The Chasm Dweller [part 2]

[You have been slain by a Major Blighted, Chasm Dweller]

[You have died]

[Devourer is devouring your death]

[Your body grows stronger]

[You have gained a passive ability]

Auren wasn't sure of anything anymore. At this point, everything blurred into pain. A clawed foot stomped into his belly, forcing the air from his lungs. Agony burst through him—a world of pain condensed into a singular moment, yet stretching into eternity. It felt like he had been shredded into a thousand pieces, yet some cruel force kept him alive to suffer through it.

He had died. Again.

The moment his senses returned, he noticed something stark—a realization that came after his third death.

Dying wasn't getting easier.

Each time he died, it became harder to let go, more painful to endure. His body resisted death as if adapting, evolving against it. But there was a boon.

Each time he resurrected, his strength surged, his body refreshed. It wasn't dramatic, just a slight difference—but enough for him to feel it. Enough to prove that whatever the voice had declared wasn't a fluke.

His deaths were being consumed, fueling him.

Auren exhaled, his breath shallow. He felt reinvigorated, but he didn't move. Not yet. He remained on the ground, limbs lax, resisting the urge to rise. The Cursed creature must have believed him dead. That brief moment of reprieve—he needed it.

Then, there was the ability.

He could sense it. It wasn't something easily explained, but he felt it the way instructors once described Blessings—an intrinsic awareness of power. Normally, one had to visit a temple, to explore the details of their abilities through the Archon's runes.

Yet, he didn't need a temple.

He was still in his first trial. He shouldn't have been able to grasp his ability to this extent. But then again… he wasn't Blessed. He was Cursed. The conventional rules likely didn't apply to him.

Maybe not all of them, anyway.

The moment he thought about the ability, runes shimmered into existence in front of him.

But there was no time to explore them.

The ground trembled. Footsteps—heavy, deliberate. Auren felt the vibrations through the darkness. The Cursed creature was coming for him again.

He moved.

Rolling onto his side, he snatched up his sword from the dirt and lunged to his feet. The motion flowed almost too smoothly, exactly as he had envisioned.

He was faster. Stronger.

Standing twenty meters away from the grotesque monstrosity, Auren's heart pounded against his ribs. He glanced down. Before his death, his belly had been split wide open, his intestines spilling out. Now, his skin was whole again—pale, smooth, unblemished.

A miracle.

But if he didn't focus, that miracle would be short-lived.

The creature dragged itself toward him once more, its presence radiating malice.

Auren's grip tightened on his sword. He fixed his glare on the monster.

'Things have taken a more drastic turn than I expected. As it turns out, I'm not just fighting a Tainted but a Blight—and a major one at that. Winning isn't an option right now, but with what I have, I can create more chances to escape.'

Both hands clenched around the hilt of his sword, his knuckles taut. His gaze, sharp and piercing, cut through the shrouding darkness with uncanny clarity.

The creature, now ten meters away, suddenly lunged.

It hurled its body forward with amazing speed, its long claws slicing through the air as it drove toward him with ruthless intent.

Auren moved.

His parry was clean, his footwork measured. He sidestepped with precision, his instincts keeping him just ahead of death. But the cursed abomination wasn't just fighting—it was hunting.

The moment he shifted to the side, another claw came from an unexpected angle.

Auren twisted, his blade rising in defense. But it wasn't enough.

A brutal impact sent his hand reeling back, his fingers almost losing their grip. The creature's claw raked across his body.

Or so he thought.

What followed wasn't the expected agony of flesh being torn open—no gaping wound, no spilling entrails. Instead—

Clang!

Sparks exploded.

Auren tumbled into the heaps of bone, his body rolling across jagged remains. Pain flared through him—but not the kind he expected.

His hands trembled. He stared down at his chest, expecting a deep, fatal wound.

Instead, there was only a shallow scratch.

Metal. His skin had turned into metal.

For a moment, he blinked in disbelief. Then, realization struck.

The attack should have torn through him. Should have split him open like a cracked shell.

But it hadn't.

His body… had changed.

The moment the monster's claws neared his skin, it had hardened—morphing into a metallic surface. The creature's strength still sent him sprawling, but the damage? Minimal.

Auren's fingers traced the thin wound across his torso, watching as crimson blood dripped slowly.

'Oh? Have I gained a metallic body?'

Indeed. He had gained a metallic body. One that only revealed itself when a weapon sought his blood.

And somehow, it had saved him from the luxury of dying a fourth time.

But it wasn't flawless.

It lacked the raw resilience of the monster's own grotesque hide, but it was essentially the same.

'Maybe one day, I can make it stronger.'

Maybe, in time, his body would become impervious—unyielding, untouchable.

But that was for the future.

The present—

The ground-dweller was coming for him again, hungering for another kill.

Auren needed to act. Fast.

His mind raced, analyzing every possibility.

His sword was useless against the creature's hide. His strength couldn't overpower it.

And yet—

He shared the same hide with the monster, a resilience woven into his flesh. But the creature had still managed to carve through him. Not fatally, but enough.

Auren felt like he was closing in on something—on its weakness.

Its jagged spikes.

If he could rip one from its body and wield it as a weapon, the tide of battle might shift.

The creature's skin was sheathed in black armor, but he refused to believe every inch of it was impenetrable. There had to be a gap. A flaw.

Unfortunately, he had no time to study his own new metallic body, nor did he have the luxury to analyze the ground-dweller's.

But one thing was certain.

A weapon that could bite into its metallic skin would change everything.

Auren wasn't prone to delusions, but he could be greedy.

'Maybe… just maybe… I could win this?'