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The sensation of Arrogance settling back into his body was like slipping into a perfectly tailored suit after wearing ill-fitting clothes for too long. Russell couldn't help but let out a deep, contented sigh as the symbiote's essence merged with his cells, each one singing with newfound vitality.
"The familiar feeling is back," he murmured, flexing his fingers experimentally. Already he could feel the changes—muscles denser without being bulky, reflexes sharpened to a razor's edge, senses expanding beyond human norms. The [Intermediate Body Enhancement] was improving his physical capabilities.
Standing in his workshop, Russell performed a series of movements—basic Fighting arts forms that Arrogance's [Battle Master] trait provided. What would have left him winded before now felt effortless. His body moved with liquid grace, each motion flowing into the next with perfect economy.
"Once this body strengthening is complete," he mused, throwing a practice punch that split the air with an audible crack, "most cardmakers below bronze level won't even be able to defeat me in a physical fight."
The implications were staggering. Cardmakers typically relied entirely on their cards for combat—their own bodies were just vulnerable meat puppets directing the real fighters. But Russell would be different. Even if all his cards were on cooldown or suppressed, he'd still be a formidable opponent. In a world where assassination was a valid political tool, that kind of personal strength could mean the difference between life and death.
The ability to enhance his own body wasn't just about survival in battle, though. It would also significantly improve his winning rate in his "sparring sessions" at home. The thought brought a slight flush to his cheeks and a grin that had nothing to do with combat.
Which reminded him—Arrogance had a new ability that needed testing.
"If Arrogance can obtain genetic modules by possessing others," Russell wondered aloud, a strange idea taking root, "then what kind of genetic module would it obtain from me?"
He was human, after all. No special powers beyond his cardmaking abilities, no exotic genetics beyond whatever made him compatible with dimensional travel. What possible advantage could Arrogance extract from his mundane biology?
Curiosity overwhelming caution, Russell reached inward to check the symbiote's status. The information that greeted him made him freeze mid-breath.
Currently Obtained Gene Module: [Iron Kidney]Currently Inserted Gene Modules: 0/1[Iron Kidney]: This module can help an organism effectively improve kidney function.
"?"
Russell stared at the description with the intensity of someone trying to decode an alien language through sheer force of will. The silence in his workshop stretched, broken only by his own increasingly erratic breathing.
"It's not that I have a problem," he said slowly. "I just think the mysterious space might have a problem."
But denial wouldn't change reality. There it was, in stark systematic text: his genetic contribution to Arrogance's arsenal was enhanced kidney function. Of all the possible human advantages—opposable thumbs, advanced cognition, social cooperation—the mysterious space had decided his most notable trait was... that.
Russell pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting down a complex mixture of embarrassment and indignation. Then, with the resignation of someone accepting an uncomfortable truth, he made a decision.
Currently Inserted Gene Module: [Iron Kidney]. 1/1
"Well," he rationalized, trying to salvage some dignity from the situation, "I don't have any other modules to use right now. No harm in using it first, right?"
And if he was being completely honest—which he wasn't, even in the privacy of his own thoughts—the enhancement might prove useful for those future sparring sessions. A strong sense of confidence rose in his chest, accompanied by a slightly unhinged smile that would have concerned anyone watching.
But before he could explore that particular rabbit hole further, more pressing matters demanded attention. He pulled out his phone, thumbs dancing across the screen.
[Russell]: Senior Sister, I would like to take a day off tomorrow.
The response came quickly, Hazel apparently being one of those night owls who never truly slept.
[Hazel]: What happened?
[Russell]: I have a card that I need to deal with. I will definitely be back before the next practical training class.
[Hazel]: OK. (Smiley face.jpg)
The ease of approval caught him off-guard. Russell had constructed entire conversations in his head—justifications, promises, maybe even some light begging. But Hazel, true to her nature, simply accepted his word. The trust implicit in that simple "OK" made something warm bloom in his chest.
"Sometimes I forget how good Senior Sister is to me,"
With leave secured, Russell turned to more practical considerations. He needed a location with rich biodiversity—somewhere Arrogance could sample a variety of genetic modules without traveling too far. Opening a detailed map of the region on his tablet, he began evaluating options.
The Emerald Depths were famous for their exotic wildlife, including several species found nowhere else. But they were a full day's travel each way, leaving no time for actual hunting. The Sunspear Preserve boasted incredible diversity but was heavily monitored—explaining why he was harvesting genetic material would be awkward at best, criminal at worst.
"This is the only place I can go," Russell decided after twenty minutes of analysis. His finger tapped the Gray Ridge Mountains, a modest range just two hours from Northgate. It wasn't as ecologically diverse as other options, but it had advantages—minimal human presence, confirmed populations of interesting species, and most importantly, proximity.
The Gray Ridge Mountains stretched across the map , elevation lines showing peaks that scraped three thousand meters. Not impressive by global standards, but enough to create multiple climate zones. From deciduous forests at the base through coniferous bands to alpine meadows, the range hosted everything from black bears to golden eagles.
"But before we set off," Russell thought, that slightly manic grin returning, "let's have one more exciting sparring session."
The pre-dawn darkness still clung to Northgate when Russell finally emerged from his apartment. The city slept, only night shift workers and insomniacs witnessing the massive shape that launched from his building's roof. Pidgeot, enhanced by Arrogance's symbiotic overlay, had transformed from a simple mount into something from primordial nightmares.
Black and red tendrils wrapped the bird's form, creating additional wings that defied biology, extra eyes that saw in spectrums beyond visible light, and musculature that turned flight from physics to pure will. Russell clung to its back, the wind of their passage threatening to tear him away despite Arrogance's grip.
"After Arrogance was promoted to Silver Rank, even the possessed Pidgeot has become faster," Russell noted, watching the city lights blur beneath them. The difference was noticeable—maybe twenty percent improvement in speed, better maneuverability, enhanced endurance. But it remained lipstick on a pig. Pidgeot was still fundamentally an Iron-level card trying to keep up with Silver-level needs.
"I really need a proper mount," he muttered into the wind. Something designed for speed, with growth potential to match his ambitions. Adding it to his ever-growing list of necessary upgrades, Russell focused on the journey ahead.
The Gray Ridge Mountains emerged from darkness like a wall of shadow against shadow. Even in the pre-dawn gloom, their bulk was impressive granite bones of the earth thrust skyward. This far from major cities, nature still reigned supreme.
"Arrived."
Russell guided Pidgeot to a clearing halfway up the northern slope. The landing was rough—even enhanced, the bird struggled with precision in thin mountain air. As soon as Russell dismounted, he dismissed the exhausted mount, making a mental note to apologize with extra treats later.
Standing alone in the wilderness, Russell took a moment to appreciate the scene. The forest around him was waking—birds beginning their dawn chorus, small mammals rustling through undergrowth.
"This is a good opportunity to test Arrogance's strength after its promotion," he decided. No witnesses, no property damage concerns, no need to hold back. Just him, the symbiote, and whatever wildlife was unfortunate enough to cross their path.
The transformation was smoother now, more natural. Where before Arrogance had erupted from him like a violent birth, now it flowed outward like liquid given purpose. The symbiote wrapped him in layers—first a second skin that multiplied his strength, then armor that redefined durability, finally the full monstrous form .
Standing three meters tall, wrapped in writhing darkness shot through with crimson veins, Russell had become something that belonged in humanity's racial nightmares. He flexed experimental claws, each one capable of shearing through steel. His enhanced senses exploded outward—hearing heartbeats from hundreds of meters away, seeing heat signatures through solid rock, tasting fear pheromones on the wind.
"Time to hunt,"
He dropped to all fours and bounded into the forest, each leap covering dozens of meters. Trees whipped past. The first target appeared within minutes—a wild boar rooting through the underbrush, tusks that could gore a man gleaming in the dim light.
The boar never saw death coming. Russell was on it before its primitive brain could process the threat, Arrogance extending tendrils that wrapped the animal in an unbreakable grip. The possession was quick, clinical—Arrogance flowing over the boar's form, analyzing its biology, extracting what was useful.
Gene Module Obtained: [Reinforced Bristles]
Russell dismissed the module immediately. Hair that could become defensive spines was interesting but not what he needed. The boar, released from possession, squealed and fled into the underbrush. Russell let it go—he wasn't here to kill, just to sample.
The hunt continued as dawn broke properly, painting the mountains in shades of gold and green. A golden eagle provided [Raptor Vision], its incredible distance sight and motion tracking. A mountain cat gifted [Silent Stalking], the ability to move without sound even at full speed. A particularly large python offered [Dislocating Joints], which Russell filed away with mixed feelings.
But the real prize came just as he was considering heading back. Moving through a bamboo grove, Russell's enhanced senses detected something unusual—a heartbeat too slow for a mammal.
He found it sunning on a rock outcrop—a Spirit Viper, one of the few naturally magical creatures in the Gray Ridge Mountains. No bigger than a common snake but containing enough venom to drop an elephant in seconds. More importantly, its biology straddled the line between mundane and magical.
The possession was more difficult this time. The Spirit Viper's magical nature resisted Arrogance's intrusion, creating a battle of wills that played out in seconds but felt like hours. Finally, Russell's determination won through, the symbiote successfully analyzing the creature's unique biology.
Gene Module Obtained: [Magical Venom Synthesis]
"Now that's more like it," Russell grinned, immediately swapping out [Iron Kidney] for the new module. The change was instant—venom glands forming in his symbiotic form, ready to deliver toxins that affected both body and magical energy. Much more useful for combat than... other enhancements.
Satisfied with the morning's harvest, Russell began making his way back toward civilization. He'd need to return tonight for more sampling, but this was an excellent start. Lost in plans for which modules to prioritize, he almost missed the sounds of distress echoing through the forest.
Voices. Human voices, raised in panic and argument.
Evan regretted everything.
He regretted listening to Steve's ridiculous idea about " wilderness experiences." He regretted not insisting on hiring a proper guide. He regretted not bringing a satellite phone despite Steve's insistence that "getting away from technology" was the whole point. Most of all, he regretted not simply staying home playing video games like a sensible person.
"This is all your fault," he muttered for the hundredth time, adjusting his backpack straps where they'd rubbed his shoulders raw. Three days of wandering had turned what was supposed to be a weekend adventure into a survival situation.
"You've mentioned that," Steve replied with forced cheer, though the exhaustion in his voice betrayed his own doubts. "But look at it this way—we're having an adventure! How many people can say they've really experienced nature?"
"People who lived to tell about it," Evan shot back, stumbling over a root. His designer hiking boots—purchased specifically for this trip—were already falling apart. "We're lost, Steve. Completely, utterly lost. We could die out here."
They'd started with such confidence. Steve had found a "hidden trail" online, posted by someone who claimed it led to untouched vistas and pristine camping spots. What they'd actually found was a deer path that petered out after two kilometers, leaving them in trackless wilderness with no idea which direction led to civilization.
The first night had been almost fun—camping under stars invisible from the city, telling ghost stories, pretending they were real adventurers. The second night, after a close encounter with what might have been a bear, the romance had worn off. Now, approaching their fourth night, fear was setting in properly.
"We should have reached the eastern trail by now," Steve admitted, consulting his useless map for the dozenth time. Without GPS, without landmarks they could identify, it might as well have been abstract art. "Maybe if we head more north?"
"We've been heading north for six hours!" Evan exploded. "Face it—we have no idea where we are!"
The worst part was the gnawing fear that they weren't alone. Not just the native wildlife, which was bad enough. But everyone knew that isolated wilderness areas sometimes harbored worse things. Demons that had slipped through from pocket dimensions, creatures that fed on human fear and flesh. The probability was low—the government was good about containment—but not zero.
"Look," Steve said, trying to project calm leadership despite his own trembling hands, "I told my family we'd be back by tomorrow. When we don't show up, they'll send search teams. We just need to survive one more night."
Evan wanted to point out that "one more night" assumed search teams could find them quickly in thousands of acres of wilderness. That it assumed they'd survive whatever had been leaving those strange tracks they'd found near the water source. That it assumed a lot of things that seemed increasingly unlikely.
Instead, he just nodded. "Where should we make camp?"
They found a small clearing with good sightlines, setting up their tent . Three nights of practice had taught them efficiency—gather wood before dark, keep the fire small but constant, take turns keeping watch despite exhaustion.
"Can we even get out?" Evan asked as they huddled in the tent, the question that had been haunting him finally voiced.
Steve's bravado cracked slightly before reforming. He patted his chest with false confidence. "Leave it to me. I'll get you out."
Evan looked at his friend's tattered jacket, the bravado as threadbare as the fabric. "It's because I trusted you that we're in this state now. I feel like this is our grave."
"Don't be so pessimistic," Steve chuckled weakly. "Like I said, my family knows our general route. They'll find us."
Our bodies, Evan thought but didn't say. They'll find our bodies.
Just as he was about to voice another complaint, the night exploded.
BOOM!
The sound was impossibly loud, like thunder striking directly overhead. The ground shook, their tent walls rippling from the shockwave. Both men froze, primitive instincts screaming danger.
"What the hell! What's going on!?"
They scrambled for their flashlights, hands shaking too badly to find the switches. Outside their tent, something was moving. Something large.
"Pack everything," Steve hissed. "Now!"
They threw belongings into backpacks with desperate efficiency, not caring about organization. Whatever had made that sound, they wanted to be far away from it.
"Do you think it's a demon?" Evan gasped as they ran, branches whipping at their faces in the darkness.
Steve's wild eyes reflected his own terror. "I... I don't know!"
Behind them, the forest was coming apart. Trees that had stood for decades crashed down like dominoes, the sound of splintering wood mixing with something else—something that might have been laughter.
CRACK! CRASH!
"It's over," Evan gasped, risking a glance backward. Through the gaps in the trees, he caught glimpses of something that his brain refused to process properly. Black and red, too large, moving with purpose. "It seems to be coming towards us."
Steve saw his friend's expression and made a decision born of equal parts courage and stupidity. "I'll hold it back! You run first!"
He planted his feet, turning to face whatever nightmare pursued them. For a moment, Evan saw him as the hero Steve had always wanted to be—brave, self-sacrificing, larger than life. Then reality reasserted itself as Steve stood there, trembling like a leaf, holding a pathetic folding knife like it might matter.
Evan grabbed his friend's shoulder. "I said I'm staying, don't try to persuade me," Steve insisted, misreading the gesture.
But Evan wasn't trying to persuade him of anything. His face had gone white as fresh snow, eyes fixed on something over Steve's shoulder. When Steve asked why he looked like he'd seen death itself, Evan could only point with a shaking finger.
Steve turned around slowly, the way people do when they know something terrible waits but can't stop themselves from looking.
The creature stood ten meters away, having appeared without sound despite its size. Three meters of writhing darkness shot through with veins of crimson, shaped vaguely like a man but wrong in every way that mattered. Too many teeth in a mouth that smiled too wide. Eyes that burned with intelligence far beyond animal cunning. Claws that looked capable of peeling cars like oranges.
( IMAGE HERE )
Every instinct screamed at them to run, but their bodies wouldn't respond. This was a predator so far beyond them on the food chain that their primitive brains simply shut down rather than process the impossibility.
"Why are you running?"
The voice came in stereo—one track human and almost friendly, the other something from nightmares given sound. The contrast made it worse somehow, like finding a corpse that still smiled.
Steve's knife fell from nerveless fingers. Evan's legs gave out, dropping him to his knees. This was how they died—not from exposure or wild animals, but from something that shouldn't exist outside humanity's darkest fears.
The creature tilted its head, studying them with what might have been curiosity. When it spoke again, amusement colored both voices:
"I'm not going to eat you. Usually."
(End of Chapter 116)
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