The green light cast everything in a sickly hue. The stone beneath his feet was smooth and cold. Water dripped in the distance, echoing in the depths of the prison.
Noctis's body ached. His throat was bruised. His face throbbed where the Hollow had struck him.
He needed a core to create his first Skill. That meant he had to kill another Remnant.
'I just hope it's not one of the Profane Class.'
Although... preferably, Noctis wanted to find another gap that, with a higher-ranked Remnant or a more dangerous Class, could kill him in one breath. He looked at the broken sword in his hand.
Now he had a path ahead of him, terrible and dangerous, but a path nonetheless.
He just had to find a point of return. Easy, right? Pretty easy in this prison infested with Remnants.
Noctis shook his head slightly and continued searching for his next prey.
To his left, the corridor ended in collapsed rubble. To his right, it stretched into darkness, dotted with more cells. And, of course, more holes.
Noctis turned right and began walking.
The grinding noises grew louder.
The first cell he passed was empty. The second contained a Hollow that stood motionless before the wall. The third was completely collapsed.
The fourth contained two Hollows.
They turned toward him as he approached, their empty sockets following his movement with impossible precision.
Noctis swallowed hard, but he didn't run; if he ran, he would turn his back on his..., and he didn't want to imagine what would happen to him. Instead, he gripped the worn hilt of the broken sword tightly.
...And he waited.
The two Hollows broke through the bars of his cell simultaneously. The metal screeched and bent like paper.
They advanced together, spreading out to flank him.
Noctis slowly backed away, his back against the wall. His mind was racing.
'Two at once. I can't let them surround me. Take one out quickly, then the other.'
The Hollow on his left was the first to lunge.
Noctis pulled away with difficulty and swung the broken blade down onto the outstretched arm. The sword severed the limb at the elbow.
The Hollow did not slow down.
The remaining hand closed around his throat.
The air disappeared.
He wasn't in the training hall.
There was no polished floor. No instructor was watching. There were no healers ready to intervene if something went wrong.
Here... no one was going to stop the fight.
No one was going to say "enough."
He ducked on pure instinct and rammed his shoulder into it. He felt hollow bones crunch under the impact.
The second Hollow attacked from the right.
Noctis spun around and raised his sword defensively. His clawed fingers scratched the blade; the impact nearly wrenched it from his hand.
He held on. He brought the broken sword up under Hollow's chin.
The blade pierced the gray skin and lodged itself in what appeared to be a skull. The creature convulsed once and then lay still.
[You have killed a Corrupt Spawn, Hollow]
The other Hollow, the one with the missing arm, had recovered.
It rushes toward him in a staggering burst, with that screeching sound that grows louder until it reaches a crescendo.
Noctis had no time to think.
He thrust his sword forward.
The broken blade struck the Hollow in the chest, piercing his ribs. The momentum dragged them backward until the Hollow's back hit the wall.
Noctis leaned into the sword and drove it deeper.
The monster's hand closed around his arm. The grip was brutal. He felt his bone protest.
He screamed.
Not out of fear... but out of rage.
He swung his sword.
Something inside the Hollow snapped with a sharp crack.
The body went limp.
[You have killed a Corrupt Spawn, Hollow]
[You have reached level 1]
Noctis staggered backward, clutching his arm. Pain radiated from where the Hollow had grabbed him: it wasn't broken, but badly bruised.
He crawled to the wall, his face contorted with pain. Where the hell was he?
'Kill three monsters to level up... Damn it! Will I survive this place?'
He struggled to his feet and approached the two Remnants; with one hand, he began to dissect them, enduring the pain throughout his body.
He looked at the two crystals and picked them up with trembling hands.
[You have obtained a Core from a Corrupt Spawn, Hollow]
[You have obtained a Core from a Corrupt Spawn, Hollow]
Three cores.
It seemed that risking his life had been worth it; this was more than enough to create his first Skill.
But Noctis didn't stop to create a skill. Not there. Not in the open hallway, where anything could attack while he was vulnerable.
First, he needed to find a defensible location.
He continued walking down the hallway, moving as quietly as possible.
More cells. More Hollows. Most remained in their cages, unable or unwilling to free themselves. Some wandered down the hallway, and Noctis gave them plenty of space.
If they wanted to, they could go as far away as possible, and he wouldn't complain in the slightest; on the contrary, he would be happy.
Then he found him.
A cell unlike the others.
The door was intact, but unlocked. Inside, the space was larger, perhaps six by six meters. In the corner was a stone bench, and on it lay a skeleton still wearing the shattered remains of armor.
A guard, perhaps. Or a prisoner who had earned better accommodations.
Noctis entered cautiously and closed the door. But not completely; if something tried to get in, it would alert him.
He approached the skeleton.
The armor was beyond repair: rusted in some places, completely missing in others. But the bones were curiously pristine, as if preserved by the Abyss itself.
In the skeleton's lap lay a small diary, its pages yellowed but legible.
Noctis picked it up carefully and opened it to the first page.
The text was in a language he had studied: Latin.
Day 187:
The leader is dead. The guards are dead. Most of the prisoners are dead.
Or a failed experiment. The Guardian was always conducting experiments.
I've barricaded myself in the old warehouse. The door is thick. It should hold.
It has to hold.
Day 203:
I ran out of food three days ago. Water four days before that.
I don't need water. It just... exists.
Why do I still need those things?
Noctis read what was legible, because most of it had been ruined by the passage of time. However, he noticed something extremely important.
According to the diary, there were no food supplies... apart from the Remnants roaming around the prison.
'It looks like I'll have to eat those hollows to survive.'
He didn't like that idea one bit: going from eating five-star chef dishes to eating dried meat from a hole.
...His situation was very ironic.
Noctis shook his head and continued reading.
Day 220:
I tried to leave. I made it to the second level.
There are hundreds of them up there. Maybe thousands.
This whole prison is a tomb!!!
I'm not leaving, am I?
I'm going to die in this cell.
Just like everyone else.
The entries ended there.
Noctis looked back at the skeleton.
The guard—or whoever he might have been—had survived almost two hundred and fifty days in this prison, alone, slowly starving to death.
And then he died in this cell, waiting for a rescue that never came.
Noctis carefully put down the diary and sat down on the stone bench, as far away from the skeleton as possible.
His body ached. His arm throbbed. His throat was still sore from being strangled.
But he was alive.
And he had three cores.
With a long sigh and a smile on his lips, he opened his status runes.
Name: Noctis Vale.
Race: Human.
Class: Classless [None].
Rank: F
Level: 1
Items: [Tear-Stained Blade]
Strength: 8 | Dexterity: 7 | Constitution: 8 | Mana: 5
Attribute Points: 5
Skill: [Skill Creation].
Skill Description: [When you defeat a Remnant, you obtain a Core. Cores contain the essence and affinity of the defeated Remnant. By consuming two or more Cores, you can create a completely new Skill].
Skill Slots: 0/3
Available Cores: 3
Flaw: —
It's time to see what [Skill Creation] really means.
He concentrated on the runes in his vision.
Noctis hesitated.
Two cores would create something weaker, but leave him with only one. Three cores would create something stronger, but use up everything he had.
He thought about the fight with those two Hollows. How hard-fought it had been. How much he had needed every advantage.
He selected [3 cores].
A new text appeared.
[Conditions met: the unique skill "Skill Creation" has been activated]
[Creating Skill... Analyzing Affinities: Shadow. Synthesizing...]
The world split apart.
Noctis fell to his knees without even understanding why. It wasn't physical pain. It wasn't like a wound or a burn.
It was something deeper.
As if an invisible hand had entered his chest... and ripped out something that had no name.
He didn't scream at first.
The sound came out late, muffled, animalistic.
His vision was filled with black static. His heartbeat echoed in his skull. Every thought fragmented before it could form.
It wasn't physical pain, but something deeper, as if a part of him was being torn out and reshaped.
He gasped, doubling over. The sensation of heat only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.
When it passed, a new text filled Noctis's vision.
[The Skill has been created...]
[Skill created: Shadow Strike]
Skill description: [Penetrates the target's defense and strikes the target directly.]
Noctis remained on his knees, breathing heavily and feeling a strange detachment from everything, which puzzled him.
'Why don't I feel anything?'
Then the voice of the Abyss echoed in his mind:
[The Law of the Chain is activated. All power comes at a price; you have been granted a flaw...]
[Liturgy of the Broken Soul.]