The cavern is silent, but in my head, it is a symphony. The constant rumble of hunger has been replaced by a calm, powerful presence, a caged beast awaiting my orders. I feel Gluttony as an extension of my own will, an extra muscle I must now learn to control.
I am exhausted, drained, but my mind has never been clearer. I stand up, my body feeling both lighter and denser. The ritual has changed me on a fundamental level. I am no longer just a boy with a cursed skill. I am bound to a primordial force.
I look at the remnants of the Soul Ore. It is a precious resource. I gather it carefully into my sack. I will use it to restore my mana or for future enchantments, as my new analysis skill suggests.
My first thought is to test my new abilities on a living target. I leave my cavern and set out in search of prey. I quickly find what I'm looking for: a lone Otyugh, a repulsive Level 5 creature, wading through a sewage channel. It is a monster made of organic waste and tentacles, an abomination that feeds on the city's refuse.
Last time, I would have attacked it cautiously, using stealth. Now, I want to test something different. I position myself about ten meters away from it and focus. Analyze.
My interface fills with information.
Name: Sewer Otyugh
Level: 5
Status: Hungry
HP: 120/120
MP: 10/10
Skills:
[Infectious Claws (Active)]: Inflicts physical damage and has a chance to apply the [Disease] debuff.
[Strangling Tentacle (Active)]: Allows grappling and immobilizing a target.
Weaknesses: Fire, Piercing Attacks (central eye).
Essence: Organic, Corrupted. Low absorption potential. May cause undesirable side effects if devoured.
The amount of information is staggering. I no longer see a simple monster. I see a battle plan. Its weaknesses, its skills, the nature of its essence... everything is revealed to me. It is an incredible tactical advantage.
The absorption potential is low. It won't give me much. But it's perfect for a test.
The Otyugh spots me and charges, its tentacles writhing, its maw gaping.
I don't move. I wait for it. It is fast, but I am calmer. The moment it is upon me, I duck and roll to the side, avoiding its bulk. I get up behind it and strike with my dagger, aiming not to kill, but to wound, to create an opening. My blade sinks into one of its fleshy limbs.
It howls in pain and turns, furious. It strikes at me with a tentacle. I parry with my forearm, my Stone Skin skill absorbing part of the shock. The force of the impact pushes me back, but does not seriously injure me.
I know its weakness. The central eye. It is a small and difficult target to hit.
I do not seek a direct fight. I use the environment. I jump onto a pile of debris, gaining height. The Otyugh follows, trying to grab me with its tentacles. I dodge, forcing it to expose its eye.
I dive. My dagger aims for the center of its being. The blade sinks into the eyeball with a sickening, wet sound.
The creature spasms and collapses, dead.
You have defeated [Sewer Otyugh]!
60 XP
The fight was quick, clean, efficient, thanks to Analyze. Now, for the real test.
I approach the still-steaming corpse. I place my hand on it.
"Devour."
I speak the word in a low voice. It is the first command I have consciously given to my skill. The black energy erupts from my palm, far more powerful and controlled than when I absorbed Caelan's acolytes. The Otyugh's body dissolves in seconds, turning into particles of energy that are drawn into me.
The taste of its essence is foul. It's like swallowing mud and disease. My stomach clenches.
You have devoured the essence of [Sewer Otyugh].
Corrupted essence detected.
You have gained the temporary debuff [Nausea].
No skills were assimilated.
MP restored: +5
The nausea is an unpleasant but bearable side effect. I've restored some mana. The skill works. But the analysis's warning was correct. I must choose my meals more carefully. The quality of the essence is more important than the quantity.
Satisfied but a little queasy, I leave the sewers. I need to clean up and plan my next move.
My return to the surface coincides with an unusual commotion in the streets of Kryndal. Guards are running in all directions, town criers are shouting announcements at the crossroads. I move closer to listen.
"Notice to all adventurers! By royal decree, a Bronze-rank threat looms over the southern trade routes! A band of goblins, led by a Hobgoblin chief, is raiding caravans! A substantial reward is offered by the Merchant's Guild for the eradication of this menace!"
A Bronze-rank quest. Officially, it is beyond my reach. But unofficially... it is exactly what I was looking for. Goblins are easy prey. But a Hobgoblin... that's a Level 10 creature or higher. It is an intelligent being, a warrior. Its essence will be far richer than that of an Otyugh. And its martial skill... if I could assimilate it...
It's a risk. But I am no ordinary Steel rank. I am a Level 6 predator with an arsenal of unique skills.
I head to the Guild. The main hall is crowded and noisy. Groups of Bronze-ranked adventurers are forming, discussing the quest, forging alliances. I see their gazes full of greed and excitement.
I ignore the groups. This is a mission I must do alone. Sharing the reward or the experience is out of the question.
I go to see Lena. She is overwhelmed, but when she sees me, she frowns.
"Reinhardt. You have no business here. This is a Bronze-rank quest."
"I can do it," I say simply.
"No, you can't. The rules are the rules. You don't have the required rank."
"Then it's an unofficial quest," I retort. "I won't take the scroll. I'll go to the location, solve the problem, and bring back proof. The Guild can't refuse to pay a bounty if the job is done, can it?"
She looks at me, surprised by my audacity. She sees something in my eyes, a cold confidence she hadn't seen before. She sighs, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"You're a troublemaker, you know that? If you get yourself killed, I'll say I never saw you. But if you succeed... and that's a very big 'if'... you'll earn your way to Bronze rank faster than anyone before you." She leans over the counter. "The tribe has set up in the caves of the Howling Hills, a day's march to the south. The chief is a Hobgoblin named Grishnak. He's known for his massive axe and his cruelty. Be careful."
Giving me this information is her way of approving without breaking the rules.
"Thank you, Lena."
I leave the Guild, leaving behind the groups still debating the best strategy. They think as a team. They think in terms of a fair fight.
I, however, think like a predator. I am not going to fight a tribe. I am going to decapitate its leader.
I spend the rest of the day preparing. I buy rations, a new whetstone for my dagger, and a few empty vials. A Hobgoblin's blood could be a valuable ingredient.
As the sun sets, I leave Kryndal through the south gate. I am no longer a rat cleaning cellars. I am no longer a novice adventurer hunting goblins for a few copper pieces.
I am a bounty hunter.
And my target is a king.