaken & Debilitate:
Targets suffer progressive strength loss, making their attacks weaker the longer they remain shackled. Pain and fatigue increase over time, reducing mobility and combat effectiveness.
3. Escape & Limitations:
The shackles automatically release after 30 seconds in their current sealed state. Struggling against the binding causes the chains to constrict faster, making escape even harder. The artifact's true potential is locked, but it may evolve when Kaelvren becomes stronger.
[Dissonance]
Limited Duration: The shackles only last 30 seconds before automatically releasing.
Cannot Bind Large Creatures: The artifact struggles to restrain creatures that exceed a certain size or strength threshold.
Sealed Power: The true abilities of the Griefshackles are locked, making them far weaker than their original state.
Single Target: The shackles can only bind one enemy at a time in their current form.
Cooldown Period: After use, they take several minutes before they can be activated again.
[Unable to Use: Due to its wielder need to at least an achiever that is why the relic is currently sealed for the trial end.]
---
Kaelvren's expression darkened as he read the last line. His eye twitched.
"What the hell?" he muttered. His fingers clenched around the relic, veins bulging against his skin.
His breathing turned ragged as the realization hit him.
"I can't use it?"
A surge of frustration erupted within him, boiling over as he threw the relic onto the lifeless corpse of the Grave Stalker.
"Why the hell can't I use it, huh!?" he shouted, his voice echoing through the ruins. "Fucking why!? Why is it always me!?"
His misfortune always seemed to strike at the worst possible moments. Every single time. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he gritted his teeth.
"Why can't I just be lucky for once!? Even for a goddamn hour!"
In his anger, he kicked a small rock.
The tiny stone ricocheted off a larger boulder—then bounced back.
THUD.
It smacked him square in the forehead.
Kaelvren froze, his body stiff. His eye twitched harder.
As if fate itself was mocking his misery.
Kaelvren's face twisted, his expression caught between rage and the urge to cry. His eyes burned, but he held it in, his breath unsteady.
His mind raced, searching for a solution—anything that could salvage this mess.
What should I do now?
But no matter how hard he tried to think, there was only a single word echoing in his head.
Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.