Aeron stepped into his room, the door clicking shut behind him with a low, final thud. The encounter with the elf still lingered in his mind—the look in her eyes when his power had taken hold, the way her strength had buckled beneath it. He sat on the edge of his bed, breath steady but heavy, the silence pressing in like a weight.
The book was already awake.
"She has a very compatible body," it said calmly, as if commenting on the weather. "One that will be invaluable to you in the future. You'll absorb everything later."
Aeron's eyebrow arched. "Oh, so like fattening a cow before butchering it, right?"
"You're getting it," the book replied, a faint hint of amusement threading through its tone.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, his mind ticking. The idea didn't disturb him—it intrigued him. Every connection, every discovery, was a step closer to his goal. "Alright," he said finally, voice steady. "I want to explore poison."
There was a flicker in the air, and a small vial appeared before him, hovering lazily. Inside, a murky green liquid swirled, thick and almost alive. "Let's start with this one," the book said. "Oh, and by the way—you're up to 1,500 points now. Using your skills on that girl and identifying her potential rewarded you."
Aeron ignored the explanation, eyes fixed on the vial. "So this is poison."
"Yes," the book confirmed. "Guess what it's for."
He frowned. "I'm guessing… not tea."
"This is called Fleshrot," the book continued. "It causes the skin to decay and slough off, exposing raw flesh. Its potency grows, but there's a catch—it only works if you pour it on yourself… and survive."
Aeron turned the bottle in his hand, studying the way the viscous liquid clung to the glass. "So I just pour it on myself?"
"Exactly. Surviving it will push your body to new limits. It will change how your nerves, your cells, your energy respond to pain. And in doing so, you'll evolve."
He sat in silence for a long moment. The idea was insane, but so was he. Pain was something he had long studied, dissected, even envied for the way it defined the living. Now, it was his turn to face it.
He uncorked the vial. The scent hit him first—a sharp, acrid sting that burned his nostrils. He grimaced, but didn't hesitate. "Alright," he muttered under his breath. "Let's see what you've got."
He tipped the vial, letting the liquid spill across his arm.
At first, nothing. Then—
The pain hit.
It came like a wave of fire and acid, ripping through his nerves in an instant. Aeron's body jerked, his breath catching in his throat as he clamped his jaw shut. His skin began to blister, then crack, the sound wet and sharp in the silent room. He gritted his teeth, trying to breathe through it, but the poison didn't stop—it spread, racing up his arms, crawling across his chest.
He fell to one knee, a strangled sound escaping him. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Blisters ruptured. His skin peeled back in strips, exposing the bright red muscle beneath. His fingertips blackened, nails curling and falling away. The pain was beyond pain—it was annihilation.
His training, his detachment, his scientific calm—none of it mattered. Every nerve screamed. Every breath tore at his lungs. The poison was devouring him alive, layer by layer.
He could feel it in detail—his physician's mind identifying every stage of decay: the tissue breakdown, the exposed fascia, the agonized twitch of raw muscle trying to contract without skin to hold it. His arms spasmed uncontrollably. His chest burned as if his ribs were being pried apart.
His abdomen seized, the agony stabbing deep into his core. He knew the nerves there were dense—he'd taught that once, back when he was still human enough to care. Now, it was just another observation. The worst kind. His legs buckled, the skin sloughing off in damp, blackened sheets. His feet burned as if he were walking on molten metal, the soles peeling, nerves raw and screaming.
A lesser man would have fainted long ago. Aeron didn't. He refused to.
He clung to the pain like a lifeline, letting it fill him, reshape him, burn out what was weak. This was the cost of his ambition—the toll exacted by the path he had chosen. If immortality demanded suffering, then so be it.
The room was spinning now. His vision pulsed with black dots. The edges of reality blurred, the book's voice fading into static somewhere behind the roar in his head. His body convulsed once, twice—then went still.
Silence.
Then—breath.
A slow, shuddering inhale.
When Aeron opened his eyes again, everything was different. His skin had reformed, but no longer looked human. It gleamed faintly in the candlelight—smooth and dark, with veins of dull green pulsing beneath the surface. A thick, greenish gas coiled around him, hissing softly as it drifted through the air.
The scent was suffocating—rot, venom, and decay. Yet it didn't touch him. The poison had become part of him, a living extension of his will.
A notification flickered faintly before his eyes:
---
New Skill Unlocked: Plague Aura
Description: The poison becomes your breath. Those who approach are corroded by decay and pain.
Effects:
Constant release of toxic miasma.
Enemies within range take continuous damage and suffer nerve deterioration.
Immunity to all low-tier poisons and venoms.
Passive: Agony Resonance — Damage scales with inflicted pain.
---
Aeron stared at his hands. The trembling had stopped. The pain was gone—no, not gone. Changed. Controlled. He could feel it now, alive beneath his skin, ready to be unleashed. The poison hadn't broken him. It had crowned him.
The gas around him pulsed once, almost in recognition. He exhaled slowly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
"Pain," he said quietly. "Now we understand each other."
The book's voice returned, softer than before. "You survived. Barely. But you're closer now—to what you're meant to become."
Aeron didn't answer. He just looked at his reflection in the window—at the faint green glow in his eyes, the deathly calm in his expression—and knew the book was right.
He wasn't the same man anymore.
He was something else.
Something born from pain itself.