Following his momentary confusion came the overwhelming stench, bitter, and sour, rising from the viscous substance that had oozed out of his body. It was so pungent that just a whiff of it made him cough uncontrollably.
"What the heck!?" He barked, his voice hoarse and disgusted.
The air around him was heavy with it. The foul smell clung to his clothes, and his skin, and seemed to saturate the very ground he lay on. It was as if something inside him had rotted and been forcibly expelled.
Pushing himself up with a bit of effort, Narvel was surprised to find that his body felt oddly light, almost unnaturally so. His limbs, once heavy with pain, now moved with fluid ease. In fact, he felt... stronger. Lighter. Sharper.
Was it the essence from Ebonveil? Or had something else occurred within him while he was unconscious? He was clueless, unaware of the short occurrence that happened in his body.
Temporarily forgetting about the stench, Narvel quickly checked his interface;
Name: Narvel Naver Anderson
Age: 19
Race: Human
Gene Fragment: 2 (Sundered)
Level: Awakened (22%)
Class: —
Gene Class: ???
Title: —
Strength: 24
Speed: 25
Stamina: 60/60
Dexterity: 27
Intelligence: 17
Mental: 13
Wisdom: 13
Charisma: 12
Will: 30/30
Attributes: ??? [Mind's Eye] [True Double]
Constitution: ??? [Realmrender]
Talents: [Telekinesis (weakened)] [Deep Thought]
Skills: [Unnamed]
Comprehensions: —
Pet: Voidscale
'No wonder…' Narvel muttered internally, his eyes darting between the stat changes. 'But how did my stats increase like this? Is the essence from the Uncommon Specters really that powerful?'
His fingers trembled slightly, not out of fear but excitement. Seeing real growth felt like proof that his goal—catching up to Joseline—wasn't just wishful thinking anymore.
It was real. Tangible and close.
A faint, satisfied smile crept onto his face, the kind that only came after narrowly escaping death and finding some reward on the other side of suffering.
Then the stench hit him again—full force.
His eyes widened, and his smile vanished as he pinched his nose shut. "What in the world is this smell, and why is it on me!?"
He spun in place, trying to locate the exact source.
The area around him was stained with dried, tar-like sludge, its dark crust was clinging to his clothes and smeared across the stone floor. His gaze fell on Voidscale, and immediately, he narrowed his eyes.
The creature was watching him with a tilted head and narrowed gaze, looking as though it couldn't decide whether Narvel had been possessed or simply become a walking dumpster.
"Did you do this to me?" Narvel asked.
Voidscale growled lowly in response, immediately taking offense to the question.
It recoiled, feeling insulted at the very idea that it would interact with something so revolting. The creature clicked its tongue in annoyance and turned away in a dramatic huff, walking over to Ebonveil, which still lay on the floor.
Voidscale tapped the scythe lightly with a claw and then gave Narvel another look—this time filled with disdain. It had half a mind to never care for its master again. Caring had clearly resulted in nothing but confusion, insults, and personal suffering.
Seeing that Voidscale was thoroughly done with him for the moment, Narvel sighed and turned his attention back to himself, brushing at his clothing uselessly. The black residue was caked into the fabric. He grimaced.
There was no helping it, unless he miraculously stumbled across a clean water source in this catacomb, he'd be stuck with the smell until he escaped.
'Still…' he thought, glancing back at the interface. 'If I fought those Uncommon Specters again, I'd have a decent shot now. With [True Double] active, and my stamina this high, I should be able to last a bit longer…' He flexed his fingers, marveling at the energy coursing through him.
'Now that I think about it, could the drastic stat boost be because my body was broken so badly, and then reformed using the essence from Ebonveil? Is that why the growth was so extreme?'
A dangerous idea began to form. He actually started to consider replicating the experience and deliberately putting himself through that level of physical trauma again to see if it triggered another leap in growth.
'Would that even work a second time?' He wondered, the logic tugging at the edge of his thoughts.
But after a moment, he shook the idea off. No. The risk was too high. He wasn't even sure what exactly had triggered the transformation.
Still, one thing was clear—his progress was accelerating.
Now that his potential had gone from 19% to 22% Narvel could feel that his body was approaching the limits it could shoulder as an Awakened Nova. Once he reaches his limits, that's when he would feel the chance of growth from the Awakened to the Sundered level.
The stench hit him again, curling through his nostrils. Narvel let out a guttural cough, doubling over slightly.
"F*ck!!" He barked, gagging.
Without wasting another second, he fumbled through his clothes and retrieved his mask. Thankfully, it was still clean and untouched by the gooey, dark substance that had erupted from his body. He quickly put it over his face, letting out a breath of relief as the mask filtered the worst of the stench. The intensity dropped, but a lingering bitterness still hung faintly in the air.
Meanwhile, just a short distance away, Voidscale was busy with its own brand of mischief.
Somehow, the creature had managed to extract three orbs from Ebonveil's frame. And strangely, this time the weapon didn't reject Voidscale. There was no violent recoil. No sudden backlash.
Narvel glanced over, mildly surprised. Still, he didn't wait around to see what might happen if the greedy creature got too comfortable. Without a word, he stepped over and picked up Ebonveil.
He turned without looking back, making his way down the passageway once more. His gait was steadier now and stronger. He craved a rematch with the Uncommon Specters. He wanted to know the limits of this new strength…
Voidscale didn't protest that the weapon was taken away mid-extraction of the fourth orb. It was far too satisfied with its prize.
Instead, it began tossing the essence orbs into its mouth one by one, like a spoiled glutton. It briefly recalled the dizzying high it had experienced the first time it tasted such energy, but it soon dismissed it immediately. This time, Voidscale was confident it could handle the power.
And sure enough, as the last orb disappeared down its throat, there was no drunken stupor or instability. The only effect was a soft, creamy glow that settled onto its claws, illuminating the tips with a faint, silken shimmer.
Moments later, they arrived at the chamber once again.
Unlike their first arrival, the place was eerily quiet as no Common Specters were lurking in the corners or creeping along the walls. The lingering silence felt heavier now, almost respectful… or fearful.
The remnants of the first statue Narvel had destroyed were still there.
As soon as they stepped inside, three statues at the far end of the room turned slowly. Their heads pivoted toward the entrance, stone eyes locked onto Narvel with unmistakable fury carved into their features. The weight of their gazes was oppressive, like boulders pressing on his chest.
One statue gripped a halberd, its blade wide and jagged. Another wielded a long. The third clutched a broad saber, its edge chipped but no less menacing.
Narvel's lips curled into a smirk, also eager. His muscles tensed beneath the filth still clinging to his skin. He welcomed the challenge.
Unlike the mindless swarms of Common Specters, these Uncommon ones had pattern—intention. He noticed it now: they attacked in sequence. First one. Then two. And now, three. A test, perhaps. Or a ritual. Whatever it was, Narvel welcomed it.
He raised Ebonveil slightly and uttered just one word:
"Come."
The three statues moved.
In a sudden, coordinated motion, they surged forward. Their feet thudded against the ground in rhythm, their weapons raised and poised to strike. The air trembled faintly with their momentum.
But this time, Narvel didn't need to rely on his [Mind's Eye] or even his [True Double] attribute. His perception had sharpened. Their movements, while fast, now felt readable and within reach. Their speed no longer looked supernatural. If anything, it was manageable.
With a low breath, he leaned forward and pushed off the ground, channeling the strength in his legs. His body blurred as he dashed forward, closing the distance between them at a speed that nearly mirrored theirs—if not slightly faster.
He set his sights on the halberd-wielder first, approaching it in a direct line. Ebonveil gleamed in his hands. The statue, anticipating an attack, raised its halberd in defense. But Narvel had no intention of clashing just yet.
At the last moment, he bent his knees and leaped, soaring clean over the hulking stone figure. The statue's head turned in slow reaction, confused for just an instant.
Mid-air, Narvel twisted and brought Ebonveil down in a sweeping arc—not toward the halberd-wielder, but toward the saber-armed Specter just behind.
The creature raised its weapon, trying to deflect the strike.
Ebonveil's blade hummed as it sliced downward. The saber cracked in two like glass under a hammer, and the blade didn't stop. It cleaved straight through the statue's face, chest, and down to its waist, splitting the creature with frightening precision.
With one brutal strike, the statue froze and then collapsed in pieces, disintegrating into mist and gravel.
Essence flowed immediately from its shattered core into Ebonveil, which pulsed once in satisfaction.
Narvel landed cleanly on the other side of the corpse, not even looking back.
One down. Two to go.