Stabilizing himself, Klein forced his trembling legs forward again, sword clenched white-knuckled in his grip. His breath rasped raggedly in his chest, yet his eyes burned.
The woman before him — no, the monster — sidestepped lightly, a smile curving her lips, as if his desperate swings were the clumsy games of a child. Her dark hair swayed with the motion, her beauty almost divine, but her eyes glinted with a cruel amusement that stripped away any illusion.
Klein thrust, a savage lunge meant for her throat. Steel hissed through the air — close, so close — but she tilted her head with a smooth, effortless motion, causing the blade to miss her neck by a hair's breadth.
Her hand blurred, claws slicing for his gut. Klein bent backward, spine screaming, narrowly evading death, but then her other hand whipped forward, knuckles hard as stone.
He didn't have time to dodge.
The punch cracked against his face.
The world spun.
Blood filled his mouth, his lips split and bloodied. He tumbled backward, knees buckling, body crumpling until only the sword kept him from falling completely.
The woman chuckled, low and rich, walking forward with a predator's leisure.
"What's the point of struggling?" Her voice purred like honey poured over poison. "You've been abandoned by your family. Your affinity sealed. No path forward. No future. So why do you keep fighting?"
The words slithered into Klein's ears like knives, twisting deep into old wounds. His teeth ground. His chest heaved.
"You—!" The roar tore itself from his throat as he staggered upright, sword trembling as he swung it. Too slow. Too weak.
She slipped aside, her hand lightly brushing against the blade as if mocking him.
"Pathetic." She leaned in, lips curving in a mockery of tenderness. "Give in. Stay with me. I'll take away your pain."
Klein spat blood. "Fuck you, you ugly wench." His sword lashed again, desperate.
She laughed, the sound melodic, cruel. "Temper, temper. All the better. Breaking you will be delicious."
Her hand stretched forward, fingers curling as shadows coiled into existence, thick and writhing. They streaked toward him, black tendrils slamming against his flesh before he could retreat. Cold seeped into his skin. The shadows crawled, burying into muscle, slipping through veins, nestling in marrow.
[Warning, Abnormal Status Detected!]
[Condition: Corrosion]
[Severity: Fatal]
[Effect: Rapid degradation of cells]
Agony struck like lightning.
Klein screamed, body arching, vision flashing white. It was as if a thousand worms with burning teeth burrowed beneath his flesh, gnawing, clawing, devouring. His blood boiled in his veins. His bones ached as if they would crack open and spill his marrow.
But the worst of the pain was in his mind.
His skull felt like it was splitting down the middle, thoughts unraveling as madness slithered in. He clutched his head, nails scraping against his scalp.
"Fu fu fu..." The woman's laughter was bright as bells, each note a mockery of his pain. "Most crumble in seconds. But you — you endure. What a strong little toy. My Withering Madness has you now. It's only a matter of time before you beg."
Her steps clicked against the ground, graceful, inevitable. She stood before him, smile wickedly curved, eyes gleaming with triumph.
But then Klein lifted his head.
His lips peeled back, not in pain, but in a feral grin.
"Got you."
His sword lashed out with sudden, savage speed.
The steel pierced her throat, sinking deep.
Her eyes went wide, disbelief eclipsing smug delight. Her mouth opened, but no words came — only a strangled gasp.
Klein snarled, twisting the blade, ripping it across her neck.
Flesh parted. Blood sprayed.
She crumpled, dark hair splayed across the hall floor, smile frozen, eyes still wide with shock.
Klein staggered back, chest heaving, staring down at her corpse. He had won. Somehow, he had won. Not through strength, but through her arrogance, her belief that he was already broken. The curse still burned his veins, but it was nothing compared to betrayal, neglect, years of grinding his body against pain and despair. He had survived worse.
[Ding!]
[Abnormal Status Effect [Withering Madness] has been lifted.]
[Host demonstrated resistance beyond threshold.]
[Reward: Host has gained curse resistance.]
[Congratulations. Hidden requirement met.]
[Generating Affinity. Please wait...]
The words swam in his vision, meaningless against the roar of pain and exhaustion. His sword slipped from his fingers. His knees buckled. Darkness surged at the edge of his sight.
Is this it? The thought fluttered, faint. Is this as far as I can go? Pathetic.
And then — silence.
Klein collapsed, consciousness slipping away, his last sight the bloodied floor where his foe lay still.
***
The training yard pulsed with tension, as if the stone beneath their boots remembered every drop of blood spilled on it. Dust clung to the air, mingled with the sharp tang of iron and the faint, animal stink of fear. A row of cages loomed at the far end, their bars trembling as snarls and claws raked against iron.
Guards stood at intervals, armor polished to a sheen, hands resting firm on their weapons. Their gazes never wavered from the children in the yard. They knew too well—one mistake and blood would paint the stones.
"Release the beast."
The order rang like steel on steel, cutting the air.
A lever screeched down, followed by the groan of rusted hinges. One cage door yawned open, and from the darkness within came a horned hound, its body all muscle and hate. Its yellow eyes burned with feral hunger. Saliva hissed on the floor as it struck, claws tearing into stone as if it were soft earth.
It charged—not toward the guards, not toward the crowd, but toward the boy standing at the center.
Young Klein looked to be about sixteen. His hair tousled by the wind, a sword sheathed at his side, though he made no move to draw it. He stood still, almost too still, as though the oncoming monster were no more than a passing storm.
His hand rose. Fingers spread.
A magic circle burst into existence above his palm, radiant with spinning sigils and shifting runes that pulsed like veins of light. Another appeared overhead, vast and intricate, its symbols orbiting one another in a dance too fast for the untrained eye to follow.
The air shifted as mana gathered while he cast his spell.
Crack!
A spear of lightning screamed from the circle above, white-blue and blinding. It split the air in two, a stroke of heaven's fury descending upon earth.
The bolt struck the hound mid-charge.
The impact thundered across the yard, rattling cages, echoing deep into bone. The beast shrieked, its cry half-pain, half-rage, before it collapsed into convulsions. Smoke poured from its fur, the stench of scorched flesh filling the yard until throats clenched and eyes watered.
When the carcass finally fell still, it was nothing but a charred husk, its chest twitching faintly with the last sparks of death.
Silence followed.
Then—
"Gods… did you see that?" A boy whispered, his lips pale, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"He used an advanced spell. Perfectly," another stammered, his voice barely carrying. "It's only been two months since his awakening."
"Two months," a girl repeated, as if trying to convince herself the sight wasn't a dream.
"He's the Valemont heir," someone breathed. "The golden genius of our house. Who else could it be?"
The murmurs swelled, voices caught between awe and reverence. Some children looked away, shame written across their faces. Others could not tear their eyes from Klein, as if afraid the vision would vanish if they blinked.
"Excellent!"
The instructor's voice thundered, breaking the hush. The man strode forward, his face usually stern and cold now cracked by a rare grin. He gestured sharply at the carcass, still smoking on the floor.
"To annihilate such a creature with an advanced spell after mere months after your awakening—young master Klein, the heavens themselves smile upon you."
Nods rippled through the crowd. He was not just a talent; he was a prodigy. The pride of Valemont. A banner for others to follow.
But Klein's chest rose and fell evenly. His gaze lingered on the corpse, then drifted to the magic circle as it unraveled into fading threads of light. The cheers dulled in his ears, a distant hum. He forced a faint smile, bowed his head politely, and accepted their words without argument.
After a while, having completed what he came for, he left the yard, the murmur of the dispersing crowd fading behind him.
But then a familiar voice called out gently.
"Young master."
Elora waited outside the training hall, sunlight catching her blonde hair like strands of gold. Her blue eyes held warmth, admiration—something softer than the awe of the crowd. She dipped her head, though her lips curved with a faint smile not of duty, but of sincerity.
"You were magnificent," she said. "To wield such power with such ease… how many men older than you dream of the same, and fail?"
Klein chuckled, low, almost weary. "You praise me too much, Elora. It was only a bolt of lightning."
Her brow arched delicately, a spark of reproach in her gaze. "To command forces most magi struggle with after years just after two months of your awakening. No, young master. It is not nothing. It is brilliance, something only a genius like you could do."
His faint smile returned at her words, though it never reached his eyes. He turned, shifting the subject with the same ease he had deflected their praise.
"Come. My father requests my presence."
And without another word, Klein walked on, leaving the sound of the training hall behind.