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Chapter 8 - The Survivor

The chamber where I'd defeated the storm-being was nothing but broken crystal and fading sparks now. My body ached with every breath, but the system kept pulsing, violet text crawling across the broken interface like it was alive.

System Reward: Unique Equipment Manifested.

[Stormrender]: A black blade infused with purple lightning. Devours energy, strengthens with each battle.

[Veil of Defiance]: Black coat with blue trim, formed from crystallized storm essence. Increases resistance, amplifies lightning affinity, intimidates weaker enemies.

[Ashura's Raiment]: Black shirt and pants, bound to the vessel's essence. Adapts to physical growth and energy levels.

System Note: These items are bound. They cannot be removed.

The sword appeared first. Black as obsidian, the blade shimmered with faint purple cracks like veins of fire beneath stone. When I gripped the hilt, it hummed, almost like it was greeting me.

The clothes came next. I shed the shredded mercenary rags and slipped into the storm-forged attire. The coat draped across my shoulders, light yet heavy with presence, the collar's blue glow faint in the dark.

For the first time in my life, I didn't look like a boy pretending to be a hunter. I looked like something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

But the rewards weren't just weapons or clothes.

The system pulsed again.

Unique Attribute Expansion: Purple Lightning.

Devour: Absorb elemental attacks to replenish energy. Break: Pierce through magical defenses, ignoring resistance. Stormcall: Create localized thunder zones. Power scales with Willpower. Resonance: Purple lightning adapts, learning from enemies' skills it devours.

System Trait: Undefined Rank. Cannot be measured by standard appraisal. Evolution unknown.

I sank against the ruined monolith, sword resting beside me, coat fluttering in the unnatural breeze.

The timid boy who begged for scraps, who let healers mock him, who nearly died to a slime… he was gone.

I wasn't invincible. Not yet. But I wasn't prey anymore.

For the first time, I stared at my reflection in a fragment of crystal. My eyes glowed faint violet. And I smiled.

Not humble. Not grateful. Just… arrogant.

I had taken the storm and made it mine.

I stayed one more day in the dungeon, testing every skill, every spark of lightning until my body could bear the weight. My lightning wasn't just a weapon anymore — it was alive, flowing with my heartbeat.

When I finally approached the exit, the dungeon itself shuddered, as if reluctant to let me go. But the storm did not resist. It parted.

And I stepped into the light.

Outside the Dungeon

The world was waiting.

The dungeon's entrance was ringed with soldiers, guild leaders, priests, even continent-ranked hunters who had come to observe. Dungeons that closed their gates always caused panic, especially when none of the original raid party returned. Weeks had passed. Everyone assumed the raid had failed.

Whispers filled the air.

"Do you think anyone's alive?"

"Not a chance. That storm swallowed them whole."

"Then why hasn't the dungeon collapsed?"

They were waiting for corpses.

Instead, they saw me.

I stepped out slowly, coat swaying, sword at my side, eyes burning faint violet under the sun.

Silence fell over the crowd.

Not awe. Not respect. Just shock.

One of the guild leaders finally found his voice.

"…Impossible. He's alive?"

Another muttered, "He's just a mercenary boy. He wasn't even awakened…"

I ignored them. My boots hit the ground with steady steps. I wasn't here to entertain their questions. I just wanted to go home — to my mother, to my sister. The rest of them? Background noise.

But powerful men hate being ignored.

A continent-ranker stepped forward, his robes humming with authority. His eyes glowed as he cast appraisal.

"Let us see the measure of this survivor."

His expression darkened. His voice cracked.

"…Error. N/A."

The crowd stirred.

"Error? That's for unawakened trash."

"But he's standing right there with a blade and that aura—"

"No… that's not error. That's something else."

The ranker tried again. The result didn't change.

N/A. Undefined.

I felt irritation bubbling. Weeks in the storm, fighting for every breath, and this was their reaction? To treat me like some glitch?

I smirked, tilting my head, my coat's collar catching the sunlight. "If your little trick can't read me, maybe it's not me that's broken."

Gasps. Whispers.

The ranker scowled. "Boy, do you have any idea who you're talking to—"

For a heartbeat, I wanted to throw hands. To show them what real lightning looked like. My fingers twitched with sparks, my sword humming in my grip.

But I exhaled, forcing the storm down. Not now. Not for them.

I turned my back on the entire assembly.

"Tell your guilds, your gods, your continent leaders whatever you want. I don't care. I'm going home."

And with that, I walked away — the storm's shadow trailing behind me, leaving silence and fear in my wake.

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