For ten days, the fruit had burned in his thoughts. He'd spent a whole month in the new world and he just knew that something like that was there, few days ago.
At first, when he first woke up, he thought rival gangs didn't actually killed him right and he pretended to be dead, but as the minutes tickled on, he finally realized that something was wrong.
Especially when he noticed that something that resembled a bat but with the face of a human was trying to bite his face off. He had fought it off with his own hands, managing to break its neck, but he received a deadly gash in his left arm for it.
Information from his host, the new body he was inhabiting flooded in and he didn't know if he should be pleased or cursed his luck.
He was now in the world of magic and sword. Mana and corruption.
Where a Tower hung in the sky and was the main source of the world's misfortune.
But worse, he woke up inside a Dungeon.
Now, he had seen a lot in his life, he was an homeless person that begged on the street, he stole and had killed before. He'd seen a lot of worse stuff.
But nothing compared to what he faced in the Dungeon. Thankfully, it seems to be a low ranked one and he was able to make his escape with a book.
And numerous wounds.
All that was one month ago when he first woke up. He got out of the Dungeon to find a ruined city, and he seems to be the only one alive.
If one did not count the numerous corrupted beasts and evil spirits.
He had since began to roam the city, scavenging for food and water. Slowly, he began to learn about the world and most especially, the book he found in the Dungeon.
The Arcane Art—Hand of the Demon.
The new world he found himself....was that of the Magus.
And the way to keep safe was to learn the Arcana art was to be a Magus, but it was a dangerous thing, the life of a Magus was one that's filled with death and danger.
He died once, so he began practicing.
But the days ago, when he was scavenging he saw something that he hadn't be able to keep away from his mind. It was in the middle of a smashed Dungeon.
A Silver fruit.
He saw it ten days ago, resting like a shard of the moon in the heart of the crumbled Dungeon, it was surrounded by monsters and evil spirits.
He had tried four times to get it.
This was his fifth attempt.
The first time, he had only watched from the shadows, counting the shapes that prowled around it, there was simply too many.
The second, he had tried to lure them away with the carcass of a dead beast, only for them to ignore it completely.
The third, he'd crept in under the cover of night, but their senses weren't dulled by darkness. They thrived in the darkness after all.
The fourth had ended in blood, his own, when one had darted closer than he'd expected, claws grazing his arm before he slipped away.
The curious thing about the fruit was that, the monsters were drawn to it but they couldn't get close for some reason. That alone was reason enough for him to try and get his hands on it.
But today…
Today he had a better route.
He crouched atop the collapsed frame of a wall, the rain dripping from his hood.
His pale eyes were locked on the ruin below. The roof had caved in long ago, leaving jagged beams like ribs jutting out of the stone. The floor was a graveyard of stones and shattered wood, but in the very centre… the fruit lay upon a mound of rubble, glowing with that same steady silver pulse.
It didn't just shine, it breathed in the surrounding mana, drinking any light around it.
The light seemed to push outward and pull back, like a tide. The monsters circling it twitched in time with that rhythm, drawn close but never daring to touch.
They were worse in daylight. The rain slicked their skin, revealing the full horror of their forms, limbs too long, spines bent at unnatural angles, skin mottled black and green from corruption.
Some skittered on all fours, others dragged themselves like broken marionettes. The air around them was thick with the stench of rot and iron.
Worse, some of them were humans.
Eldros studied their patterns. He had mapped their pacing in his mind, four steps between the rubble and the wall, three-second pauses near the beam on the left, a momentary gap when the largest of them turned away to snarl at the smaller ones.
His strategy today was to take advantage of their attention to the fruit to get his hands on te fruit.
He drew the black iron disc from his belt, running a thumb along the edge. It was a weapon he found somewhere in the city.
One good throw could clear the way, if it struck the right target.
The plan was simple, distract, dash, grab, retreat.
His muscles tensed as the gap approached.
He moved, slipping over the wall, feet finding the gaps between the stones. The rain masked the sound of his steps. He made it halfway before one of the monsters jerked upright. Its head twisted in an angle no neck should bear.
It stared straight at him.
Then it began giggling, wet, breathless, and wrong. He froze.
Why did it spot him? Shouldn't it be focused on the fruit?
The others froze. Then, in perfect unison, their heads turned toward him. The air shivered with a rising hiss.
Eldros's instincts screamed.
The first lunged, claws gouging the stone where he had been a heartbeat before. Another dropped from the beam above, missing him by inches. He ducked low, disc in hand, but there were too many. Their numbers filled the building like a flood.
One wrong move and the fruit would be the last thing he saw.
Grinding his teeth, he backed toward the wall, steps quick, the largest of them prowled forward, its milky eyes fixed on him, silver light from the fruit gleaming in the slime on its jaws.
He slipped through the gap in the rubble, boots splashing into a puddle outside. The cold rain was a relief against the heat of his own pulse. He didn't stop moving until he had put three alleys between himself and the ruin.
From the shelter of a collapsed shopfront, he looked back. The monsters had already returned to their circling, the fruit still pulsing untouched in the centre.
Eldros exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. He memorised the timing again, replaying every step in his mind.
Not today. Not yet.
He turned, vanishing into the rain, already planning his sixth attempt.