Chapter 6: Poison and Power
Kane gripped his dagger, eyes locked on the chaos ahead. troll and a wyrm thrashed in the forest clearing—claws smashing, fangs snapping, a mess of blood and roars. The troll, big ugly slabs of gray muscle, swung wild fists. The wyrm, all scales and speed, hissed and bit back. Kane smirked, ready to jump in. He'd take 'em down and cash in big with IRITH.
He charged, dagger up, aiming for the wyrm's flank. Bad move. The wyrm's tail flicked—just a lazy swing—and a blast of air hit Kane like a wall. He flew back, crashing hard into the dirt, rolling 'til he slammed against a tree. Pain spiked through his ribs, but the monsters didn't even blink. No notice. Nothing. To them, he was a bug.
Kane coughed, spitting dirt, and hauled himself up. His eyes caught a glint—blue flowers poking out of the ground, petals shimmering like death. Most poisonous stuff around, he'd heard. A grin split his face, crooked and crazy. "Maybe this life, I'm the luckiest jerk alive," he muttered. He yanked the flowers, crushed 'em up, and smeared the sticky juice all over his daggers. The blades glistened, dripping with poison.
Back at the fight, the troll and wyrm were going nuts—like maniacs who only knew blood. Trees snapped, ground tore up, total chaos. Kane spotted a dead orc off to the side—cut up bad, probably caught in the crossfire of these beasts. Made sense. That's why the last orc he'd killed was such a mess—troll and wyrm did the heavy lifting.
He hung back, watching from a busted stump, waiting for his shot. The troll and wyrm were dead even—no one backing down. Troll smashed the wyrm's side, scales cracking. The wyrm whipped around, sank fangs into the troll's arm—blood sprayed, green and red mixing. Troll roared, pounding away.
Kane saw his chance. He grabbed a poison-dipped dagger, aimed, and threw—hard. It zipped through the air, stabbed into the wyrm's back with a dull thunk. The wyrm didn't flinch—like a mosquito bite to that monster. But the poison kicked in slow—its tail dragged a bit, moves getting sloppy. Troll didn't care. One slammed a claw into the wyrm's chest, ripping deep. The wyrm screeched, stumbling, and the troll went berserk—stabbing, clawing, blood everywhere. With a final roar, the troll stomped off, leaving the wyrm in a heap.
Kane crept closer, heart pounding. The clearing was trashed—trees down, dirt flipped upside down, a war zone. The wyrm twitched, still alive somehow, breathing ragged. Kane's grin widened. "This is it," he thought. He pulled his second dagger—poison dripping—and aimed for the throat.
The wyrm's eyes snapped open. Its massive claw swung, fast as heck. Kane dodged, barely—wind whooshed past, and the claw smashed a huge tree like it was paper. "What kinda monster are you?" Kane yelled, half-laughing, half-freaked. But he was faster now—the poison slowed the wyrm down just enough.
He darted in, stabbed hard—right in the neck. Blood gushed, hot and thick. The wyrm thrashed, but Kane didn't stop—stab, stab, stab, hitting every vital spot he could find. Scales split, flesh tore, and soon he was soaked, head to toe in sticky red. The wyrm gurgled, shuddered, and went still. Dead.
Kane stumbled back, panting, dripping blood like a nightmare. "IRITH," he rasped, voice raw.
The air blazed, words glowing big:
[System of IRITH]
[Chart of Kane]
[Strength: 300]
[Magic: 1]
[Dark Magic: 0]
[Special Ability: Aura Sight (See strength, magic, and mana of others), Sense of Danger (Detect threats nearby)]
[Occupation: Not Yet Decided]
[Mana: 500]
[Rule: Kill and Gain]
Strength: 300—holy crap! Mana: 500—like a freaking flood! No change anywhere else, but who cared? He laughed, loud and wild, wiping blood off his face. From 42 to 300, 70 to 500—just one kill, one perfect shot. That wyrm was worth more than every goblin and orc combined. He flexed his arms—felt like he could punch through a wall. Luck, poison, and a dagger turned him into a monster of his own.
He glanced at the wyrm's corpse, grinning. "Guess I'm not so weak now, now where is that fucking monster go?"