The book hovered in the air before him, its surface pulsing faintly with a sickly green light. The faint remnants of the Plague Aura still lingered around Aeron, twisting through the air like mist reluctant to leave.
He stared at it, breathing slow and even. His body still ached, but the pain had dulled into something familiar—a steady reminder of what he had survived.
Then, the book spoke.
"There's another space," it said, its tone calm, as always. "One meant for poisons."
Aeron's brow furrowed. "Another space?"
"Yes. You've already tasted the surface of what pain can teach. In the Poison Land. There, every breath, every step, is a lesson in survival."
He stared at the book, weighing his options. "And let me guess," he said quietly. "It's going to try to kill me."
"Of course," the book replied evenly. "Growth rarely comes gently."
He exhaled slowly. "Figures."
Without another word, he placed his hand on the book's surface. The air rippled, the green light spreading up his arm, and the world around him dissolved.
A moment later, he was somewhere else.
The first thing he noticed was the air—it was heavy, toxic, and hot. Every breath burned. The ground beneath him was dark and cracked, veins of green liquid pulsing like blood through the soil. Above, the sky was veiled in a swirling haze of poison gas, its stench enough to make his head spin.
His lungs seized after the first inhale. He dropped to one knee, coughing violently. The poison didn't just linger in the air—it invaded. It seeped into his pores, crawled down his throat, burned through his veins.
Within seconds, his vision blurred. His skin began to prickle, the faint green veins beneath it flaring with light as if his own blood were being rewritten.
"Book," he gasped. "What—what is this?"
"This is the Poison Land," the voice echoed around him, distant and cold. "A world that tests your immunity and your control. You can't resist poison until you understand how it kills."
Aeron grit his teeth, trying to stay upright. Each breath felt like swallowing acid. His skin burned, his eyes stung, and his muscles spasmed violently. It felt as though something was eating him from the inside out.
He tried to take another breath and immediately regretted it. The poison filled his lungs, thick and viscous, like breathing in smoke made of acid. He coughed, blood spraying from his lips.
His body was failing.
He knew the signs—the slowing pulse, the way his fingers trembled, the cold creeping through his limbs. This was death, slow and certain.
"Eject," he rasped. "Now."
But then he stopped. His hand froze mid-motion.
Something inside him whispered—a quiet, stubborn voice that had carried him through countless trials.
If the poison wanted to kill him, then he'd use it.
He closed his eyes and reached inward, toward that lingering, pulsing power that still moved within his veins. The Plague Aura.
When he activated it, the air around him shifted violently.
A sudden pressure wave erupted outward, and his own poisonous miasma clashed with the land's toxic haze. For a brief moment, the air cleared around him—a thin circle of breathable space.
It wasn't safe. It wasn't painless. But he could breathe.
Every breath still burned like fire, but it no longer felt fatal. The poisons hissed and tangled around him, fighting for dominance, and somehow, his own aura was winning—barely.
He fell to one knee, clutching his chest. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and the veins in his arms glowed faintly green.
"So that's how it is," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I need poison to survive poison."
"Good," the book's voice murmured faintly. "You learn quickly."
Aeron didn't respond. He was too focused on keeping his aura stable. The more he concentrated, the more he could feel the poison bending around him, merging with his own corrupted energy.
Minutes dragged on. The pain never left, but his body began to adapt. His breathing steadied. The agony dulled into a steady thrum beneath his skin.
Then he opened his eyes—and saw something new.
Shapes moved in the mist.
Figures, humanoid and twisted, their bodies warped and half-melted by toxins. Their flesh dripped, their eyes glowed faintly green, and the air shimmered with the venom that radiated off them.
They were crawling toward him.
"The guardians of this land," the book explained. "Born from poison, sustained by it. Defeat them, and you'll claim what they protect."
Aeron stood, the faint green mist coiling tighter around him like armor. His body still hurt, but the pain was becoming fuel. Every nerve burned with purpose.
"Alright," he said under his breath, his voice steady again. "Let's begin."
The first of the creatures lunged, its form blurring through the gas. Aeron sidestepped, his movements fluid despite the haze. His scythe appeared in his hand, black and sleek, the blade humming faintly with death energy.
The creature struck again, claws dripping with poison. Aeron caught its arm mid-swing, his other hand gripping its neck. The Plague Aura surged, and the thing screamed as its flesh corroded under his touch, disintegrating into vapor.
More came. Dozens. Crawling, screeching, dissolving and reforming from the gas itself.
Aeron moved through them like a shadow. Every strike of his scythe left trails of decay. Every pulse of his aura melted flesh and bone. His pain was gone now—replaced by something colder, sharper.
Control.
For the first time, he wasn't just enduring the poison. He was using it.
When the last creature fell, the land fell silent again. The air shifted. The poisonous haze drew inward, coalescing into a single point before him—a core, glowing faintly green and pulsing like a heartbeat.
He reached out, touching it. The moment his fingers brushed its surface, the light flared.
A message appeared before his eyes:
---
New Skill Acquired: Venom Heart
Description: The essence of poison now resides within your core. You may absorb and refine toxins into energy.
Effects:
Passive regeneration from absorbed poison.
Immunity to medium-tier venoms.
Active ability: Toxic Conversion — Convert ambient toxins into Death Law energy.
---
Aeron lowered his hand slowly, the core fading into his chest. He exhaled, a faint green mist escaping his lips.
The poison still surrounded him, but now, it no longer threatened him. It belonged to him.
"Not bad," he murmured. "Guess that's another step."
"Indeed," the book said softly. "And this is still the beginning."
Aeron's gaze lingered on the horizon, where the toxic fog writhed like a living thing. Somewhere beyond it, he could feel another presence—a deeper pulse, stronger than anything he'd faced yet.
He tightened his grip on his scythe, the faint hum of power in his veins reminding him of who he was becoming.
The poison land was vast, hostile, and endless. But for the first time, he didn't fear it.
He was part of it now.