Chapter 2 – The Golden Eyes of Velmoria
The golden eyes glared at me from the shadows, unblinking, glowing like molten fire beneath the canopy. My chest tightened and my breath caught in my throat. I was small, weak, and unarmed, staring into the gaze of a predator that could tear me apart in seconds. My knees wanted to buckle, my legs screamed to run, but something deep inside told me if I moved now, I'd never take another step again.
The beast emerged from the shadows at last, and my heart nearly stopped. A wolf—yet far more monstrous than anything I had ever imagined. Its body was enormous, taller than a man, covered in sleek black fur that rippled with every movement. Its golden eyes burned with hunger, and when it opened its jaws, long white fangs gleamed, dripping with saliva that hissed faintly as it struck the ground. Each step it took sank deep into the mossy soil, claws carving marks into the earth as if the land itself feared it.
[The Blessing of Your Death warns you: Do not run.]
The voice cut through my panic like a blade, cold and steady. My small fists trembled at my sides. "Don't run?!" I whispered sharply, though my voice was so high and childlike it almost sounded like pleading. "That thing will kill me!"
[The Blessing of Your Death bestows a new path. Skill acquired: Devour.]
My eyes widened. "Devour…?" I repeated the word, my heart pounding. The sound of it vibrated inside me, dark and heavy, like a hidden hunger that had just been awakened. I didn't know what it meant, not exactly, but I felt it coil in my chest—an instinct, a presence, waiting for me to use it.
The wolf snarled, its growl reverberating through the ground. It lunged forward, faster than I thought possible, a blur of black fur and golden fire. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. I thrust my hands out, screaming as fear ripped through me.
"DEVOUR!"
The word tore from my throat like something primal, something older than me. The world twisted. A sudden pull surged outward from my body, like invisible jaws opening wide. The air warped, and the wolf froze mid-leap, its eyes going wide as if it suddenly felt itself being dragged into something it couldn't see.
The beast let out a strangled snarl, claws thrashing, but its movements slowed, its body jerking unnaturally as shadows swirled around it. I felt it—the essence of the creature, its strength, its life—being sucked toward me, ripped away piece by piece. My chest burned, my veins screamed, but I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. The hunger inside me demanded more.
The wolf howled one final time before collapsing onto the moss with a heavy thud. Its golden eyes dimmed, its breath rattled once, twice, then stopped. Silence filled the forest again, but the silence was broken by a strange warmth flooding into me. My small hands glowed faintly violet, light seeping under my skin, and my breath came out ragged and sharp.
The body of the wolf shriveled, its muscles wasting away, its skin clinging to bone until all that remained was a brittle husk. I staggered backward, clutching my chest, shaking violently. My stomach churned, not with nausea but with a strange satisfaction, like I had just eaten a meal after starving for days.
[The Blessing of Your Death affirms: You have taken life and made it your own. The Devour skill feeds your survival.]
I fell to my knees, gasping, my violet hair falling into my face. My small chest rose and fell rapidly, tears stinging my eyes. "I… killed it…" I whispered, voice trembling. "I actually killed it." My fingers dug into the damp moss as I stared at the withered carcass of the beast.
The fear still lingered, but under it was something new, something darker. Power. Not strength of muscle or weapon, but the undeniable truth that I had stolen life from a creature that should have devoured me instead. The hunger that skill awakened still pulsed inside me, whispering quietly, waiting to be used again. It was terrifying, but it was also intoxicating.
I stared down at my hands again, my delicate childlike fingers glowing faintly for just a moment longer before the light faded. They didn't look like the hands of a killer. They didn't even look like a boy's hands. Small, soft, fragile. And yet they had just taken the life of a monster that towered over me.
"I'm… still alive," I muttered, my voice breaking into a small laugh, half relief, half disbelief. "I'm alive because I devoured it…"
[The Blessing of Your Death counsels: Survival has a price. Do not forget what you felt. Devour will save you, but it will also change you.]
I closed my eyes, letting the words sink in. I had already died once. I had already lost everything once. And yet, here I was again, given another chance. This skill, this blessing—it wasn't a gift. It was a reminder. If I wanted to live in Velmoria, if I wanted to keep moving forward, I would need to take from others. This world was not one of comfort or fairness. It was survival, pure and cruel.
When I opened my eyes again, I looked at the husk of the beast, its golden eyes long gone. A part of me felt guilty, sickened by what I had done, but another part—the deeper, hungrier part—felt nothing but grim satisfaction.
I pushed myself back to my feet, my small legs still trembling but steady enough to hold me. My long violet hair swayed around my shoulders as I took one last look at the corpse. The forest was still watching me, its silence heavy, its shadows alive. I wasn't safe. Not even close. But I had survived my first encounter with Velmoria.
"Alright," I whispered hoarsely, clenching my tiny fists. "If this world wants to devour me… then I'll devour it first."
The Blessing of My Death was silent this time, but I could almost feel it approving.
And so, with shaking legs and a strange new hunger burning inside me, I walked deeper into Velmoria.