Edge’s chains reared back and struck, the metallic ripple of link against link reverberating across the stone chamber.

This time, they had to fight harder, struggling to work their way through the monster’s flesh before sliding below its skin.

The mysterious manifestations wormed their way into the shadowreaver’s chest, sinking into its core. His mind tried to follow along, before something got in the way. Skill-Eater was holding him back, shielding Edge from whatever was inside, warning him that it was dangerous in a way that he wasn’t ready to understand.

He couldn’t watch, but he could still feel what his chains were up to. He had the sense that they were rooting around for something juicy, like bloodhounds on the scent of a tasty treat. The hunger that broke over him when they found what they were looking for was stronger this time. His core was impatient, eager to feed, vibrating in his chest like he’d swallowed a beehive.

He noticed that he was drooling. In that moment, he was struck by the realization that he was standing beside two gore-studded bloodstains in the middle of a monster-infested ruins, and he didn’t even care. All he could think about was eating his next skill.

Edge wasn’t sure what to do with that insight. How he should feel about what was happening. What he should want and who he should be. Everything was so strange. So intense. So new. He had become something that he couldn’t even have imagined just a few short minutes ago.

All such thoughts were driven from his head when the chains went in for the kill. He had an impression of them cornering a giant eyeball with a piercing stare. The power the monster had used to scan them when it first appeared.

The chains wrapped around the eye, then paused, like they were arguing with one another.

They almost started pulling it out when they caught a whiff of something better. Something Skill-Eater wanted so badly that Edge could taste it on his lips. It sharpened his desire to the point where he wasn’t sure he could resist. Not that he had any reason to try.

This skill was something different. Something that could change his life forever. Something too potent to [Extract] on his own.

His Guide appeared of its own accord, flashing a message in front of his face.

To extract a rare skill, you must sacrifice two mortium.

Would you like to proceed?

“Yes,” he replied. There was no hesitation at all.

By now, Edge wanted the reaver’s skill just as much as his core did. Even if he hadn’t, he was afraid of what would happen if he denied Skill-Eater its prey. He had gotten more than he’d bargained for when he’d bound his core, but that was a problem for another day.

It was a deal he would have been happy to accept regardless. While a mortium was a fortune by his current standards, obtaining a rare skill was priceless.

The moment that he agreed, power congealed around his body, coursing through the ground and air. It surged into his core a heartbeat later, stoking the reactor to a white-hot flame. This was something different from the planet’s magic. A type of power granted directly by the System instead. He couldn’t begin to unravel its nature, but the effect was clear as day.

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In the blink of an eye, the might of his chains multiplied. They struck in an instant and wrapped around their target. The living links pulled themselves taut, but it wasn’t enough. The reaver’s skill was fighting back.

He could sense that he had to act fast, or he’d lose the chance, so he added his efforts to Skill-Eater’s. Edge pulled with every scrap of strength in his body, digging in his heels and tugging as hard as he could.

Unleashing a primal scream, he willed the chains to retract, dragging something dark and formless out of the shadowreaver’s chest. He couldn’t wait to devour the skill, but there was one more thing that he had to do first.

While the chains were still slithering back across the floor, Edge rushed forward. He picked up his knife along the way and drove into the monster’s neck, stabbing it over and over again. No matter what happened, he had to make sure it was dead.

You have slain an enemy and gained experience.

You have accumulated sufficient experience to cycle-up your core. Your new cycle is [2].

You have accumulated sufficient experience to cycle-up your core. Your new cycle is [3].

Rancid black blood spurted out, covering him in inky vitae. It was utterly revolting, but he barely even noticed the smell. By this point, every scrap of his attention was focused on the skill struggling to break free from Skill-Eater’s embrace.

Edge dismissed another message from his Guide without stopping to read it. He had something more important to deal with right now. His chains threw the skill into his mouth, then retracted through his wrists.

The moment that he closed his lips, a battle began between his jaws.

It felt like shadowy moths were fluttering between his gums, but he couldn’t acquire a taste. Spurred on by his core, he kept trying to bite. But this time it wasn’t so simple. The skill passed through his teeth like wisps of smoke, leaving him chomping at air. This power was far more potent than any of the others. It was exhausting Skill-Eater to keep it trapped in that form.

He could sense that his window was closing. That he had to start chewing or [Extraction] would fail. That he’d lose the rare skill and the mortium too.

Acting on instinct, Edge rolled up the sides of his tongue, creating a shape like a bowl. The next time that the skill flew above it, he brought his tongue up fast, trapping the shadow moths like he was casting a net.

They tried to break free from his fleshy embrace. Before they could push their way past, he pressed up hard, crushing them against the roof of his mouth. I’ve got you now.

He chomped down twice and then swallowed hard, as the flavor of twilight broke over his tongue. A taste of damp places and unseen faces. Of spaces behind and below. A sumptuous delicacy that put the other skills he’d eaten to shame.

A wave of relief broke over him when it slid down his throat and entered his core, setting his body tingling with anticipation.

It would be an understatement of monumental proportion to say that Edge was excited to acquire his first rare skill. Each second stretched on and on as he waited for Skill-Eater to finish digesting its meal.

He waited a bit longer, and then waited some more. But nothing had happened after five minutes had passed. What in the world is wrong? When Edge thought to check his updates, he found the answer waiting among his notifications.

You have extracted a rare skill (unidentified, rank 1).

It will take two days to digest it.

During this period, you may not use [Extraction], although its charges will refresh.

He let out a sigh of relief. While it was a bit anticlimactic, at least nothing had gone wrong. It made sense that there were limits and rules to what Skill-Eater could do. Unique or not, his core was still stage-zero after all. Fair enough, I suppose. I can’t wait to see what it is.

In that moment, his exhaustion caught up with him. The adrenaline from his close brush with death drained away, leaving only fatigue behind. He wasn’t surprised. He’d pushed himself harder over the last half hour than he had in his life, straining the limits of both body and mind.

Now that Edge wasn’t fighting for each breath, it was time to pay the price. First we eat and then we sleep, and then we’ll eat some more.

He realized that being intensely elated and incredibly exhausted at the same time was making him loopy. He sat down with his back against the wall, then buried his head between his knees. He didn’t have enough energy to move away from the reaver’s rank remains, not that he smelled much better himself.

He closed his eyes and drifted away. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected to fall asleep beside the corpse of a man-eating monster. But that was exactly what happened.

Less than five minutes later, Edge sank into a deep and dreamless slumber, and then he knew nothing at all.