The morning mist clung to the Mire like a second skin. Between twisted trees and shallow logs, the sun's rays barely pierced through, turning the swamp into a dull haze of silvery gloom. Every leaf glistened with moisture. Insects clicked and buzzed in lazy arcs through the humid air.
Ren crouched over the corpse of the beast he had slain the night before.
Now that it was dead, the thing looked smaller, less monstrous. Still, its skin shimmered faintly, and the color of its eyes—dim and lifeless—left him unsettled. His ribs ached with every breath, but he was alive. That was enough.
He glanced at the Spell Interface again.
Poison Essence: 1 / 1000
That was all he had gained. No strange weapons appeared in his hands. No spectral creature clawed its way out of the beast's remains. There was no reward beyond this single number slowly counting upward.
He had no way of knowing if that was normal.
Ren had tried summoning something—anything—the way he'd done with his toxin. He'd focused, whispered the words he thought might awaken some latent reward. Nothing came.
The Spell was silent, but not absent.
"One step at a time," he murmured to himself.
Carefully, he rose and left the body behind. Though he didn't know it yet, the corpse would be gone by the time night fell. Not devoured or stolen—simply faded from the world, as all Nightmare Creatures did once their Soul Essence was claimed.
The village was two days eastward, if one knew where to walk. But Ren didn't return.
Instead, he turned west—deeper into the Mire.
He'd survived one encounter. And now he had a goal.
Poison Essence. Divine Lineage. The trait whispered of something ancient inside him, dormant but awakening.
He had to know more.
As the day stretched on, Ren waded through stagnant pools and scaled moss-covered roots the size of wagon wheels. Each step deeper into the wild reminded him how small he was, how unprepared.
But something inside was changing.
The Mire had always been a hostile place, and yet now, when the clouds parted and sunlight fell through the canopy, it almost looked like it bowed to him. Flowers bloomed where he stepped, some with veins the color of his venom. Mushrooms pulsed with faint green spores and shrank away at his touch. Even the insects didn't land on him anymore.
He didn't notice at first. But the Mire did.
By nightfall, he found a patch of high ground—rocky and ringed by bone-white ferns. He sat cross-legged and closed his eyes.
Focus.
Breathe.
Let it move.
The Poison Essence stirred. It was different from the flow of soul essence he'd experienced during the Nightmare. It was thicker, heavier, like sap trickling down through roots. He followed its path, tracing it from the depths of his chest to the limbs and veins it now reinforced.
He could feel his soul core, no longer inert but faintly glowing. Like a budding flower, it had drawn in the essence and begun to stir.
The number meant something. One out of one thousand. A fraction of a whole.
How much would he change by the time it reached its limit?
He wasn't sure how long he sat there when the Spell Interface shimmered into view again.
[ Status ]
Name: Ren
Rank: Sleeper
Aspect: Blooming Blight [Divine]
Flaw: Drifting Corruption
Trait: Divine Lineage (Locked)
Poison Essence: 1 / 1000
Core State: Unsaturated
Memories: —
Echoes: —
His gaze lingered on the empty spaces. Memories. Echoes.
Whatever they were, he hadn't received any. He didn't know if that was a flaw in himself, or simply a matter of chance. The thought sat uneasily in his gut. Was he missing something essential? Or was this simply how the Blooming Blight worked?
There was no way to know.
He closed the window and let out a breath. His ribs were bruised, but no longer bleeding. The poison that filled him must've numbed the pain—or maybe it was adapting him in other ways. Toughening his flesh. Strengthening the vessels that carried it.
His thoughts were broken by a sudden rustle below.
Ren dropped silently behind a tree trunk and peered through a curtain of vines.
Another beast.
But this one was smaller. Lizard-like, with a bloated neck sac and sharp spines down its back. It slithered along the roots, flicking a forked tongue in and out, clearly tracking a scent.
Ren's breath slowed. He watched.
Waited.
When the creature reared up to sniff the air again, he struck.
He dropped from the tree, his blade already coated in toxin. The creature sensed him too late—his knife plunged into the side of its neck. Black fluid gushed out as the toxin surged through the wound.
The lizard thrashed violently and knocked Ren back with a powerful kick. He tumbled across the mud, narrowly avoiding a second strike from its tail.
It snarled—more intelligent than he expected—and lunged.
Ren pivoted, narrowly ducking beneath it, and slashed again. This time, he opened a wound near its underbelly. The toxin took root instantly, spreading green lines through its translucent flesh.
Moments later, it collapsed.
Ren stood over the body, chest heaving.
The Spell shimmered.
Poison Essence: 2 / 1000
Still no Memory. No Echo.
He stared at the corpse for a long time.
"...So it doesn't happen every time," he muttered, the pieces falling into place.
It wasn't guaranteed. The essence—yes. But whatever else the Spell could give… it was selective. Random. Or maybe it only gave such things when the beast met certain criteria.
He didn't know.
But now he knew enough to hunt again.
He felt stronger than the day before. A tiny bloom in the rot. But it would grow.
The Blight was waking.
And so was he.