Ten minutes have passed since I first stepped foot into the cave with no signs of anything.
But as I travel deeper into the depths of the dungeon, I notice a foul smell that gets stronger each time I walk forward.
It smells like a carcass that has been rotting for a week.
Then, after five more minutes of walking, my eyes started to focus on something in the distance, and I saw something gruesome.
A pack of wolves—monstrous in size, each towering over the height of a grown man—circles hungrily around one of their own. Jagged, obsidian-black horns protrude from the center of their foreheads, grotesque and thick, sharp enough to pierce through steel, let alone flesh. Their breaths come heavy, steam rising in the chill as I watch the beasts tear into the carcass of their kin. Flesh rips, bones crack, and the sound echoes hauntingly through the cave, a grotesque symphony of dominance and primal hunger.
Their nose starts to twitch as if smelling something, and their gaze turns towards me.
Shit, they noticed me.
These are savages.
Should I run?
No.
I've killed people before, animals aren't any different. They fall even lower.
One of the wolves charges alone towards me, and seeing this, my body freezes up.
Fuck, my legs are shaking.
Am I afraid?
Why?
Why now?
I recall the face of Aengus and the anguish on his fallen face that was separated from his body.
Never again.
I need to get stronger.
No.
I will become stronger.
I draw in a long, steady breath, the cold air burning through my lungs. My eyes lock with the charging beast—feral, merciless, unstoppable.
But I don't flinch.
I bury every flicker of fear, every trace of hesitation. I sever my emotions, feel them die in that instant, like smothered embers.
There is only the task.
Only the kill.
The monstrous wolf lunges, fangs bared and glinting in the faint light. Its roar pierces the cave like a jagged blade. But in a breath, I slip beneath its jaws, the wind from its strike grazing my face. My hand finds its thick, coarse fur mid-air, yanking it down with brutal force. My other hand clamps around its throat—tight, unyielding. Its momentum is broken, its body twisting in my grip as the growl turns into a strangled snarl.
Veltrix.
The wolf's struggles come to a halt as its body evaporates into thin air.
I stand victorious in front of the other pack as my fist tightens, filled with determination.
As I was out on a rampage in town, killing others, I configured new spells. Veltrix allows me to bring out a potential that my body has that far surpasses Armament, and I figured out the rule behind it. If I use an entire organism as a catalyst, I can attain an even stronger power than if I use my own fingers. It must be due to the value that an entire organism holds, as opposed to just my fingers.
The remaining wolves, now aware of what I had done, grow enraged, snarling, barking, their eyes glowing with primal fury. They charge, a blur of muscle and claw. But before their fangs can find flesh, I'm already moving.
I lunge forward—faster than their eyes can track—and drive my fist through the chest of the first one, its body erupting in a sickening explosion of blood and bone. The walls are painted red, yet the others show no hesitation.
They come, but I dismantle them with precision.
One leaps—I catch its head mid-air and split its jaws open with a sickening crack. Another lunges from the side—I meet it with a punch so vicious it caves into the earth like wet clay. I rip and tear, slam and crush. Limbs twist unnaturally. Bodies crumple. The ground is slick with gore.
Three seconds. That's all it takes.
When the frenzy ends, silence returns, broken only by the slow drip of blood from the stone walls. The wolves lie broken, shattered remains of their former menace.
Veltrix works even better when I use stronger creatures.
I look down at my hands, thinking about my newfound power.
I crouch down to the bodies of the wolves that still retain shape.
These are still usable as catalysts.
I let out a sigh, looking at the perfectly useful catalysts of the thirty wolves lying scattered across the ground.
If only I could save them later for the other monsters here.
What a waste.
But as I rise from the carnage, my breath steady, the ring on my finger begins to glow—an eerie, pulsing blue. It hums with energy, resonating with something unseen.
One by one, the mangled corpses of the wolves flicker, their forms unraveling into radiant streams of blue light. The blood, the torn flesh, the shattered bones—all dissolve into luminescence, weightless and ethereal.
The light spirals inward, drawn to the ring like moths to flame. It condenses—silent, swift—until every last trace of the beasts is gone.
Only the ring remains aglow, now quiet once more.
A chill runs down my spine.
It consumed them. All of them.
What just happened?...
I stare at the ring, silent.
I shake my hand, as if thinking it would do something.
I don't really get what happened, but I'd better hurry with this quest, I don't want to take too long. I'll think about it later.
I continue on, encountering more and more creatures, each terrifying than the one before.
Giant spiders, insects that were human-sized, and skeletons from past adventurers that have come back to life to serve as creatures for the dungeon.
Making my way past all of them, I arrive in an area of the cave that holds a giant room with a ceiling stretching higher than the guild hall and walls further apart than a castle.
What is this?
I notice a giant drawn circle in the middle of the room, filled with symbols and writing.
Was someone here before?
I walk towards the circle, curious about what it meant, when suddenly I'm met with a loud growling sound somewhere in the room.
On my guard, I listen closely, not knowing what creature lies in the unknown.
What is this sound?
In a split second, the ground quakes beneath me as a monstrous blur barrels forward—an enormous bear, easily five times my size, its roar tearing through the air like thunder.
I barely manage to dive out of its path, the force of its charge rattling my bones as it crashes past, splintering stone and dirt in its wake.
Turning to face it, I finally get a good look.
Its eyes burn with a deep, primal fury, and thick, scarred muscle coils beneath its matted fur. Around its neck, nestled against its flesh, is a jagged, blood-red gem pulsing with dark energy, beating like a second heart.
This must be the Gravenmaw.
There's no mistaking it.
The Gravenmaw unleashes a deafening roar, but this is no mere sound—it carries with it a wave of raw, concentrated mana that ripples through the air like a shockwave.
The moment it hits me, my ears ring violently, and a searing pain explodes behind my eyes.
I drop to one knee, clutching my head as warm blood trickles from my tear ducts, staining my cheeks crimson. My muscles tremble under the weight of the oppressive force, and my vision fractures, darkening at the edges.
Every breath feels heavier. Every thought, slower.
The Gravenmaw's massive frame blurs forward, each step thundering like a drumbeat of death with terrifying speed.
Still on one knee, vision pulsing red, I force my body into motion, rolling to the side just in time. The beast barrels past, its claws raking the stone where I was moments ago.
With a sickening crunch, it slams headlong into the cave wall.
The impact booms through the chamber, causing the very ground to quiver. Cracks split the rock, and bits of debris rain down from above, clicking and clattering across the stone floor.
Dust clouds bloom around its impact point, momentarily obscuring the beast. But I can still feel it—its presence. The air thick with fury.
It's dazed, but not for long.
I need to get out.
I need to escape.
I need to leave.
I need to survive.
I struggle to my feet, body trembling from the lingering effects of the Gravenmaw's mana-infused roar. Each breath is a fight, every step toward the chamber's exit a test of will. My vision blurs, blood still dripping from my eyes, but I press on through sheer defiance.
Then, without warning, the ground pulses beneath me.
A deep, resonating hum fills the cave as the Gravenmaw rears back and slams both of its colossal forelimbs into the earth. The moment its paws hit the ground, a wave of enchanted force erupts outward—a concussive pulse of raw magic laced into the very stone.
The spell strikes me like a hammer.
My muscles lock instantly. My legs give out. I collapse to the floor, every nerve in my body screaming in resistance, but unable to move. It's more than a physical impact—I couldn't move, a power designed to paralyze its prey with terrifying precision.
Helpless, I lie on the cold, cracked ground, my ears ringing, the shadow of the beast growing larger in the dust-filled air.
SHIT.
SHIT.
SHIT.
SHIT.
SHIT.
It lunges at me, its massive form a storm of raw power and fury. Before I can react, its gaping jaws clamp down on my legs with a sickening crunch. Pain unlike anything I've ever known floods my senses.
Then I'm airborne—flung like a ragdoll.
The beast thrashes its head violently, and with a gruesome tear, my leg is ripped from my body. A fountain of blood erupts from the torn stump, painting the cave in deep crimson arcs as my body is hurled across the chamber like discarded meat, crashing against the stone wall with a brutal, bone-snapping impact.
The cave spins.
My vision flickers in and out of focus.
And there, through the haze of agony and blood, I see it.
The Gravenmaw hunched over my severed leg, gnawing on it with savage delight, its snarls echoing like laughter through the cavern.
I let out a bloodcurdling scream, raw and desperate, ripping through the cavern as the unbearable pain consumes me.
FUCK.
FUCK.
FUCK.
FUCK.
IT HURTS.
IT HURTS.
IT HURTS.
WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH?
I look down at the part where my leg once was. There, bleeding, tiny bits of mana festering within my wound.
THE GRAVENMAW INFUSED MANA INTO HIS BITE?
IT HURTS SO MUCH.
I CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT.
I NEED TO HEAL.
Slowly lifting my arm, now free from the paralysis, I hover it over my body, stretching my palms out.
Heal.
But nothing happened.
No glow.
No mana flowed from my body.
WHAT'S GOING ON?
Then I realized.
I can't heal my own missing body parts using my body as a catalyst.
The Gravenmaw unleashes a deafening roar, its jaws slick with the remnants of my shattered leg. Its eyes burn with pure malice, locking onto me like a predator zeroing in on its prey.
A cold wave of terror crashes over me as it snarls, muscles tensing for another attack. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, faster and more furious than before, it charges straight at me again.
No.
No.
No.
Stay away.
Stay away.
STAY AWAY.
In desperation, I lift up my arm in the creature's direction and unleash a spell, the strongest I've cast, using my entire arm as the catalyst.
Gaeathorn.
Jagged, towering spikes burst violently from the cracked earth beneath, tearing through the Gravenmaw's thick hide with savage force. Each spike pierces deep into its massive, trembling body, rupturing muscle and bone, stopping its furious charge dead in its tracks.
The beast emits a final, guttural roar—raw and filled with pain—that echoes through the cavern as dark blood seeps from the wounds, cascading down its powerful limbs and pooling on the ground below.
The once-radiant red gem embedded in its neck flickers weakly, its ominous glow fading like a dying ember, until at last it dims completely, leaving the cavern engulfed in an eerie silence.
I exhale a shaky breath of relief, bracing myself for the agony of losing my arm. But when I glance down, a jolt of disbelief hits me—my arm is still there, whole and untouched.
Did I just use a spell with no catalyst?
Then it hits me.
Remembering the wolves that were sucked into my ring, it has to have something to do with that.
I hold my ringed hand out and focus on the images of the wolves, trying to release them.
But it was no use.
There was nothing.
I sat there, still injured, trying to analyze the situation, coming to a conclusion.
But there was only one way to test it.
Using my hands, I crawl toward the lifeless Gravenmaw, pushing myself up against the jagged spikes protruding from the ground. With a fierce grip, I seize the beast's massive arm and wrench it free from its shattered body.
I heal my leg using the arm as a catalyst and move on with my experiment, first removing the gem from its thick, furry neck.
I try to replicate the same feeling that I had when the wolves were sucked into the ring, wishing I could save the Gravenmaw's body.
The ring on my finger flared with a piercing blue light once more. The Gravenmaw's shattered body began to shimmer, glowing brighter and brighter until it dissolved into a swirling pulse of radiant energy, then was drawn violently into the ring, vanishing without a trace.
That concludes it.
This ring has the ability to store items in it, and I'm able to use those stored items as catalysts whenever I cast spells.
That's the reason why my arm was still there after I cast Gaeathorn. Because it used some of the wolves as the catalyst for it, and also the reason why the spell was so powerful.
But there's something I still need to know.
What's the limit to the amount I can store?
Is there even a limit?
I put out my hand, staring at the ring.
Looks like I have to experiment more with this new profound power.
Who knows how far I can take this?
I walk back in the direction I came from.
With the red gem in my hand from the Gravenmaw, my quest is complete.
As I drag myself back toward the cave's gaping maw...