At first, it was easy.
That realization came to me mid-step, knife held loose but ready, breath steady in my chest. The Shadow Revenant hovered a few meters away, its warped silhouette stretching and compressing as though it couldn't quite agree with the shape of the world around it.
It struck.
And I moved before it finished deciding how.
The attack came as a lunge—shadow folding inward, limbs blurring as it tried to cross the distance in a way that ignored space. I sidestepped early, the motion already mapped in my head, blade flicking out on instinct.
My knife passed through the revenant's arm, meeting resistance like thick fog wrapped around brittle bone. The creature recoiled, its form rippling violently.
Too slow.
I adjusted my footing, angling my body so I could see its entire frame. The pressure behind my eyes intensified—not painful, but demanding. Information flowed in faster than I could consciously process.
[Attack Pattern Recognition] wasn't just reacting anymore.
It was predicting.
The revenant tried again. A feint this time—upper body drawing back while shadow pooled low, forming a tendril that lashed out at my legs.
I stepped over it.
The motion felt almost lazy.
My blade carved a clean arc through its torso. The cut didn't split it in half, but something inside the creature shuddered. The shadows binding it destabilized, flickering like a bad signal.
I felt it then.
Not visually. Not audibly.
A pull.
There.
Inside the revenant's chest, slightly left of center, something pulsed—faint but distinct. A knot of condensed shadow, denser than the rest.
A core.
My pulse quickened.
I pressed the attack, forcing it backward with short, controlled slashes. The revenant retreated, drifting rather than stepping, shadows bleeding off it and dissolving into the dungeon floor.
I waited for the right moment.
When it lunged again—overcommitting, anger leaking through its movements—I slipped inside its reach and drove my knife straight into the pulsing mass.
The blade sank deep.
The revenant screamed.
Not in sound, but in pressure. The air warped, the walls shuddered, and a wave of shadow exploded outward, throwing me back hard enough to slam me into the far wall.
I hit the stone shoulder-first, pain flaring bright and immediate.
I slid down, gasping.
The revenant convulsed, its form unraveling where I'd struck. The pulsing knot shattered, dispersing into smoke that screamed as it died.
One down.
The creature didn't collapse.
Instead, it changed.
The shadows retracted, pulling inward, condensing. The revenant's silhouette sharpened, its movements growing more aggressive, less sluggish.
And then the dungeon answered.
A shrill, echoing cry rang out behind me.
I turned just in time to see a wraith tear itself free from the wall—humanoid, skeletal, its face twisted in eternal anguish. It lunged without hesitation.
I barely raised my arm in time.
Claws raked across my side, ripping fabric and flesh alike. Pain exploded, hot and blinding. I cried out, stumbling forward as blood soaked into my shirt.
I spun, slashing wildly.
The wraith recoiled, hissing, but didn't retreat far.
The Shadow Revenant advanced at the same time.
My chest tightened.
Too much.
I retreated, forcing myself to breathe through the pain, mind racing. The revenant moved differently now—faster, more decisive. I felt it immediately.
Two more pulls.
Two more cores.
One high, near the throat. Another low, buried deep where its spine should have been.
Three hearts.
Three anchors.
And I was already bleeding.
The revenant attacked in tandem with the wraith now, coordinating in a way that made my skin crawl. The shadow lashed out high while the wraith darted low, forcing me to split my attention.
I parried the revenant's strike and kicked the wraith back, but the movement pulled at my injured side. Pain flared, sharp enough to make my vision blur.
Focus.
Patterns.
I forced myself to see again.
The wraiths were simple. Fast, aggressive, but predictable. The revenant was smarter—its attacks flowed, testing my reactions, probing for weakness.
I activated Continuous Knife Slash, not to charge, but to carve space. The blade moved in tight arcs, forcing the wraith back long enough for me to reposition.
That was when the second wraith arrived.
Then the third.
They emerged from opposite sides of the corridor, cutting off my retreat. Their hollow eyes fixed on me, mouths opening in silent screams.
Surrounded.
My breathing turned ragged.
I shifted my stance, back pressed lightly against the wall, knife held forward. Blood dripped steadily from my side, warmth spreading uncomfortably.
The revenant hovered behind the wraiths, watching.
Waiting.
The first wraith lunged.
I ducked under its claws and drove my blade up through its skull. The shadow holding it together unraveled instantly, the creature collapsing into nothingness.
The second came immediately after.
I blocked, twisted, and slashed its arm clean off. It screamed, staggering back—but the third wraith seized the opening, slamming into me from the side.
We hit the ground hard.
My head struck stone. Stars exploded across my vision.
Hands clawed at my throat.
I jammed my knife into its ribs, once, twice, three times, until the wraith dissolved above me in a cascade of shadow.
I rolled away, gasping.
Only one wraith left.
And the revenant.
The last wraith hesitated—just a fraction too long.
I surged forward and ended it with a single, brutal stab.
Silence fell.
Then the revenant moved.
It came at me faster than before, shadow condensing into blade-like limbs that slashed and thrust with terrifying precision. I blocked one strike, barely dodged another, felt a third graze my arm, tearing skin.
I was slowing.
It wasn't.
I baited it—retreated just enough to make it commit.
When it lunged, I stepped inside its reach and drove my knife toward the core near its throat.
It twisted.
The blade grazed the core but didn't pierce it fully. The revenant howled, shadow lashing out violently, knocking me off my feet again.
I hit the floor hard, breath leaving my lungs in a wheezing rush.
The revenant loomed over me.
Shadow gathered.
I moved on instinct alone, rolling just as a spear of darkness slammed into the stone where my head had been.
I forced myself upright, legs shaking, vision tunneling.
One chance.
I charged.
The revenant struck first, shadow ripping into my shoulder, tearing muscle. Pain ripped a scream from my throat—but I didn't stop.
I used it.
I plunged my knife into the exposed core at its throat and ripped sideways.
The revenant shrieked as the second core shattered, its form destabilizing violently. Shadows peeled away, collapsing inward.
It staggered.
The final core pulsed wildly at its base, exposed now, desperate.
I fell to one knee.
My body screamed at me to stop.
I didn't.
I dragged myself forward, every movement agony, and drove my knife down into the last core with everything I had left.
The Shadow Revenant convulsed.
Then it came apart.
Shadow unraveled into nothing, sucked back into the dungeon walls like smoke caught in a vacuum. The pressure vanished. The cold receded.
I collapsed forward, knife slipping from numb fingers.
The dungeon was silent again.
I lay there, blood pooling beneath me, chest heaving, vision dimming at the edges.
Alive.
Barely.
But the contract was complete.
And I knew—deep in my bones—that if I'd been even a little weaker…
I wouldn't have walked out at all.