Creed’s eyes snapped open, and he imdiately shot up with a sharp intake of breath, his body tense, his mind racing, ready to fight.
His fingers twitched instinctively, expecting to find his spear, but when no enemy lunged at him, when no imdiate danger presented itself, he hesitated.
His breathing slowed as his gaze darted around, scanning his surroundings.
He was in another chamber. This was another dark red cavern, its walls pulsating faintly like the inside of so colossal living beast.
The air was thick, heavy, tinged with the scent of iron and sothing ancient.
Creed’s muscles, aching from battle, forced him to take a deep breath as he steadied himself.
The last thing he rembered was unleashing that terrifying red strike.
At that mont, everything had clicked. His spear had moved not with thought, but with sothing deeper.
A state beyond instinct. A mont of complete, true enlightennt.
His heart pounded as the mory of it flooded back; the way power had surged through his veins like a dam finally breaking, an unstoppable tide surging forward.
He had understood sothing... no, he had beco sothing. His mind, still hazy from exhaustion, urged him to confirm what he already knew.
’Right, I got so system notifications, right?’
With a thought, he brought up his system interface and checked his previous notifications.
A familiar screen flashed before him.
[Congratulations! Host has comprehended the Path of Killing!]
Creed blinked, his mind still sluggish, but the words Path of Killing stood out like burning embers in his brain.
A path? His brows furrowed. He had heard of intents before; Sword Intent, Spear Intent, Lightning Intent etc.
They were understandings that warriors used to enhance their attacks, to beco more in tune with their weapons or elents.
But a path? What the hell was a path? Was it the sa thing?
He hadn’t tried, but sohow... sohow, he felt that this wasn’t like an intent. It was sothing deeper, broader, stronger.
Unlike an intent, which was a re boost, this felt like sothing that shaped his very existence.
He could tell he could use it just like an intent—to make his spear strikes sharper, his movents deadlier—but there was sothing else.
Sothing he didn’t understand yet.
He clicked his tongue. "System, what the hell is a path?" he asked aloud.
Silence.
Of course. He should’ve known. The system, in all its frustrating glory, never answered the important questions!
He sighed and pushed himself up from the cold, smooth floor, shaking off the lingering fatigue.
His body felt weak, drained, almost as if sothing had taken everything from him, and yet, at the sa ti, he could feel it. He was stronger.
Not just in terms of physical power, but in a way he couldn’t describe. He rolled his shoulders, letting out a slow breath.
"Focus, Creed. First, figure out where the hell you are," he muttered to himself.
Now that his head was clearer, he took in the chamber properly.
It was smaller than the battlefield where he had fought the golems, though still dimly lit by that eerie crimson glow.
His sharp gaze swept across the space until it landed on sothing that made his breath catch.
Three podiums.
Creed’s mind clicked into place. He had passed the trials!
Whether it was because he had killed all those golems or because his comprehension of the Path of Killing had fulfilled so condition, it didn’t matter.
He had completed the trial. And now ca the best part.
The reward!
Excitent bubbled in his chest as he stepped forward, his exhaustion montarily forgotten.
His boots echoed against the stone floor as he approached the podiums, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
His hands itched to see, to touch, to claim whatever was waiting for him. His gaze landed on the leftmost podium first.
And the mont he laid eyes on what rested atop it, his breath hitched.
A spear.
But not just any spear.
It was long, thick, and entirely deep red. It was almost translucent, like a crystal forged from solidified blood.
The shaft was smooth, gleaming, with vein-like patterns running along its length, pulsating faintly as if it were alive.
The blade at its tip was a wicked fusion of a spearhead and a scythe’s curve, sharp enough to pierce and slice effortlessly.
Even from where he stood, he could feel it. The sheer weight of its presence, the killing intent rolling off it in waves, as if the weapon itself had tasted more blood than any human ever could.
For a mont, Creed simply stared, his fingers twitching with an undeniable urge.
"Well... damn," he breathed, a grin slowly creeping onto his lips. "Now this is a weapon."
Even without touching it, he could tell this was no ordinary weapon. This was a soul weapon!
His breath hitched slightly as realization dawned upon him. A soul weapon wasn’t just any weapon artifact.
It was a weapon that could bond with him, grow alongside him, strengthen as he did. It wouldn’t be sothing he would outgrow in a few years or trade for a better one.
It would be his, for life. A true companion in battle.
What made it even more terrifying was its natural connection to killing intent.
That ant that his newly comprehended Path of Killing would resonate with it perfectly.
If he bound with this weapon, his attacks using the path would be significantly stronger, sharper, deadlier.
The sheer synergy between his newfound power and this spear would make him a walking calamity on the battlefield.
Temptation clawed at him. His fingers twitched at the thought of picking it up, of making it his, of feeling its weight in his hands and testing its power.
But, he held himself back.
Creed clenched his fists, forcing himself to calm down. There were two more options left.
He had to see all of them before making a decision, because if there was anything he had learned from past mistakes, it was that rushing into choices without thinking got him into trouble.
With a deep breath, he turned his gaze to the far-right podium.
The mont his eyes landed on the object sitting atop it, his pupils shrank.
It was a single glowing drop of blood.
Not just any blood, it shone and sparkled like a priceless jewel, its surface swirling with a crimson luster so intense that it felt like he was staring into sothing infinite.
And the aura emanating from it? Thick. Overwhelming. Choking. The killing intent surrounding it was so dense that it almost made his skin prickle!
His mind instinctively recognized what it was.
A bloodline essence!
If he absorbed this, he would gain a bloodline related to killing.
His very existence would beco more attuned to slaughter, his body and abilities would change, and his Path of Killing would be strengthened beyond belief.
His attacks would beco even more ferocious, his presence in battle would exude an aura that could terrify enemies into submission.
A natural-born killer!
Another incredibly tempting choice.
But again, Creed stopped himself. He was letting his emotions take over.
This was exactly why he needed to think things through. He clenched his jaw, steeling himself as he turned his gaze to the final podium, the one in the center.
The object placed on this podium was different from the others.
It wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t so kind of essence or power-up.
It was... a plaque.
A bold, dashing plaque—almost like a small badge. The craftsmanship was exquisite, elegant yet fierce.
At the back, three red slashes were drawn in a triangular formation, each slash seemingly made with expert precision, almost as if it had been scratched onto the surface by sothing incredibly sharp.
On the front, the number ’3’ was engraved with a sense of authority.
Creed’s eyes narrowed.
There was sothing odd about this badge. Unlike the other two rewards, this one was placed slightly higher.
That ant sothing. Whoever set up this inheritance trial had clearly valued this badge more than the other two rewards. But why?
He had no idea what it did.
He had no idea what it represented.
But if there was one thing Creed knew for sure, it was that value wasn’t always about imdiate power.
He thought back to the spear. Yes, it was incredibly powerful, but soul weapons weren’t impossible to obtain.
They were rare, expensive, but not out of reach. He could buy one later if he wanted.
He thought about the bloodline essence. It was tempting, but he didn’t want to choose a bloodline so hastily.
He had to be sure before making such a permanent decision.
But this badge?
This wasn’t sothing money could buy.
It was an identity. A status. A mystery. And mysteries often led to power that couldn’t be asured by simple logic.
His eyes glead with resolve.
"This one," he muttered, his hand reaching out.
The mont his fingers brushed against the badge, the entire chamber trembled, as if sothing ancient had been disturbed.
RUMBLE.
Small crimson stones dislodged from the ceiling, tumbling to the ground with faint clinks.
The podiums trembled slightly, and then, with a sudden pulse of energy, a portal opened at the far end of the chamber.
Creed barely had ti to process what had happened before his gaze instinctively snapped toward one of the small pebble-like red stones that had fallen nearby.
His eyes widened.
This... was a Fragnt of Killing!
He bent down and picked it up, his heart pounding. This was the sa type of fragnt that had reached out to him before, the one that had helped him understand the secrets of killing.
But what truly shocked him was when he looked up at the ceiling and realized that there were dozens more!
The ceiling and pillars of this chamber were covered in them.
His grip tightened around the fragnt in his palm.
Based on logic, he had a few minutes before the portal forcefully dragged him out of the rift.
So why waste them?
A grin stretched across his face as he cracked his knuckles.
"Alright then," he muttered, eyes gleaming. "Ti to harvest."
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