Chapter 11 Breath Of Relaxation
As he woke up, leaves fell from his body, and he began scanning the surroundings, releasing painful gasps from his mouth. After sensing that there were no monsters nearby, he looked up at the sky through the hole in the tree and saw that it was already afternoon.
With a bit of relaxation, he opened his Nexus. A deep hum resonated in his mind, and suddenly a holographic dark screen appeared before him, glowing faintly in the dim light.
[NEXUS]
Name: Kaelvren Stormborn
Soulname: No Soulname
Title: No Title
Rank: Unawakened / Lesser
Soul Core: Not Formed
Soul World: Not Formed
Soul Job: Not Found
Soul Rank: Not Found
Soul Attributes: Not Found
Strength: 4
Agility: 7
Vitality: 10
Endurance: 4
Perception: 3
Luck: 7
Bloodline: Unknown
God's Blessings: None
Artifacts: 5
Abilities: 0
Summoning: 0
Dissonance: Not Found
---
[Notice]
All the soul fragments you have accumulated will be calculated at the end of the trial.
---
After glancing through his stats, he noticed something off—his Vitality had dropped. He assumed it was due to blood loss from his injured right arm. But kaelvren wasn't alarmed. He knew that wounds in this world—this realm of consciousness or prayer—didn't carry over to the physical world. However, death here meant the death of the soul. If the soul perished, the physical body would die with it.
Even amidst all these thoughts, the greed in Kaelvren's eyes didn't waver. A glimmer of hope lit up his gaze as he saw it: five artifacts in his possession.
He immediately focused on the Artifacts tab, and five names appeared in front of him:
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Name: Gravewing Shroud
Rank: Ravager (Rank 2)
Type: Winged Cloak / Utility
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Name: Wolvenhide Mantle
Rank: Abyssborne (Rank 1)
Type: Cloak / Light Armor
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Name: Gorefiend Hand Sword
Rank: Abyssborne (Rank 1)
Type: Weapon
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Name: Soulbound Dagger
Rank: Harbinger (Rank 4)
Type: Weapon (Dagger)
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Name: Griefshackles
Rank: Harbingers (Rank 4)
Type: Utility (Shackle)
---
Kaelvren's eyes locked onto the first artifact—Gravewing Shroud—and a window popped up with its detailed description.
The moment he saw it, he jumped in pure excitement.
"Ouch!"
He smacked his head against the inside of the tree hollow. But even the pain couldn't wipe the grin off his face.
Even in the real world, where he was born with a diamond spoon in a golden box wrapped in platinum, he had never once owned a wing-type artifact. They were so rare that even Dread-rank artifacts were more common by comparison. Noble families would spend fortunes and bloodlines to acquire one.
Yet now—he had one.
With excitement still bubbling in his chest, he focused intently on the first artifact—the one that had captured his heart the moment he laid eyes on it.
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Name: Gravewing Shroud
Rank: Fiend (Rank 3)
Type: Winged Cloak / Utility
Description:
A cloak crafted from the molted wings of vultures. It offers aerial mobility and ranged utility through its feather-based features.
Skills / Effects:
Carrion Ascent – Grants limited gliding ability and improved control while airborne.
Piercing Feathers – Fires sharp bone-like feathers in a fan-shaped arc, dealing piercing damage.
Flaw:
Feather Drain – Feathers need time to regenerate after use. Prolonged gliding causes mild fatigue.
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"I'm such an idiot…" Kaelvren muttered, pressing his palm to his forehead. Regret gnawed at him like the cold river current had. If I had just opened the Nexus when I was stuck on that damn branch…
He paused, exhaling sharply.
"I could've been flying…" he whispered.
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. He had a wing-type artifact—Gravewing Shroud—something so rare it was nearly mythical. Even in the real world, where he'd been born with a diamond spoon in a golden box wrapped in platinum, wing-type artifacts were rarer than Dread-rank weapons.
"I could've glided across that river. Avoided the whole nightmare," he said bitterly. "Could've slept safely… instead of nearly dying."
He shook his head, forcing the regret down. There was no going back. But there was still something to gain.
With that, his gaze shifted toward the remaining two artifacts he had obtained during the Great Massacre Misfortune. Whatever fate had thrown at him back there… it had also left him something powerful.
He turned his head toward the remaining two artifacts, the remnants of the Great Massacre Misfortune still fresh in his mind.
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Gorefiend Hand Sword
Rank: Abyssborne (Rank 1)
Type: Weapon – Crude Short Sword
Description:
Forged from scavenged bone and blood-rusted metal, this blade carries no elegance—only survival. It was once dragged from a corpse's grip beneath the blackened moon, and to this day, it hums with a thirst that no clean weapon ever would.
Effect:
Bloodstain Edge – Increases damage slightly against weakened enemies. Deals minor extra damage if the wielder is already injured.
Lightweight Grip – Allows fast slashes and quick thrusts.
Flaw:
Rust Veins – Blade dulls quickly with each kill and must be sharpened often to prevent breakage mid-fight.
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Wolvenhide Mantle
Rank: Abyssborne (Rank 1)
Type: Cloak / Light Armor
Description:
Stitched from the pelt of a fallen Shadow Wolf, this cloak was once wrapped around the shoulders of a starving hunter. It does not gleam, nor does it intimidate—but when the night howls, it listens. And when death comes crawling, it keeps the warmth in just long enough to strike back.
Effect:
Shadow Insulation – Slightly reduces physical damage and cold exposure. Provides minor concealment in dark areas like forests and caves.
Warmth Aura (Passive) – Maintains body heat, preventing stamina loss in cold climates.
Flaw:
Threadbare Core – Weak against piercing or magic damage. Highly flammable and degrades when exposed to acid.
---
In the concentrated silence, as he read through the details, a low growl from Kaelvren's stomach broke the moment. He grimaced in embarrassment. Without a second thought, he stripped off his ragged clothes and pulled on the Wolvenhide Mantle.
"Thank God… finally something decent that actually serves a purpose," he muttered under his breath.
As the cloak wrapped around him, his eyes drifted down to his bare chest, and then to the stump of his right shoulder. The absence of his arm stared back at him like a missing piece of memory. But something strange clung to the wound. It wasn't bleeding. No rot, no decay. Muscles had started to grow naturally around the shoulder, forming a crude, uneven seal. It wasn't the work of magic or some unknown force—it was simply the body's raw instinct to survive, to rebuild whatever it could, even without the limb it had lost.
That's when the realization struck him. The dagger.
Frantically, he brought up the artifact's details:
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Soulbound Dagger
Rank: Harbinger (Rank 4)
Type: Weapon (Dagger)
Effects:
Soul Devour – Absorbs the life force of slain enemies, temporarily enhancing the wielder's strength, speed, and regeneration.
Blood Oath – Once bound, the weapon cannot be discarded, stolen, or destroyed. It will always return to the wielder.
Veil of Shadows – When held, the user's presence becomes harder to detect in low-light conditions.
Flaws:
Cursed Hunger – The dagger must kill frequently, or it will begin consuming the wielder's vitality instead.
Bound by Fate – If another soul attempts to wield it, they will be permanently marked as an enemy by the dagger's original owner.
---
His eyes locked onto a single line:
Soul Devour – Absorbs the life force of slain enemies, temporarily enhancing the wielder's strength, speed, and regeneration.
His lips curled into a crooked grin, eyes wide with awe.
"Thank God i have obtained this artifact… My luck—it's still alive. Still damn strong!" he gasped.
Then, staring at the dagger with borderline reverence, he whispered, "Goddess of Luck… if you're real, I swear I'll worship you. Hell, I'll start your damn religion. Just don't leave me in this misfortune forever."
With that, he stepped out from the hollow of the tree trunk and summoned the Wolvenhide Mantle and the Gravewing Shroud. The two artifacts wrapped around his body—dark fabric and bone feathers swirling like smoke in the wind. In seconds, he was cloaked in shadows, wings unfurling behind him like a storm. To any onlooker, he no longer looked human—he looked like a devil risen from the sky, draped in black, crowned with massive wings that whispered dread into the air.
He took one step forward, his wings flexing wide beneath the dark sky.
"It's time to test it out," he whispered, a cold grin forming.
The hunt begins.