The Chasm Dweller fought like a monstrosity, inherently true to its nature. But Auren would be making a careless mistake if he underestimated its erraticness. Its movements—violent, unorthodox—defied predictability. It wasn't just wild; it was instinctually strategic.
Like when it struck him across the chest.
Auren had executed the perfect block—or so he thought. But in the blink of an eye, the Cursed abomination had adapted. It hadn't been mindless, nor had it followed a pattern. For that brief moment, it had fought like a hunter—a desperate one, driven not just by savagery but by an unyielding will to kill.
That was what he needed to remember.
The creature could be unpredictable, but that wasn't its greatest strength.
It wasn't intelligence that made it dangerous—it was its predatory instincts.
Apex predators didn't think in complexities. They crushed, they devoured, they overwhelmed.
And instincts could be exploited.
Auren shifted his stance, forcing himself to breathe. Steady. Controlled.
If he just dodged, he'd be delaying death. If he just defended, he'd be wasting time.
But if he controlled the battlefield—if he dictated the next move—
His eyes flicked to the creature's spiked back.
Auren's grip on his sword tightened.
The creature lunged.
This time, he didn't retreat.
He charged.
The Chasm Dweller swung—a claw meant to rip him apart.
Auren twisted—not to evade, but to redirect.
His chains snapped forward.
The shackles coiled around the jagged spikes protruding from its back. The moment they latched on, he used the beast's momentum to propel himself upward.
His body lurched—flipping over its massive arm, riding the movement up its towering form.
Boots slammed against the spikes, each step using them like footholds on a ladder.
The monster howled, convulsing violently, thrashing to throw him off.
But Auren climbed.
Faster.
Higher.
His breath burned in his throat. His muscles screamed. But he climbed.
Until he reached the base of its skull.
The Chasm Dweller reared, screeching in agony, its entire body writhing.
Auren didn't hesitate.
He drove his sword into the spike closest to him.
The blade sank in with a sickening crunch—surprisingly, the base where the spikes merged with the flesh wasn't nearly as tough as the rest of the creature.
A vulnerability.
Auren's grin turned sharp.
The spike's root was tender. That was where the beast's weakness lay.
Wasting no time, he slashed his sword across another spike, severing it at the base. Letting the weapon drop for just a heartbeat, he reached down, seized the freed spike, and ripped it from the creature's body.
Now he had two weapons—twisted, jagged, and cruel.
His footing was unstable, the beast's back bucking beneath him, but he gritted his teeth and held on.
Without hesitation, Auren drove the first spike into the beast's back.
It sank deep.
The creature shrieked, the cry so raw, so guttural that Auren felt the vibrations rattle through his bones.
The sound of something evil in agony.
His arms trembled. His lungs burned.
But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Because this was his chance to kill it.
And he would not waste it.
He plunged the spike deep—again and again—into several points along the monster's back. Each stab sent the Chasm Dweller into a frenzy, shrieking in raw, violent agony.
Auren almost lost his footing more than once, the beast thrashing beneath him, but he latched on—unrelenting, clinging like a parasite too stubborn to die.
Then his gaze locked onto something.
A point.
A gap.
Right between the armored plates of its neck.
Auren's pulse hammered. That was it. The one unmistakable weakness—fatal enough to end this.
A joint.
And he was sure—absolutely certain—that it connected into the creature's mouth. A respiratory organ, maybe? He hadn't seen the monster possess lungs or any normal means of breathing.
So, in a way... this was like killing something through its nose.
His grip tightened. His teeth clenched.
The Chasm Dweller bucked harder, desperate now, determined to throw him off.
But Auren refused to fall.
He drove another spike into its hide—an anchor—then climbed. Higher. A single, brutal step closer to the gap.
His breath came in ragged, burning gasps. His muscles screamed.
But he wrenched out the spike—
And, locking a death glare onto the exposed joint, he drove the first spike into the gap.
The Chasm Dweller's scream tore through the air, a sound so harrowing that Auren felt it vibrate through his bones.
He didn't stop.
Wasting no time, he ripped the second spike free—
And plunged it into the same gap.
Another scream. Deafening. Earth-shaking.
The creature thrashed, convulsed.
But Auren held on.
And with every ounce of strength left in his body—
He twisted both spikes.
Something snapped.
The roar died.
And the Chasm Dweller collapsed.
Auren barely registered the impact, his body thrown clear as he hit the ground, gasping, rolling away from the monster's lifeless corpse.
His vision blurred. His breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts.
But he was alive.
And he had won.
[You have slain a Major Blighted, Chasm Dweller]
[You have devoured a curse]
[The curse of your soul grows stronger]
[You have gained a shard]
[A Cursed Soul Heart is forming in the depths of your soul]
The voice carried a strange weight—melancholic, almost… disappointed.
Auren barely had time to process it. He wanted to speak—to question it—
But then—
A pain unlike anything he had ever known wrenched through him.
It wasn't just pain.
It was something deeper. Something primal.
Something that clawed into his very soul and ripped it apart from within.
His body convulsed. His vision darkened. His breath seized.
And as the agony swallowed him whole—
He crumbled to the ground.