Pitch-black darkness enveloped Philippe; not a single ray of light pierced his eyes. He opened them and rubbed them, trying to convince himself he was awake. Suddenly, he froze, stunned in disbelief at the sight before him. Once more, he rubbed his eyes, but the scene remained unchanged.
Ten rifthounds hovered in the air, staring straight at him. Philippe was surrounded! His mind raced in an instant: Why am I here?
He remembered running toward the light of a crowd, only for it to vanish abruptly. Something must have blocked it. What was it? A realization struck him: It was a dimensional gate! One of the rifthounds had transported him to this place!
The conclusion made sense, but it offered no relief. His situation hadn't improved in the slightest.
He was still trapped in their circle!
All at once, the rifthounds growled in unison and lunged at him, slashing with their claws. Philippe scrambled to his feet and dodged with all his strength. He twisted his body to evade an attack from behind, leaped reflexively to avoid a strike from the side, and dropped to the ground, rolling to escape a frontal assault.
Philippe couldn't think logically or rationally. His head felt like it might burst from the desperate strain of searching for a way out of this life-or-death crisis. Covered in dirt, he rose quickly, fearing that even a moment's hesitation could cost him his life.
He spun around, dodging another strike, and slipped between two rifthounds blocking his escape from the encirclement. As a result, one rifthound's attack struck the face of its companion. Yet the wounded rifthound seemed unbothered. Instead, it immediately turned its attention back to Philippe and attacked again.
Philippe dodged, the blow narrowly missing him, the gust of wind from it ruffling his hair. He stepped back twice, then turned and ran. This is my chance! I have to find a hiding spot—now!
His energy, already drained from his earlier panicked dash toward the lighted crowd, left him exhausted and on the verge of collapse. But this was a dire emergency; he forced himself to push beyond his limits. He had to survive!
While running, Philippe spotted a large rock. He dashed toward it and hid behind it, pressing his back against its cold surface. He let out a long, shuddering breath—the longest exhale of his life.
Yet peace remained out of reach. He needed to find a way to escape this seemingly hopeless predicament. Suddenly, Philippe's eyes widened as if recalling something vital. The system!
He remembered the system and the notification he'd received before arriving here. He had just gained a skill! Back then, he hadn't had time to check it. Now was the perfect moment. He quickly opened the skill menu and read the description of his newly acquired ability.
In that instant, he stared blankly, mouth agape, but no sound came out.
"Impossible…"
[ ACTIVE SKILL ]
[ Eclipse Soul: Mythic Rarity ]
[ Absorbs and uses the skills/memories of defeated enemies for a limited time. Each use summons an alter-ego, a manifestation of the defeated foe. This alter-ego has a conflicting personality (e.g., if the original user is patient, the alter-ego is impatient). The more it's used, the stronger the alter-ego becomes, potentially taking temporary control of the body. The user loses some of their own memories each time the alter-ego appears. ]
Reading the skill's description filled Philippe with disappointment and despair. He was truly at a dead end. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and gazed up at the dark sky.
He opened his mouth. "Maybe I should just die…"
Slap! The sharp sound of a slap rang out. Philippe struck both sides of his face hard, then shook his head fiercely.
At that moment, the rifthounds, alerted by the noise, charged toward his hiding spot. One of them slipped into a dimension and appeared abruptly in front of him. Startled, Philippe leaped up and tried to flee. But at the wrong time and in the wrong direction, another rifthound was already waiting in his path. He turned, only to find yet another rifthound guarding the way, poised to strike.
The rifthound in front raised its claw toward him. Philippe, still too dazed to think quickly, had no time to plan an evasion. The attack hit him.
Agony seared through him as the stone claw struck, as if his hand were being burned alive. He screamed and grimaced. The rifthound behind him didn't hesitate; it attacked instantly, raking its claws across his back. The burning pain forced another scream from his lips.
Philippe staggered forward, desperate to escape. But ahead, more rifthounds were closing in, drawn by his cries. He was surrounded once again.
Philippe collapsed to the ground, looked up, and laughed hysterically. "Ahahaha… AHAHAHAHA!" Tears streamed down his face as he closed his eyes.
At that moment, the sound of stone clashing against stone echoed sharply. He opened his eyes and gaped in shock. The sight before him was so unbelievable that he rubbed his eyes repeatedly.
Yet the scene held firm: one rifthound was attacking another!
That rifthound slashed at the head of another about to strike him. The struck rifthound recoiled briefly, shook its wolf-like stone head, then turned its gaze to the aggressor. The other rifthounds joined in, as if the lone rifthound had become their collective enemy.
One by one, they lunged, the rest following suit. Philippe stood transfixed, too stunned to realize he should be fleeing this bizarre turn of events. But the targeted rifthound didn't last long. Under the relentless assault of nine others, it was left on the brink of death.
The gravely wounded rifthound suddenly staggered toward Philippe. He had no time to react, only able to stare as it nearly crashed into him. But a stone claw from another rifthound struck the dying one's head, redirecting its fall.
Philippe knew with certainty: that rifthound was dying.
In that instant, all the rifthounds turned their eyes toward him, as if the one they'd fought was no longer of interest—a discarded toy. Now, Philippe was their plaything. They advanced on him as one.
Philippe, resigned to his fate, closed his eyes. But then, whether by sudden inspiration or something else, a solution flashed in his mind: Eclipse Soul! He recalled the skill, which required a defeated enemy. But could an enemy killed by another count?
He had to try!
Philippe thrust his right hand toward the dying rifthound beside him. A shadow emerged, as if pulled by his touch. His expression shifted wildly—panic one moment, uproarious laughter the next as if the scene were hilarious, even jumping in elation. Then his face settled back to normal.
Eclipse Soul!
Instantly, his mind flooded with hazy memories: a pack of ordinary wolves that had somehow become rifthounds for reasons unknown. A silhouette of a human appeared, its face obscured, but most vividly, it reached out over the rifthound's head. The memory shifted to the rifthound's perspective—attacking his room and bringing him here. Then it cut off abruptly.
Philippe's eyes and mouth flew open, but he had no time to scream.
It worked!
He had successfully activated Eclipse Soul!
When Philippe came to, every rifthound encircling him was poised to strike. A mere second from death, he squeezed his eyes shut. A fierce wind blasted toward him.
Then, a dimensional rift tore open nearby, and Philippe was yanked inside.
He had used the skill stolen from the corpse!
He had escaped death!
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