Laid in front of Liam were three items:
A book, a ring, and a little pill bottle.
The book was thick, bound in black, with barely visible skull patterns etched across its weathered leather cover. It bore no title, and its pages carried the faint scent of ash.
The ring was rustic black and appeared very ordinary.
And then the pill bottle.
He raised the pill bottle nervously, taking it to the bathroom.
He took off his shirt and sat on the floor with his legs crossed.
Uncapped the bottle and watched a black pill fall into his palm.
He looked at it skeptically, mentally prepping himself.
"Anything for power, right?" he chuckled.
He swallowed the pill and felt it dissolve down his throat.
"Ugghhh…" The pill was rotten bitter.
The essence of the pill dissolved into a dark, potent energy.
It flowed down his chest, into his arms and legs,
before finally seeping into his muscles, his organs, and his bones.
Crack!
"Arghhh!"
He cried out in pain as his bones started snapping.
Black, sticky mucus oozed out of his pores—foul and acrid, the residue of years of suppressed toxicity and damage.
He spasmed on the floor in pain unimaginable compared to anything he had ever gone through before.
He passed out several times, but each time a dark cloud in his mind dragged him back into consciousness within seconds.
By the time the cracks reached his spine and skull,
his body only twitched silently on the bathroom tiles—
not because the pain had lessened. No.
It had grown so intense that he could no longer move a muscle or even scream.
After what felt like hours,
the pain finally began to recede.
A new energy flowed from his heart into his body, and his bones and muscles began to heal.
His body, looking like an emaciated corpse, rose and fell in shallow gasps as his lungs struggled desperately for air.
Another minute passed.
Then he blacked out—
but audible cracks still echoed in the room as his body lengthened and gained muscle mass within seconds.
***
A few hours later
"…T..hat was…" Liam stood in the shower as water fell over him. "H..Hell…" he whispered to himself.
He gently rubbed off the black grime that stuck like tar and stank like rot.
He remembered the pain, remembered begging for death in his mind when his ability to speak was taken from him.
He had broken down again and again in ways he thought it was psychologically impossible to recover from.
And now—nothing.
He felt nothing.
It was as if the pain he had gone through was normal—like a minor slap on the wrist, painful but just another inconvenience to get over.
Something had changed within him.
Not just his body, but something in his head didn't click like it used to.
***
After refreshing himself, Liam noticed how much taller and stronger he had become.
Curiosity got the better of him, and he called out to his status.
Ding!
[Liam]
Race: Human
Rank: E+
Affinity: Dark, Death
Talent: S
Trait: Neil
Unique Skill: Focus
Bloodline: Neil
Physique: Black Heart
---
He had grown stronger.
After weeks of planning and training, finally, the first step was completed.
He was shocked to find his talent had increased to S-rank—something almost impossible to raise.
He had considered other ways, dangerous ways, to increase his talent later: rare items found only in perilous locations,
opportunities that rightfully belonged to important characters in the novel's growth.
He had been reluctant.
But now, he had no need for them. Not yet.
He also noticed an additional affinity—Death.
An element commonly wielded by necromancers and black magicians.
And then his physique, the reason he went treasure hunting to begin with:
[Black Heart]
Rank: Growth
Description:
-Increases affinity with death energy
-Minor regeneration
-Immunity to curses
-Increases soul strength
---
"Wow…" he muttered in shock.
The Black Heart Physique was exactly what he needed to survive Terra.
Even if it only gave immunity to curses, it was worth it.
The best part about it being it grew with its welder.
He had thought long and hard about how to build his foundation—what items would suit him best.
The Black Heart Physique was not only the fastest path to strength, but also too valuable to pass up.
In Terra, not only dark mages but even the divine and sacred made use of curses.
Imagine surviving a battle with a foe only to die from a curse placed on a single fallen strand of hair.
"Could never be me," he said to himself. "I made the right call."
Though part of him still felt uneasy about how twisted "Black Heart" sounded.
His eyes shifted to the side of his bed, where the ring and book still rested.
He grabbed the book—
only for it to dissolve into black particles that scattered into his body.
He panicked, thinking it had turned to dust like the corpse of its previous owner,
but calmed down when memories surged into his mind.
"A spell!" Liam exclaimed excitedly.
Spells and weapon arts were different from skills—
and usually more powerful.
Unique skills were inborn.
Acquired skills were one-in-a-million finds from dungeons.
But spells and arts were manuals—inheritances crafted by powerful individuals.
And they could be learned by more than one person.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the new spell.
"Tier… six grimoire?" Liam was shocked.
Spells and arts ranged from tier one to seven.
Tier seven being the highest.
And now—
not only did he have a rare tier six spell,
but also an entire book of tier one to five spells.
The knowledge was hazy, its instructions unclear.
He took a deep breath, stretched out his hand—
and the book materialized again.
Just as in his mind, he found he could only access the first page.
No matter how much he tried, the rest would not turn.
On that first page were instructions—alchemy, and necromancer spells.
The type that required corpses.
"Mmmhn…" he groaned, disturbed. "I'll think about it later."
His focus shifted to the last remaining item.
From memory, he already knew about the ring:
a space ring, capable of storing and preserving anything as if time itself had stopped inside.
"Very necromancer-ish," he thought. "Especially the bit about preserving."
He slipped the black ring onto his finger.
By the time he finished sorting everything out, it was already one o'clock in the morning.
The weekend was over. School awaited.
Placing his head on the pillow, he drifted into sleep—
thoughts racing about everything he needed to prepare for.