Vikram stormed into the village, his grip on the axe tightening until it felt like an extension of his will. A pair of wings aching to unfold. Without hesitation, he cleaved through the [Zealous Zombie], the grotesque creature collapsing with a hollow thud, its bones twitching as if trying to remember life.
The moment he entered the Halfling challenge, the world turned savage.
His axe danced like a reaper's scythe. Each swing carved through twisted bodies, flesh and sinew parting with disturbing ease. His breathing was harsh but steady. His eyes didn't waver. One by one, he brought down every midget that dared to confront him, blood staining his skin like warpaint.
When the last of them fell, silence pressed in from all sides. The air was thick, humid with the copper tang of death. Vikram stood still, drenched in blood, his chest rising and falling. Crimson light burned behind his eyes.
He looked at the corpses, these creatures that had once...
He gritted his teeth, nearly snapping the wooden haft of the axe. His rage threatened to pull him under, but he forced it down, exhaling slowly.
Now, with no enemies in sight, it was time to search.
He moved through the village with methodical calm, peering into abandoned homes, overturned baskets, and shattered pottery, looking for anything of meaning.
[You have collected Mayfly Grass.]
The interface buzzed to life with a small pop-up. He ignored it and kept searching.
[You have collected Fire Script Scroll.]
He paused. Unlike grass, a scroll meant utility. He examined it, then made the mistake of tearing it.
[You have been slain.]
The screen cut to black, and Vikram couldn't help but laugh.
"Of course the thing called 'fire' would explode. Nice going, genius."
He reset, ran the same route again, collecting with more caution this time:
[You have collected Mayfly Grass.][You have collected Fire Script Scroll.][You have collected the Talisman of Steel Skin.]
He remembered something else. Back when he'd been impaled, he'd seen a glint buried beneath the rubble. This time, he made a beeline for that home.
First, he hacked the wooden stake into splinters.
"That's what you get, you damned spawn of the devil!"
He grinned, shaking his head. After rummaging through the rubble, he found it. A black gourd, accented with gold. Its surface was carved with twisted, anguished faces, grotesque and lifelike enough to send a shiver down his spine.
Still, he reached for it.
[You have found the Divine Artifact: The Nether River Gourd.][Do you wish to bind it to your soul?]
He hesitated. For a breath. Then willed yes.
A pulse of light erupted. Black and gold threads of energy spun around him, crackling, entering his body. The gourd vanished from his hand.
He willed it back, and it reappeared in his palm like it had always been part of him.
In the corner of the room, a tattered piece of paper caught his eye. He picked it up. The script was strange, foreign, but something inside him understood.
[I really want to go to...The... Elder is too boring. Everything... restrictive. I will be a star...I... Hammer and An... ...Really will....~!]
Most of it was gibberish, fragments, but enough to make his skin crawl.
"Yeah! Give me more cryptic shit! That's just what I need in my life," he muttered.
With the outer village mostly explored, he pressed on toward the inner village.
'To hell with this damned game.'
[Neurotic Infernal]
The clinking of metal and shattering glass echoed through the alleys. More of those damned imps were coming, but this time, they were different.
[You have been slain.]
Vikram blinked.
"Guess they don't like being called short."
[You have been slain.]
Their forms were mostly the same, but something had shifted. Their frenzy. Their power. Their madness. Even the air seemed to pulse with chaos.
So Vikram tried a different tactic. Lure them all into a single zone. And sure enough, the horde grew. Two, three mages. Zombies. A whole damn mess of them.
'This is going to be really...'
[You have been slain.]
Back to square one. Vikram opened his panel:
[Name: Vikram Rathore][Existence: Pre-Existence][Realm: None (Supreme Foundation)][Souls: 235]
[Techniques:]• Axe Throwing Technique (Entry Level)• Breath of the Crimson Pulse (Minor Accomplishment)• Ironbreaker's Axe Form (Minor Accomplishment)(!)
[Items:]• The Nether River Gourd• Fire Script Scroll• Talisman of Steel Skin• Medicinal Herbs and Plants
He increased his Strength stat to 3. As he turned to leave, another prompt surprised him:
[Do you wish to fill The Nether River Gourd?]
"Yes."
[It will take 200 souls to fill The Nether River Gourd.]
He accepted.
The gourd hovered in front of him, glowing. The souls lifted from his body, flowing into the artifact like water into a bottomless well. The faces carved into it lit up, one by one.
He caught it as it fell back into his hand. There was weight to it now. Sloshing, heavy, ominous.
Another prompt blinked.
[Do you wish to fill The Nether River Gourd?]
He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes...?"
[It will take 800 souls to fill The Nether River Gourd.]
"...Right. Maybe later."
He exited the statue screen, took a breath, and stepped forward.