**[YOU HAVE RECEIVED THE SOUL OF. XQ7@!ZLR-T9^wG3]**
**Weird. The name was unreadable.**
**[WANT TO USE IT?]**
"Yes."
**[YOU HAVE ASSIMILATED THE SOUL OF XQ7@!ZLR-T9^wG3]**
You have gained two new skills.
**Insignificant Terror**
Memory: Born as the last of its kind and cast into the depths of the lower class, it was condemned from birth to be little more than a tool. Stripped of choice, its body was augmented, reshaped into a living weapon. It knew nothing but how to kill.
When the war was lost, it became a symbol of failure—among the first to be forced into servitude, its purpose reduced to breeding more slaves for the oppressive system. Each day, it bore the weight of its existence, a relic of a forgotten fight, enduring a life that was never truly its own.
Description: The strong will dismiss you, but the weak will cower in your presence.
Type: Passive.
**Metallomancy**
Memory: Upon returning from the surface, the Tricrown was met with the smoldering ruins of his birthplace—a place he once called home, now reduced to ash and silence. Grief consumed him, but it was quickly overshadowed by a burning hatred for the monster responsible for the carnage.
He swore vengeance, a vow carved deep into his soul. For days and nights, he hunted the creature, their battle raging across the underworld. The wounds he bore were deep, his anguish deeper still, but in the end, the Tricrown emerged victorious.
From the defeated creature, he forged a bow—a weapon of exquisite cruelty. The half-dead creature's essence was bound within, cursed to suffer eternal torment. Each time the bowstring was drawn, every arrow unleashed inflicted searing pain upon its trapped soul, echoing the agony it had once caused. The Tricrown ensured that its punishment would last forever—a relentless reminder of the loss it had wrought upon him.
Description: Metal Creation, Metal Manipulation, and Metal Amplification.
Type: Active.
I assessed the two new abilities with a critical eye, weighing their practical value and potential risks.
**Insignificant Terror** could be useful, allowing me to move unnoticed or underestimated by the strong. However, fear could breed hostility. The weak might lash out irrationally, and not cooperate when I needed them to.
**Metallomancy** was an immensely versatile skill with countless applications that adapted my needs.
I reached out and touched the bow, its surface cold and unnervingly alive beneath my fingertips.
[Bowl of Torment.]
A weapon capable of piercing any defense, no matter how impenetrable. Yet, its power came at a cost—a heavy toll on the soul bound within it.
The bow began to tremble violently in my grasp. Cracks spiderwebbed across its chitinous surface, and the eyes scattered along it wept streams of black ichor. The weapon disintegrated before my eyes, crumbling into fine dust that hung in the air for a fleeting moment before vanishing entirely.
Yet, even as it turned into nothing, I felt a sudden pull deep within me. An ethereal presence surged forward, unbidden, slipping into my body like a stream of molten light. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't entirely pleasant either.
The bowl was gone, leaving me standing in the quietness of the moldy room, feeling its power now nested somewhere deep within me.
I turned my attention to Veera, who was still sprawled on the floor, her face pale and slick with sweat. Gently, I knelt beside her and helped her sit up, supporting her trembling frame.
"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice soft with concern.
Veera took a slow, trembling breath, her face slick with sweat.
"I... I'll be fine," she murmured, though her shaky tone betrayed her exhaustion.
I signed, crouching to offer her support. Without waiting for her protests, I lifted her onto my back.
Veera staggered in surprise, her weight shifting uncertainly against me. "I said I'm fine. Put me down," feebly hitting the back of my head in protest.
But she eventually gave up the fight, resting her chin on my shoulder. Her arms tightened slightly around my neck, her breaths growing slower and more even. The tension in her body ebbed away, replaced by the soft stillness of sleep.
I adjusted Veera's weight on my back as I made my way through the dimly lit settlement.
The further I walked, the more I noticed the eyes. Refugees, and workers alike stopped what they were doing to glance my way, their gazed filled with fear and unease.
**Insignificant Terror** was at work, no doubt.
A mother hurriedly pulled her child closer as I passed. A cluster of miners halted their conversation, their laughter dying as they stiffened, their wary eyes following me until I was out of sight.
When I finally reached the area where my brood was staying, the atmosphere shifted. The tension in the air dissolved as familiar faces came into view. My broodmates stood in a loose circle, their expressions lighting up when they saw me.
"Finally decided to show up, huh?" one of them joked, a crooked grin on his face.
Another stepped closer, her eyes narrowing in mock seriousness. "What's this? Carrying Veera like a damsel in distress? What did you do on your romantic getaway?"
"She was tired," I replied simply, not rising to their teasing. "and needed help."
"Helping her, huh?" one of them chimed in, wagging his eyebrows. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
I rolled my eyes, not taking the bait. "You're all insufferable."
As I carefully lowered Veera onto a makeshift cot, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open briefly. She gave me a faint smile, her voice barely a whisper. "Thanks... slacker."
I huffed, shaking my head. "You're welcome, princess."
It seemed Veera and those who knew Ereshar wasn't affected by **Insignificant Terror**.
I couldn't help but wonder why. Whatever the reason, I had no time to dwell on it now.
I made my way toward the group that had accompanied me on my first scouting mission: Zorrik, Vorrin, Kaelith, Sylrik, and Therra.
Zorrik looked up as I approached, his face lighting up in recognition. "Well, if it isn't the big shot. How've you been?"
"I'm good," I replied with a shrug. "Living at the headquarters has its perks. Better food for one."
The group perked up at that, their expressions shifting from curiosity to hope. Kaelith leaned forward, her eyebrows raised. "Better food, huh? Think you can snag some for us next time you're there?"
Sylrik smirked. "Yeah, bring us something that doesn't taste like dirt for once."
I raised a hand, cutting off the playful demands. "I can't just go around stealing food from the headquarters," I said with a chuckle. "But how about this instead—" I glanced around at the group. "We go hunting."