My jaw is a throbbing pulse of pain. Every time I clench my teeth, a wave of fire shoots up to my temple. Caelan's slap left more than a bruise; it branded me with a burning humiliation that surpasses even the bite of hunger.
The bonus from my skill has faded, leaving me weaker and hungrier than before. My body paid the price for that powerless rage.
HP: 18/30 → 15/30
Status: Starving (Critical)
I dragged myself to the public fountain to wash the blood and mud from my face. The icy water numbed the pain, but not the memory. The taste of dirt, mixed with the stolen sweetness of the apple, lingers on my tongue. It is the taste of my condition.
I have to get back to work. Not finishing my day means not receiving my evening pay: a meager soup and another piece of bread. Hunger will not allow me that luxury.
My afternoon job is worse than the morning's. I'm assigned to clean the barracks' latrines. The smell is an assault, a stench so thick you could chew it. But today, I almost welcome it. It masks the scent of my own misery.
As I empty a bucket of filth into the pit, I overhear two guards talking nearby. They speak in low voices, but in the oppressive silence of this part of the barracks, their words reach me clearly.
"...another problem in the sewers under the East Quarter," says the first, a stocky man with a broken nose. "The Shadow Rats are getting more aggressive. Two sewer workers were injured yesterday."
Shadow Rats. My mind latches onto the name. I know what they are. Low-level creatures, mutated rats infused with a faint, dark energy that makes them bigger, faster, and far more vicious than normal rats. They are usually Level 2 or 3.
"The Guild put a small bounty on their tails, but who'd want to go down there for a few copper pieces?" his companion replies. "It's a job for novice adventurers with nothing to lose."
Nothing to lose. The phrase resonates within me. I have nothing. No family, no friends, no status. Just a hunger that is slowly killing me and a Level 1 that chains me to the bottom of the social ladder.
A crazy, dangerous, and terribly seductive idea begins to sprout in my mind.
Monsters give experience. It's the fundamental law of this world. To level up, you have to kill. I've always been too weak, too afraid. My body, constantly weakened by my skill, could never withstand a real fight.
But the cold rage that has been simmering inside me since this morning has changed something. The fear is still there, but it's no longer paralyzing. It has become a whisper, drowned out by the howl of hunger and the burning desire to rise above this filth.
A Shadow Rat. Level 2. If I can manage to kill one... just one... I might finally be able to reach Level 2. I might finally be able to progress.
The thought is terrifying. It's likely suicide. But what's the alternative? To keep hauling buckets, cleaning up other people's shit, enduring the kicks and spit of Caelan Burix until my skill finally devours me completely?
No. That ends now.
I finish my work in silence, my mind racing. I have no weapon, no armor. Just my tattered clothes and a body that threatens to collapse at any moment.
That evening, I receive my pay. The soup is a clear broth with a few vegetables floating in it. The bread is stale. I eat it slowly, methodically, but my mind is elsewhere. I have no intention of sleeping in the miserable, communal dormitory. I have another plan.
Night falls on Kryndal. The guards' torches cast dancing shadows on the city walls. I slip out of the barracks, taking advantage of a changing of the guard. I know the city like the back of my hand, at least its underbelly. I know where to find the sewer entrances that aren't watched.
In a dark, stinking alley, I find what I'm looking for: a rusty iron grate, half-unseated. It leads to the city's bowels. Before I descend, I search for a weapon. My eyes scan the refuse until they land on an old iron pipe, about an arm's length, heavy and solid. It's no sword, but it will be better than my fists.
I take a deep breath, the foul alley air filling my lungs, and descend into the darkness.
The smell is a thousand times worse than the latrines. It's a nauseating mix of decay, dampness, and something else, a metallic, wild scent. The sound of filthy water flowing through the channels is constant, a sinister gurgle that nearly covers the sound of my own cautious footsteps.
It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the near-total darkness. I have no torch. I can't afford to draw attention.
I grip the iron pipe, my palm sweating. My status window floats before me, a constant reminder of my fragility.
HP: 20/30 (The soup had some effect)
Status: Starving (Severe)
The hunger is already gnawing at me again. My stomach contracts so violently that I have to stop and lean against a weeping wall to keep from vomiting the little I've eaten. Every minute spent down here drains my energy. I have to be quick.
I move along a narrow ledge, the sewage canal flowing at my feet. Scratching sounds echo in the darkness. Normal rats, probably. But I remain on guard.
Suddenly, a different sound. A sharp, aggressive hiss.
I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. Ahead of me, about thirty feet away, two red dots glow in the dark. They are fixed on me.
The creature emerges from the shadows. It's a Shadow Rat. It's the size of a medium dog, its black fur bristling and seeming to absorb the light. A faint aura of darkness hovers around it. Its claws scrape against the stone.
My mental interface updates.
Name: Shadow Rat
Level: 2
Status: Aggressive
Fear chills my bones. It's bigger than I imagined. My first instinct is to run, to climb back to the surface and forget this stupid idea. But the image of Caelan crushing the apple before my eyes flashes in my memory. Rage overwhelms fear.
I will not back down.
The Shadow Rat lets out a piercing shriek and charges. It is incredibly fast. I raise my iron pipe in a clumsy defensive gesture. It leaps, aiming for my throat. I throw myself to the side, hitting the wall hard. Its claws miss me by inches, but I feel the rush of air as it passes.
I stagger to my feet. It turns, its red eyes glowing with a malevolent light. There's no time for strategy. It's him or me.
It charges again. This time, I don't move. I brandish the pipe like a bat. At the last second, I pivot and swing with all my might.
The impact of metal against flesh and bone echoes in the tunnel. A shrill cry of pain. I hit it. But the blow wasn't strong enough. The monster is knocked aside, but it scrambles back up immediately, a bleeding wound on its flank.
Now, it's enraged.
It no longer charges in a straight line. It circles me, looking for an opening. I am slow, weakened by hunger. My first swing used up most of my energy.
Suddenly, it feints left and lunges right. I'm caught by surprise. Its sharp claws dig into my thigh.
A blinding white pain explodes in my leg. I scream.
HP: 20/30 → 11/30
I fall to one knee, the pipe nearly slipping from my grasp. Blood flows warmly down my leg. The monster prepares to pounce again, this time for the killing blow.
It's over. I'm going to die here, in the stench of the sewers.
And that's when it happens. The pain, the blood loss, the despair... it all pushes my skill to its absolute limit.
Status: Starving (Severe) → Starving (Critical)
Devouring Hunger: Temporary bonus activated.
Strength: +5
Agility: +3
Warning: Risk of losing control.
A wild heat floods my body. The pain in my leg fades, replaced by an icy fury. My senses sharpen. I can see every bristling hair on the Shadow Rat's back, every drop of saliva beading on its fangs. Time seems to slow down.
This isn't the courage of a hero. It's the survival instinct of a cornered animal.
When the monster leaps, I am ready. I don't get up. I pivot on my good knee, using the momentum to swing the iron pipe low to the ground.
The blow is perfect. The metal connects with the Shadow Rat's skull with a dull, cracking sound. The creature is thrown into the air and lands heavily on the ground, limp.
A dead silence falls, broken only by my ragged breathing.
I remain there, on my knees, for long seconds, the bloodied pipe still in my hand. I won. I survived.
Then, a notification appears in my vision, bright and beautiful.
You have defeated [Shadow Rat]!
25 XP
My heart soars. 25 points. That's huge. It's more than I've accumulated in my entire life.
Experience: 2/100 → 27/100
I'm still a long way from Level 2, but it's a start. It's proof that it's possible.
The adrenaline recedes, and the pain returns with a vengeance. My leg throbs horribly. The bonus from my skill fades, leaving me trembling and nauseous. The hunger returns, worse than ever. A primal hunger, exacerbated by the exertion and blood loss.
My gaze falls on the Shadow Rat's corpse. The dark aura that surrounded it is dissipating, leaving behind a small, pulsing black stone in the middle of its chest. A monster core. The source of its power.
My stomach contracts. A horrible, repulsive, yet irresistible thought crosses my mind.
My skill is called Devouring Hunger.
Devour.
I crawl to the corpse. The smell of blood and wet fur is sickening. My hands are shaking. This is madness. It's inhuman.
But hunger is stronger than reason, stronger than disgust. It screams that this is the only way.
With hesitant fingers, I reach into the wound I inflicted on the monster's skull, then tear open its ribcage. I grasp the monster core. It's still warm, pulsing with a faint energy.
I bring it to my mouth. I close my eyes and bite down.
The texture is rubbery. The taste is of blood, metal, and something else... a dark, energetic flavor that doesn't belong to this world. It is vile. But as soon as I swallow, a wave of heat and power spreads through my body.
The pain in my stomach subsides instantly. Not just the hunger, but the deep, existential pain of my skill. For the first time in my life, the monster within me falls silent, sated.
You have consumed [Shadow Rat Core].
HP Restored: +10
Your [Starving (Critical)] status has been temporarily removed.
Status: Normal
You have absorbed a fraction of your prey's essence.
Agility: +1 (Temporary - Duration: 1 hour)
I look at my hands, covered in the creature's blood. My status is "Normal." I have never seen that word on my interface. The feeling is incredible. I feel light, strong. The world seems clearer, sharper.
I understand. This is the true power of my skill. It isn't just a curse. It's a weapon. I don't just have to defeat my enemies.
I have to devour them.
I get to my feet, my injured leg still aching, but my mind is clear. I look deeper into the darkness of the sewers. This is no longer a potential tomb.
It's my hunting ground. My pantry.
And I'm starving.