On the run…
Charles suddenly realized something and said aloud, "I get it!"
"Blessings develop abilities based on your inner desires. Refresh effects follow a similar logic!"
"It's hard to awaken new abilities from scratch, but changing skills based on your wishes is much easier!"
The first is creation out of nothing, but the latter is just a redistribution of experience points.
"My desire to survive just now outweighed everything else, so I developed the ability to lock my health and save my life! Luck only decides the quality of the skill."
This revelation gave Charles newfound confidence about the future.
"At least I can decide the prize pool for the skill draw. Whether it's R or SSR depends on luck alone!"
Having figured this out, Charles stopped to catch his breath.
…
But then the downside hit him: the reduced durability.
His body felt heavier, while footsteps behind him grew louder.
Turning around, he saw the two pursuers less than ten meters away.
"We can't waste energy. This ends now!"
Charles pulled the scarlet dagger from his arm, spun around, and stood his ground.
"What? You stinky rat, not running anymore?"
"Haha, you're trapped!"
The two men slowed, like cats toying with their prey, brandishing swords and creeping closer with grins.
In the dim corridor, Charles lifted his chin. The azure fluorite's afterglow lit his face, emphasizing his eyes full of malice. A faint smile curved his lips—he had caught them.
"You think you've got me?"
"What else?"
One white-robed man sneered, stepping forward until only six meters separated them.
Five meters...
Four meters...
"Why don't we decide who's hunter, and who's prey?"
Charles leaned in. Just as the man accelerated, Charles stomped with his right foot and leaped at him.
The man's pupils dilated, brows raised in excitement. He blocked the flying knee with one hand and swung his sword hard.
Sizzle—
Warm blood stained the white robe, splattering across the man's face, making him tremble.
That feeling—the slow death unfolding before your eyes.
Boom—
Charles was hit in the face by metal.
"Hee ha… ga… uh uh uh…"
He tried to laugh but only strange sounds emerged.
Charles wasn't cut in two, but a large slash on his chest bled freely.
Behind him, the warmth of grace flared.
The passive ability of Go Wherever You Want had triggered!
Immune to knockback and control, his strength surged beyond limits.
Taking advantage of the pause in midair, Charles swung the money bag with one hand to strike, while the other crossed the safe distance to slash the man's throat with the cursed red dagger.
"Hey… what are you doing?!"
The other white-robed man split Charles in half with a sword, then kicked his wound.
Puff—
Charles spat a mouthful of blood in the attacker's face before crashing into the rock wall.
Landing, Charles rolled sideways. With blood blinding his opponent, he slashed the man's femoral artery.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, soaking the floor fast.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
The man pulled out a high-grade elixir, doused his wound, but the bleeding didn't stop. He stared at Charles in disbelief.
Charles bared blood-stained teeth in a wicked grin: "Useless. This knife carries an incurable curse—you won't survive!"
"You… lunatic! You lunatic!"
The man hauled Charles up and pummeled his face repeatedly.
He never imagined this little devil could be so ruthless, willing to exchange his life for theirs.
"Hahaha... the harder you hit, the more blood flows…" Charles taunted.
"Feeling dizzy yet?"
"Come on, hit me more!"
Charles collapsed to the ground, clutching his cursed dagger as the man vented rage.
After four brutal minutes, the man collapsed exhausted on top of Charles, who pushed him off and began cutting his throat bit by bit.
Until the last breath, the man never expected the stabbed, nearly disemboweled devil could keep fighting.
But he never got the chance to know why.
…
After dispatching the two pursuers, Charles collapsed clutching his stomach, writhing in agony.
"Shhhhhh… ohhh… it hurts! It hurts so much!"
Though Go Wherever You Want exempted him from most negative effects, and Crispy College Student granted combat endurance, the pain from nearly being cut in half was unbearable.
Yet the skill's immunity prevented Charles from fainting.
"No wonder… Mundo went crazy…"
He grabbed a blood-made alchemical potion from the ground, flushed his intestines with its liquid, and stuffed them back inside.
Leaning against the wall, he waited for the potion to take effect.
Time passed, heat spread through his body. He looked down at his chest—his flesh was moving, ribs realigning, dirt and sand squeezed from the wound.
In just five minutes, all his wounds healed.
"Hahahahahaha—"
The torment vanished, Charles raised his arms, covered his eyes, and laughed.
Tears pricked at his eyes.
His enemies were roughly level 1C—too weak, so weak they had to rely on injury-for-injury dirty tricks, curses, and attrition to kill.
He had no idea how many battles like this awaited.
Weakness lasts moments; pain fuels madness.
Charles gripped his dagger tight, picked up the purse tossed as a sandbag, and looked down the passage again.
This time, he held power to resist.
"No one can stop me! I want to live! To live freer and more comfortably than anyone else!"
With fierce resolve, he wrapped his purse, looted the bag, donned the white robe of the Dark Faction, and stepped boldly onto the battlefield.
"Ready to die, scumbags?"