A young man clad in blackened steel armor fell to his knees and lurched forward, vomiting blood from his injured and worn insides. His messy, brunette hair covered his face with its long length and shook chaotically as his head jerked violently.
Michael tightly clenched the ground with his metallic gauntlets and stared at the loose dirt piling between his fingers still shining in the faint starlight. Even after drenching the dirt, he remained in his sorrowful position. It wasn't like he wanted to stay, his body was just refusing to continue onwards... or more like unable from all the spasming and exhaustion.
Most of the blood crawled up his body and returned to him, though there were still some that remained, refusing to listen to the weak boy.
After several seconds of him keeping his head down trying to turn his rapid breathing into long, deep breaths, he weakly pushed himself off the ground and stood on his feet. His head swayed and he nearly fell over, but he managed to stay upright.
It wasn't long before a mocking tone made him shiver.
"It was only a matter of time before your foolishness got you hurt."
His mother came from behind - seemingly from nowhere - as she spoke, taking slow, thoughtful steps down the winding dirt path with her hands behind her back. After making some distance, she turned around and cheekily tilted her head.
"Oops, I meant to say 'again', silly old me~"
Michael stood still, looking at her with a complicated face, one he wondered what looked like. Was he frowning? Grimacing? Maybe he was crying?
He couldn't tell, his face was too numb to really feel anything. It must've been quite the sight.
Michael averted his gaze from his mother and simply looked forward, soon taking a step. He hesitated to take another as he brushed against her, feeling her presence beyond the strands of hair covering his emerald eyes, but continued onwards.
Every stomp with his boots left a light imprint on the dirt and a subtle thud. That rhythmic sound was the only type of noise that wasn't trying to weasel into his ears and mangle his mind, something he sorely appreciated.
Who knew such a basic thing could be so sought after?
"Sweetie, that is really sad..."
A whirlwind of ethereal sparks circled in his hand, forming into a dagger as his head was shrouded in blood, solidifying into a helm soon covered by a tan cloak's hood. He turned to look over his shoulder, giving his mother an unreadable stare before surveying ahead at the horizon where the silhouette of the magnificent city stood.
Its towers and peaks were still no closer than they were before, even after walking for however many hours he spent under this nebulous night sky.
'Just how far do I have left?'
"Are you sure it's even real? It could very well be a mirage."
Michael abruptly stopped in his tracks, his head still locked onto the distance. It wasn't because of his mother's scornful tone, but because he noticed something. He squinted, straining his burning eyes to sharpen his vision.
Far ahead were a pair of... something, their frames just barely visible above the ashen flowers.
'They couldn't be graves, they're far too darker...'
Michael was just about to relax his tense grip on his dagger...
...Until something rose above the white canopy, an extension of the dark frames, before quickly disappearing again.
He was confused for a second, but only for a second, as he discerned the pair suddenly start moving his way with daunting speed.
'Monsters.'
Michael heaved a heavy sigh and looked at his hand holding the dagger, scrutinizing his near blindness. He couldn't even tell much of the finer details of his gauntlets apart, with even the outlines of the blade's serrated edge being nearly imperceptible from the blur.
He yawned and looked back up, focusing on the approaching Nightmare Creatures. A mere second later, the beasts had already completely closed the great distance.
It seemed his exhaustion made him lose his already flimsy edge.
Before realizing what happen, something had leapt from the ashen petals and collided into him, piercing his sides with innumerable punctures. Michael slammed down onto something furry and prepared to stab the abomination, but it quickly relinquished its iron grip.
'What the-'
Another creature immediately lunged at him from the side, pushing him away as he slid across the dirt back up the path. The hit had dazed him quite a bit, but Michael instantly got back onto his feet and examined the situation.
'Four... no, two Nightmare Creatures.'
Barring his path forward were two canine-like creatures with powerful hind legs and ferocious maws dripping saliva from countless stained teeth. Their short, charred fur were broken with several old wounds and patches of sickly skin, and their eyes emanated nothing but perverted insanity and hunger.
Michael was honestly terrified at the sight, who wouldn't be when facing something probably heavier than them with more teeth?
He sluggishly swallowed his fear and tried to focus.
Right now, they were at an impasse... well, not really, but it seemed neither party was daring to move forward.
'Two creatures... coordinated enough to attack together... clever... Awakened Monsters?'
Michael lightly touched his bloodied side and flinched, something that wasn't really necessary when he thought about it, since he could sense the blood escaping his body. This exhaustion was really starting to get to him mentally.
'Extremely fast if they could cover that distance so quick... teeth sharp enough to easily pierce the [Crimson Mantle]... can't attack from the front...'
The beast's horrendous maws had unfortunately parted his mantle like it was nothing and punctured quite deep, making the blood leaving his body fairly concerning.
'Has my curse run out of ideas or something? It can't be throwing these kind of creatures at me endlessly, surely...'
Michael took a single, heavy step forward, generating a loud thud. At the same time, the creatures separated and slowly moved to either side of him, lowering their heads and baring more of their disgusting teeth.
His boot and their paws stomping the ground made for quite a rhythm. As they surrounded him, he spoke in a tired voice still carrying a hint of humor, a reflex from his days in the outskirts.
"You two are way too similar to the ones I met on the surface. Are you guys relatives?"
Michael lowered his body and darted his eyes between his enemies, planning his next course of action.
"Sorry to say, but I killed them."
Before either could pounce and charge him with their gnarly maws, he moved first.
"And I'll kill both of you, too."
Michael pushed off the ground with all his might, racing to his left where one of the hounds were. The monster charged forward as well, including the one that was now behind him, but it would take too long for it to reach him before Michael finished its kin first.
He swung horizontally towards the rushing abomination with a reverse grip but missed as the Nightmare Creature dived under, latching onto his leg.
Michael flinched from feeling the slimy maws puncture his calf and he flipped his grip, striking downwards with tears in his eyes. Before he could pierce the creature's brains, it retreated its muscular body far quicker than him.
He haphazardly moved back, leaning on his wounded leg, and prepared a defensive stance against the second monster who was rapidly approaching him. Michael's back was against the boundary of flowers with the other abomination standing there, biding its time for an opening.
'I can't retreat into the meadows, I'll probably succumb to the fragrance before they do.'
Fighting against the urge to collapse onto a bed of ashen petals and fall asleep, he rushed towards the beast who had already lunged at him. Instead of facing the attack head on or dodging, Michael decided to do both.
Michael reached down to the ground, keeping his momentum, and flung dirt at the nearing creature. Countless specks of soot blinded the monster for just a moment, but that was all he needed.
He dropped down and slid against the ground, passing the dumbfounded hound. Michael impaled the abomination's side and with his momentum, created a fatal gash reaching deep into its charred fur and patchy skin.
[You have slain an Awakened Monster: Gravehound.]
Michael twisted his body and pushed himself off the ground, rushing towards the final Nightmare Creature...
...But it was nowhere to be seen.
'What!? Where did it go-'
He was late to react, and so didn't hear the hound's heavy footsteps behind him until it was too late. In a split second, Michael was mounted by the ferocious beast and its claws dug into his shoulders.
The creature fell off as they collapsed to the floor, giving Michael just enough time to turn over before being mounted again.
Sharp claws dug into his torso and its maws locked onto his helm, trying to pierce the steel and rend the flesh beneath. The masterful craftsmanship was holding, but the defiant metal's groans were deafening. It wouldn't be long until the steel shattered.
Michael was consumed by a wave of pain and dizziness, but managed to keep some of his focus. Afterall, the symphony of footsteps and whispers never left his mind.
As currents of blood writhed up the beast's charred fur, he unsummoned his dagger and grabbed onto the monster's burly body with his gauntlets, digging into its muscles and pulling it towards him. In turn, the beast did the same, finally scraping away the mantle's protection with its claws and ripping his body to shreds.
It wasn't long before his blood entered the abomination's mouth. It relinquished its relentless gnawing and yelped loudly, trying to push itself off of Michael...
And yet it could barely put up against his strength.
Under normal circumstances, the hound would've easily overpowered Michael. But that's the thing with Michael, it could never be normal circumstances. The anguish of having his blood insides its body was too much, even for a mindless Nightmare Creature.
Right now, the hound was locked, chained until it died.
It took a while for enough blood to completely paralyze it, but once it was, Michael pushed it off of him and climbed onto his knees, wielding the freshly summoned [Wolf's Wrath].
He held the dagger with both hands high in the sky and struck downwards, repeating the process again and again for however long it needed to.
[You have slain an Awakened Monster: Gravehound.]
Michael dropped the blemished blade into the soaked dirt and hurriedly threw away his helmet, revealing his damp strands of hair stuck to his sweaty, despondent face. His eyes were empty of all distractions, focused on only one thing.
[Your blood grows thicker.]
After a long moment, he stood back up with renewed vigor and energy. After consuming just one Awakened Monster, he felt surprisingly reinvigorated, but not completely there.
'Maybe because I'm a Sleeper, essentially a Dormant Beast? Is it because I consumed something an entire Rank and Class above me?'
Michael took casual, heavy steps to the other Nightmare Creature corpse, looking down with a pained and nauseous expression.
'So consuming does relieve me from that mysterious exhaustion, as well as easing hunger and some thirst troubles. Huh, if that exhaustion is related to my essence, then consuming regenerates my essence. Its a shame it doesn't help with my sleep or pain.'
He knelt down on both knees and flicked back his bloodied hair, stripping his eyes bare to the ancient stars above.
[Your blood grows thicker.]
'And this...'
Michael summoned the familiar runes and watched them shimmer into existence before his eyes.
___
Blood Fragments: 70/100
___
He received twenty-four Blood Fragments from killing two Awakened Monsters
'If I'm not wrong, I received ten for killing the Cave Guardian, who was a Fallen Beast. And I'm pretty sure I got six for each White Wolf I killed, so what decides the amount of Fragments I receive?'
If the difference of one Class dictates the difference of six and twelve fragments, does Class act as a modifier, while Rank decides the amount? It would make sense, since an Awakened Beast gave six, while a Fallen Beast rewarded ten.
'But... that doesn't mathematically make sense, wouldn't it be six for an Awakened, and twelve for a Fallen? Is there something else that affects the amount of Blood Fragments I get? What hidden variable do I not know?'
Michael stood up, looked disdainfully at the blood on him, and reclaimed his carelessly disregarded equipment. With the dagger in hand, his eyes darted between the serrated edge and the devoured corpses with little meat on them.
'Looks like I don't need to cook, but I would still prefer to...'
He looked around helplessly, trying to figure something out.
'I don't really have a way to carry around meat, and I don't know how to make bags from hide...'
Michael sighed and squinted with exhaustion.
'I'll do what I must...'