As Kale lay on the ground, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, he could feel the weight of his cursed talent pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. Blood dripped from a deep gash in his arm, and his vision was blurring from exhaustion. The kobold circled him, its feral eyes gleaming with the certainty of its impending victory. Its claws, sharp and glistening, scraped against the ground as it prepared for the final blow.
Sage's Eyes (S1) had been active for some time, but it wasn't helping enough. Through its power, Kale could see the kobold's stats clearly: higher agility, monstrous strength, a hulking defense. Every move he made was slow, every action calculated but doomed to fail against the sheer power of his foe. His skills had been activated, but the cost was more than he had anticipated.
The power from Nandaki (S1) surged through his sword, making it a weapon of immense destruction, but it drained his chakra at a rate that was terrifying. His legs trembled beneath him, and every swing of his blade felt like he was pulling his limbs through quicksand. His body screamed for rest, but there was no rest in the trials—only survival or death.
The kobold lunged, and this time, it was faster than before. Kale barely managed to raise his sword in time, blocking the strike, but the force of the impact sent him skidding back, his boots digging trenches into the earth. His arms shook under the weight of his weapon. He felt the pulse of mana flowing through Nandaki, but his reserves were dwindling fast, and each strike chipped away at what little he had left.
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, his voice hoarse. The kobold, undeterred, growled and charged again. Kale's mind raced. He needed to think. He had all the tools—he could see the beast's stats, its weak points—but his body wouldn't respond. His legs felt like lead. His arms were shaking.
It swung its claws, and Kale jumped back, narrowly avoiding the attack. But his footing was off. The ground beneath him shifted, and he slipped. In an instant, the kobold was on him, its claws grazing his shoulder. A line of burning pain shot through his body as he stumbled, barely keeping his balance. The only thing keeping him upright was the sword in his hand, glowing ominously, drinking away his mana like a parasite.
"Move! MOVE!" Kale's mind screamed, but his body resisted. He was drained—his cursed talent had pushed the trial to its breaking point, and his own skills were taking more than they were giving.
The kobold didn't relent. It came at him again, faster, this time aiming for his throat. Kale raised his sword to block, but he was too slow. The claws raked across his chest, cutting through his shirt and leaving a trail of blood. He staggered back, his vision swimming from the pain.
"I... I can't... keep this up," he muttered. His thoughts were jumbled, unfocused. His chakra reserves were nearly depleted, and the power from Nandaki felt more like a curse than a blessing now. The sword, enhanced to deliver devastating blows, had already drained almost everything he had left. He couldn't sustain it much longer.
The kobold sensed his weakness and pressed its advantage. It feinted to the left, then struck from the right, its claws aiming for his side. Kale twisted, trying to dodge, but his body moved sluggishly. The claws tore through his side, and he screamed, falling to one knee as blood poured from the wound.
For a moment, everything seemed to blur. The kobold's roars, the burning pain in his body, the weight of the sword—it all became distant noise. He could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears, feel the warmth of his blood seeping into the ground. The fight was slipping away from him, and he knew it.
But then, something flickered inside him.
It wasn't strength. It wasn't some sudden surge of power. It was anger. A deep, simmering anger, not at the kobold, not even at his cursed talent—but at himself. At the feeling of helplessness, of being too weak, of always falling short. He had come this far, survived this long, only to fail again?
No. He couldn't accept that.
Gritting his teeth, Kale forced himself to stand. His legs trembled, his body screamed in protest, but he stood. The kobold snarled, but Kale didn't waver. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. He had one chance left—one final strike before his body gave out completely.
The kobold charged, and this time, Kale didn't back away. He stepped forward, meeting the beast head-on. With a burst of chakra—whatever little he had left—he surged forward, swinging his sword with all the strength he could muster. Nandaki flared with power, its glow intensifying as the blade cut through the air, aimed directly at the kobold's exposed neck.
The blade connected.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The kobold's eyes widened in shock as Kale's sword sliced clean through its neck, severing its head from its body in a single, decisive strike. Black blood sprayed from the wound, coating Kale in a sticky, warm film, but he didn't care.
The kobold's body collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, its head rolling away, eyes still open in disbelief.
Kale stood there, panting, his entire body trembling. His vision blurred, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to the ground, the sword slipping from his grasp as he fell onto his back, staring up at the sky.
It was over. He had won.
But the victory felt hollow. The pain in his body was overwhelming, his chakra reserves completely spent. He had nothing left. The cursed talent, Greater Risk, Greater Reward (Ex1), had pushed him to his absolute limit, and he wasn't sure he could keep going like this.
But for now, at least, he had survived.
And survival, in this cursed trial, was victory enough.
[Level up!]
[Level up!]
[Level up!]
[Level up!]
[Level up!]