I struggled for breath. It felt as though I was inhaling a viscous liquid instead of air.

Years had passed. Perhaps more. But that was just an aspect I added to the Mental World to keep my senses grounded; time didn't matter here.

What mattered was my mental power and, at the current moment, it was strained.

I didn't know how many times I fought with the creature, no, I knew—four hundred and fifty-six thousand eight hundred and seventy-two spars in total.

All of which ended with me getting my body torn apart. The exhaustion from each battle carrying on to the next.

I was tired.

And it showed.

“...I can't wait to devour you once more,” the Hearthborne said, snickering gleefully.

She suddenly launched herself towards me like a bullet using her tendrils, ramming her two feet on my chest and sending me flying.

I cried out as I flew off, crashing into a hut. My ribs shattered, digging into my lungs and heart.

The simulation ended. And I was standing back on my feet, facing the growling monster.

I trembled under the sheer exhaustion, grasping my soul. “I-, I can't anymore… Br-, break…” the buildings and monster faded away at my command, returning to darkness.

The feeling of pins and needles piercing my skin became more intense. My skin seethed, and my organs felt like they were rapturing.

This pain that suddenly exploded, numbing the mental fatigue I felt, was something I knew all my life.

I bit my lip, slowly hugging my body into a fetal position. It hurt. The unbearable anguish tore through my psyche, breaking it asunder. All my insecurities began to resurface, old traumas flickering into my mind.

The Mental World creaked, twisting in different ways, smells, colors, and sounds. A kaleidoscope of colorful shapes spinning themselves on crooked axes, and inverting between impossible angles filled my vision.

“...I…am not giving up.”

The pain surged intensely as if it were disagreeing.

My mental body trembled, pieces of light cracking off my skin, sparkling around me as golden flakes.

You're resting, then? A cold voice rang past the chaos, overflowing my mind. …Still the same pathetic worm. Just as—

“Shut it!” I yelled, willing the Hearthborne and village back. The pain searing on my skin vanished, and the back of my brain felt as though it were melting slowly.

I swayed, brain reeling in my skull. The figure of the creature was shrouded by a blurry, undulating aura. She studied me, noting my state.

Shaking my head, I degenerated my consciousness to that of a normal man, the metaphysical senses I felt dimming…my ability to predict and control the Hearthborne's movements disappearing.

I slowly took a few steps back, muscles throbbing in protest to every movement, watching my footwork.

Jyrin Street Boxing held a great importance on fast, purposeful strikes that targeted vital areas of the human body. Throat, head, joints, groin, eyes…all things the beast in front of me could heal immediately.

I sighed, trying to focus my shaky vision. ‘It's not like I have the speed to land my attacks.’

In the end, at the very least, I could depend on the elegant—yet boorish—footwork to reserve energy by cutting off useless muscle movements.

Slowly, my vision narrowed, trained on the old lady. Taking a deep breath, I absorbed the golden, translucent fog enshrouding my body, recalling why I was doing this: to minimize Soulsparking.

I shivered, just thinking about using the skill left me rattled. The feeling of it…as if I were setting myself on fire to keep warm.

The Heartborne moved. She was predictable, sending a tentacle to my head, keeping her stance low.

The side of my face stung, a sharp tendril slicing up from my chin to my forehead. It burned, the pain enough to slow my steps as I paced back.

She didn't miss that. With a rigid movement, the thing lurched back; shooting numerous tentacles from her back forward.

I jumped back, then pushed myself against a nearby building, flipping through the air. The small house crumbled, tentacles of hardened blood ripping through the walls. And they didn’t lose momentum, whipping at me a second later.

Cursing, I pushed myself against the damp dirt with my hands, launching my body meters above the ground. The tendrils blasted against the earthen floor, missing me by a hair.

While airborne I twisted my body, catching sight of the creature in the periphery of my vision, then I swept my foot toward her face; smashing a heel into her disfigured face.

The thing let out a cry in surprise, embedding several centimeters into the ground. I didn’t let her gather ‘her’ wits, and stomped down at her chest, returning the favor from a moment ago.

She blanched painfully, her tendrils swelling stiff, raking at my rear.

I didn’t let her half-assed attack reach me, rolling forward. The creature was on me almost instantly, contorted her body bizarrely as she sprung in my direction.

Claws—black, jagged things as sharp as daggers—thrusted for my eyes, then everything faded black.

I woke to a space of darkness.

‘Again.’

How many times did I die to that same strike?

I sighed, killing that thing without Soulsparking was proving…hard in my current state. I need to increase my base stats if I want to beat it.

Another sigh.

That’s if I wake up.

My skin burned, searing with self-loathing. Weak… something deep within me whispered, echoing my inner voice. …Weak…

Gritting my teeth, I invoked Cognitive Eidolon, using the skill’s power—and every bit of my will—to ignore the call of madness. It muted but didn’t vanish, looming over my consciousness.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I ignored it, willing the skill info of Soulsparking to fill my vision.

Skill Card

Skill: Soulsparking

Skill Rank: Silver

Skill Level: 1

Skill info:

* Increases base Strength stat by 500

* Increases base Endurance stat by 800

* Increases base Agility stat by 355

* Regeneration [+250 Vitality]

* Bloodcasting

* Intent Awareness

Note: All perks are voided the skill is deactivated.

Caution: The skill burns your soul—your Essence—to fuel the aforementioned perks.

“...I thought as much,” I mumbled, waving the skill away. The translucent screen rippled and shook wavily, then dissipated into nothing. Or maybe it was still there, but just beyond my fields of perception.

Shaking my head, I stopped myself from thinking too much about the Statblock and its mechanisms, staring into the static darkness.

This little expedition couldn’t have ended worse. Reflecting on the things I’d seen and done in the past few hours, I realized I was being too brash with my actions. Take time. Observe, then manipulate. Right now, I was but a babe, so ignorantly plowing forward was foolish.

I could be a better version of myself. The very thought sent a frisson down my spine. Perhaps, with the magics of this world, I could…finally become a perfect being?

***

A small, delighted breath left my lips as I woke up, despite the ache at the back of my head. I blinked away the tears at the corner of my eyes, lithely inspecting the room I found myself in.

It was fairly small, the only furniture present was the bed I was currently laying on, and the chair beside that. Sunlight streamed into the room through the wooden window slats, illuminating the tidy floors.

I brought my attention to the bandages wrapped around most of my body, apprehensively noting the garishly crimson symbols doodled on them.

Flexing a finger, I understood my body was too stiff and numb for free movement. ‘How annoying.’

A few dozen minutes passed as I tried to sit upright, failing each time. My body simply failed to respond.

I let out a frustrated huff, feeling for my arms, annoyed at the feeling that they weren't connected to my shoulders.

The door creaked open, and I forced myself to calm down, looking at the young woman entering the room.

She showed a terse smile, a tray of bottles and ointments in her hand. “...You're already up, Hunter,” she said, walking closer stiffly.

“That seems to be the case,” I replied, eyeing her. She wore a brown, soft fabric that cut off halfway down her calf and a loose, buttoned blouse. Her hair and eyes were a jet-black that gluttonously sucked in light. “How long was I out for?”

“Four days,” the youth said with a strange amount of deference in her voice, sitting on the chair beside the bed on my right side, and placing the tray on the floor. She elevated my head a bit, lubricating the bandages wrapped around most of my skull with an oily balm.

Dear Sein… I thought with a morbid sense of horror. They shaved my curly locks! And I just got them back… Without revealing the dread within my soul, I replied, “...That long, huh.”

The girl raised a brow, staring at me belligerently. “...Long? You were supposed to be out for a few weeks at the least.”

I fell silent, watching her treat me. Her fingers were deft, rubbing the smelly ointment on the glyphs drawn onto the wrappings. She looked up, locking her eyes on mine as I stared curiously at her, and flushed.

“Please stop staring!” she said, half-annoyed, half-intimidated. “I can feel your gaze against my skin!”

I blinked very slowly, taking in her expression, then chuckled. “Not much I can do right now except stare, young lady.”

Her pale cheeks reddened visibly, eyes darting away. “Still…” she muttered meekly, “...your gaze is entailing too much Intent. A simple glance is like hearing an intimate, perverse thought. It's…” she shook her head, leaving me both bemused and curious.

“My apologies,” I said earnestly. “I don't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“...It's quite alright.” She tucked a few straying strands of hair behind her ear, then dipped a finger into the bottle of balm. “As you said, not much you can do about it, except maybe not be so… creepy?”

I didn't quite know what I'd done to make her skin crawl so but chose to change the subject. “Irregardless, may I know your name?”

“Oh,” she breathed, tracing an oily finger along the lines of a triangular sigil. “It's Astrette… Yours?”

“Renith,” I responded briefly, voice growing quiet. “Tell me, Astrette, why are you doing this?”

“What?” Astrette asked, pausing. “Helping you? The one that killed Old Kealira?” her voice slowly grew distant, cold. “I suppose it's our way of showing respect for the court's benevolence. Sending a Hunter this far east—beyond the Inlands? ”

I opened my mouth, not entirely sure how to respond. “Were you…friends with the creature?”

Astrette's expression hardened. “Friend's with a Corrupted?” she said, shivering. “Did the trauma to your head make you lose your mind, Hunter? No sane person would befriend those things.”

“Then?” I asked, letting a healthy amount of alert and suspicion fall into my voice. “What was your tantrum about?”

She didn't respond, going back to maintaining the bandages. I watched her, a tiny bit annoyed. Both at her silence and my lack of common sense regarding the matters of my new world.

“I will let my master know of your condition,” Astrette said.

Sighing softly, I let my gaze drift to the ceiling, the sound of the door clicking close reaching my ear.

What was that? The shift in her mood was concerning, to say the least. Being treated by someone mentally imbalanced didn't bode well with me…but, well, did I have a choice?

I don’t like this, I thought, frowning. It seems I keep getting subjected to the whims of others.

First Sein, then the old monster, and now I’m at the mercy of strangers?

I felt my chest tighten.

The door suddenly flung open, smacking the other side of the wall audibly. My heart quivered, the blood in my veins congealing instinctively.

“Enough, Darson!” Astrette said, quickly moving between my bed and the man that forced the door open. “Now's not the time!”

“You said he was up, didn't you?” Darson asked laxly, peeking in my direction. He showed a smile, scratching his scraggly beard. “Ha! I see! Now I'm certain!” he lifted a flask and let out a hearty laugh. “He sure looks healthy enough for a drink!”

Astrette gave me a look of indignation, then turned back to the man—who I now recognized as the lead guard that prevented my initial attempt at entering the village. “...Fine,” she finally said, moving to sit on the chair. “Give me the flask.”

“Of course, of course,” Darson said, walking to the other side of the bed, stretching out, and handing her the flask. He grinned at me. “How're ya feeling, friend?”

Astrette sat me upright, shooting the strange man an irritated glare.

“What's going on?” I asked, slowly relaxing, my heartbeat returning to normal.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Astrette sighed, slightly leaning back in her seat. She nodded at the man. “This oaf's been coming here every day—won't say why. Says it's personal.”

Confused, I let my gaze fall on the man. He feigned a cough, looking embarrassed.

“Please, have a slug of wine,” Darson said, an awkward smile twisting at his lips. “By the Records, it's the best alcohol you'll find in the Outlands!”

“I don't drink. Not with strangers.” Hearing what I said, Astrette placed the flask on the floor. “What business do you have with me?”

Darson looked away, seemingly bothered. “I… wanted to apologize,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “For obstructing your entry that day. I acted in ignorance—clueless to what you were and of your goals.”

“What do you think I am?” I probed, my voice without much emotion.

Darson glanced back at me, frowning. “I think you're a Hunter, are you not…?” a look of realization washed over him. “On that day, you mean…” he sighed. “I thought you were a Corrupted. And can you blame me? How should I have known you dyed your hair…?”

He stared ahead, eyes growing distant. “If I had known… Ah, but that doesn't matter now. Please, accept my apology.”

“...Right,” I said softly. “You needn't fret about such a simple thing.”

“Thank you,” Darson said, letting out a relieved breath, a smile barely visible beneath his unkempt beard. He gestured for Astrette to hand him his wine, then took a long sip. “Are you sure you don't want to wet your throat?”

I nodded despite the dryness in my mouth, turning to my young nurse who watched the entire exchange with an odd expression. Noticing my gaze, she stood up.

“My master went out for a bit,” she said, motioning for Darson to get out. “It's the primary reason this dolt was able to force his way in… But I'm sure it's alright for me to get you a glass of water without her permission—if you would prefer that instead.” She stared, as if trying to ask if that was fine with her eyes.

“That would be appreciated.”

Astrette gave a firm nod, then left, scuttling Darson along; the man screaming something about a party. When they eventually left, I was alone once more with my thoughts—utterly confused.