Chapter 13: The Cursed Fist

The night hadn't calmed yet, but the battle was over. Smoke still lingered in the air, and the sharp scent of blood seeped into everything, turning the place into something more like a crematory than a forest.

Ashen stood on his feet with difficulty, his body covered in wounds and bruises. He was breathing slowly—every inhale felt like a dagger, every exhale like fire in his lungs.

He looked ahead, at the massive body lying motionless. The Bear King… the beast that tore through dozens of hyenas, endured countless traps, and fought until its last breath. Now, it was just a heap of fur and blood.

Ashen stepped toward it. His movements were heavy, hesitant. It wasn't just exhaustion... it was a strange pull toward the corpse, as if something inside him was preparing for something.

And when he touched the bear's chest...

His soul ignited.

Ashen's bloodline, without any command from him, burst to life. A violent pulse nearly brought him to his knees. His blood began to boil, as though something inside him had awoken—something old, savage, and wild.

From the bear's corpse, a dense, bloody essence began to flow into Ashen's body. It wasn't just energy. It was something deeper. Older. Primal.

Ashen's bloodline… was devouring.

His body trembled. He felt his bones reshaping, his muscles contracting and relaxing, and even his heart beating in unfamiliar rhythms.

Then, before his eyes, a message appeared—like a whisper from within his blood:

"Bloodline Purity: 1%"

Ashen gasped.

"One percent?! That's… impossible!"

He remembered clearly. Before the clan's blood was fused into his body, he carried a pure bloodline with 25% purity—a direct inheritance from his father, the late chieftain.

But now? One percent?

He sat down, trying to make sense of it. Between his labored breaths and torn muscles, he began speaking to himself:

"The fusion… doesn't mean purity."

He raised his hand, watching it tremble.

"I fused nearly 30% of my clan's blood into me—raw blood sealed with a strange technique. That blood gives me quantity, yes. It grants me the potential to grow stronger. But… it doesn't give me purity."

His eyes gleamed.

"Purity… is the concentration of the bloodline. Its clarity. It's how deeply it merges with my cells, my soul, my being."

"The sealed bloodline, despite its power, is still unrefined. It still carries impurities. It still screams and rebels inside me."

He lifted his head.

"And that's the gap..."

He remembered old words, spoken to him by his father long ago.

"Even I, as the clan leader, only reached 50% of our bloodline's purity."

And now he… after everything, was starting over at just one percent.

But…

Something had changed.

When he devoured the bear's essence, he didn't just feel strength. He felt something unlock within him. As if doors long shut had begun to crack open.

Then… something unexpected happened.

A strange force exploded from his heart.

His blood shook, every cell turning toward a single point. And there… in his chest, near the marrow, deep within the bloodline, a spark ignited.

A power.

A power he didn't know he had.

Devour.

A flash appeared before his eyes, and a strange piece of information embedded itself in his mind:

"Bloodline Ability Activated: Devour"

His blood fused with the remains of the bear's essence, and soon a strange aura formed around his right hand. Symbols unlike anything he'd ever seen—dark runes the color of dried blood, as if etched by death itself.

Ashen's hand trembled… then stilled.

He whispered to himself:

"This… is a power?"

A deep instinct began whispering strange things to him. Not spoken, but understood. As if his blood remembered an ancient language.

"Devour… in its old version, was used to steal only one ability from any other bloodline. And according to the clan records, only those who reached 70% bloodline purity could even hope to obtain it. The ability allows stealing one power only. If you want another, you must give up the first."

He smiled bitterly.

"But my bloodline changed… after merging with the clan's blood, after absorbing raw essence from the outside, after my abnormal evolution… it became something else."

He raised his hand, now glowing with the new runes.

"My bloodline no longer obeys the old rules."

Another whisper reached him...

"If the purity increases… more doors will open."

If the purity increases, he might be able to steal more than one ability.

He took a deep breath.

Now, he possessed something no one else in his clan ever had. No one. Not even his father.

The "Devour" ability had evolved.

And now...

He had stolen the Bear King's technique: Bear King's Fist.

He didn't just feel like he possessed it—he felt as if it had been planted in his body. As if his muscles themselves were rearranging their fibers to understand how to strike with it.

This was the beginning...

But full mastery? Design? Adaptation?

That would come...

Later.

But at that moment, in the forest, amidst the smell of blood and ash...

Ashen smiled.

A tired, bloody smile… but one that carried something else.

A new beginning.

A turning point.

And after the Cursed Fist...

Nothing would be the same again.