The dagger felt heavier than it should have as Anderson turned it slowly in his hand, not because of its weight, but because of what it represented, a weapon stripped of ceremony and excess, designed not to overwhelm an enemy but to dismantle them piece by piece, starting with the very power this world depended on.
Candlelight slid uselessly across the matte-black blade without reflection, as if the metal itself rejected attention, and when Anderson focused, allowing his enhanced perception to guide his awareness, the dagger's structure unfolded in his mind with uncomfortable clarity. The sigils etched along the blade were impossibly fine, layered in recursive patterns meant to collapse aether flow on contact, not draining it, not suppressing it, but breaking it outright, turning reinforced flesh and magical defenses into liabilities rather than advantages.
"So this is what you gave me," he murmured quietly, more to himself than to the system watching in silence.
Hunters in this world relied on reserves, on overwhelming force and endurance measured in raw numbers, but this blade existed for someone who assumed they would never have that luxury, someone who planned for close quarters, for desperation, for the moment when escape was no longer an option.
A faint sound reached him then, subtle enough that it might have been mistaken for settling wood if not for the way his perception sharpened instinctively, the world narrowing until distance, direction, and intent aligned in his mind.
Scraping.
Above the window.
Anderson stilled, breath slowing as he listened, the air near the glass beginning to distort as pressure built from the other side, the faint whine of stress fractures spreading across the pane like a warning written too late.
"It's now or never to test this new body," he whispered.
The window shattered inward in a violent spray of glass, cold night air flooding the room as a small figure hurled itself through the opening and landed in a crouch atop the table with a wet, chittering laugh. Candlelight flickered wildly as shadows twisted across the walls, revealing a lean, red-skinned imp with cracked horns curling backward from its skull, its wings shriveled and useless yet twitching constantly, as if remembering a function they no longer served.
Its yellow eyes locked onto him immediately, sharp with crude intelligence and hunger, and as Anderson's Analysis engaged fully, the information settled into his awareness without text or interruption.
Low-tier night creature.
Minor aether dependency.
High agility.
Low durability.
Still lethal.
The imp grinned, needle-like teeth glistening as it flexed its claws, and Anderson moved before it could speak or screech, stepping forward at the exact moment it launched itself at him, his timing guided not by instinct but by calculation, by the subtle adjustments his enhanced perception fed into his body.
The dagger flashed upward, grazing the imp's side as it passed, and the reaction was immediate and violent.
The creature shrieked mid-leap as its internal aether flow collapsed inward, wings spasming uselessly as its trajectory failed, its body slamming into the wall instead of sailing past him. Anderson pressed the advantage without hesitation, lunging forward to finish it, and immediately felt the cost of that decision ripple through his still-adjusting body.
His muscles overextended, core stability failing for just long enough to matter, and the imp twisted with unnatural flexibility, its claws raking across his lower abdomen in a spray of pain that burned hot and immediate.
He grunted, stumbling back as fabric tore and blood welled beneath it, multiple shallow scratches flaring angrily as bruising spread beneath the skin. The pain was sharp, distracting, but not chaotic, and as he forced his breathing to steady, his mind catalogued the damage with clinical precision.
Shallow lacerations… moderate bruising… no organ damage… mobility intact.
"Adjustment period acknowledged," he hissed through clenched teeth.
The imp recovered faster than expected, pushing off the wall and lunging again with a screech that rattled the glass still clinging to the window frame, and Anderson barely raised his arm in time, the dagger catching one claw with a jolt that sent shock through his entire body. He slammed back into the wall, breath exploding from his lungs as pain bloomed deep in his core, a heavy bruise forming beneath the already burning scratches on his abdomen.
For a moment, his vision darkened, the edges closing in as his heart struggled to keep pace with the strain.
Focus… now.
Analysis recalibrated instantly, tracking the imp's erratic movement patterns, its aggression increasing as it sensed weakness, overconfidence creeping into its attacks as it committed harder and faster with each strike.
Good.
Anderson let his posture sag slightly, allowed his breathing to sound ragged as he shifted his weight unevenly, and the imp took the bait without hesitation, launching itself forward in a reckless lunge aimed at his throat.
Anderson stepped into the attack.
The dagger drove upward beneath the imp's ribcage, the anti-aether sigils activating fully as the blade bit deep, and this time there was no scream, no explosion, only sudden, absolute collapse. The creature froze mid-motion, eyes widening in confusion as its internal energy unraveled, its body convulsing once as Anderson twisted the blade and ripped it free.
The imp crumpled to the floor, twitching briefly before its flesh began dissolving into foul-smelling ash that smoked faintly as it vanished, leaving behind nothing but silence and the sound of Anderson's heavy breathing.
[Rank 1 Imp Killed]
[Experience Accumulated]
[+5 Shop points]
He stood there for several seconds, chest heaving, dagger hanging loosely at his side as blood dripped slowly from his lower abdomen, warm against his skin. The pain was persistent now, a deep, aching throb layered beneath the sharper sting of the scratches, and he pressed a hand to the wounds, assessing, enduring.
Still alive.
Barely.
He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold floor, breathing gradually slowing as the system remained silent, offering neither praise nor warning, simply observing.
"That was barely acceptable," he muttered, disappointed in himself
The potion had strengthened him, but it hadn't finished its work, and his muscles trembled with lingering strain as his heart continued adjusting to its increased workload. Still, the result was undeniable, and as he looked down at the dagger in his hand, its blade stained with something that wasn't blood, the implications settled heavily in his mind.
Aether-dependent enemies were vulnerable… not to power, but to disruption.
Hunters, mages, night creatures.
Anyone who relied on aether had a weakness now.
Outside, the fog churned unnaturally, distant howls echoing through the streets as something else moved across the rooftops, drawn by noise, by blood, by opportunity.
Anderson pushed himself back to his feet despite the pain, posture unsteady but upright, and turned toward the shattered window, cold air spilling into the room as the night pressed closer.
By any reasonable standard, he should have died tonight.
Instead, he was standing… bloodied, bruised, and alive.
A faint smile crossed his lips.