Noctis, who had not fully recovered and was still in pain throughout his body—especially in his throat and arm—froze.

  ...Had he heard wrong? Law of the Chain?

  Noctis let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor.

  "...I just got a flaw; this is some kind of joke, right?"

  He had assumed that, since he didn't have a Class, the law of the chain would not affect him, right? After all, he's a damn defect, a useless... a damn classless!

  Noctis was processing it; the voice of the Abyss didn't seem to be joking, and it was playing a very bad joke on him.

  "Damn it!"

  He cursed under his breath; he didn't want several Remnants coming to look for him in a friendly manner. He clenched his teeth... he didn't know if it was out of anger or because of the pain he was feeling.

  Noctis sighed and looked at the description of the damn flaw he had just obtained.

  Flaw: [Liturgy of the Broken Soul.]

  Flaw Description: [Each ability created: the pain will be proportional to the power claimed.]

  Noctis' expression darkened. Every Skill he created would cause unimaginable pain... and, based on the description, he deduced that the larger the core used, the more intense the pain would be.

  He shuddered violently. If he wants to become stronger, he will suffer what a beautiful and splendid path awaits him if he wants revenge on the family that left him with nothing after his awakening.

  Noctis held his bruised arm with a frown, stood up, and sat back down on the stone bench. He settled himself carefully and looked at his attribute points, which he had 5 of.

  Strength: 8 | Dexterity: 7 | Constitution: 8 | Mana: 5

  Attribute Points: 5

  Strength and dexterity should be evident; Constitution was an attribute that was part of vitality and health.

  Now, mana. According to what he had been taught in the Clan, it served both to strengthen his body and to utilize his abilities.

  ...Although Noctis did not make use of this energy when fighting the Hollows. But he has to learn to control it if he wants to increase his chances of surviving in this prison.

  "Which attributes should I improve..."

  He looked at the runes for a moment before making a decision, and with a thought, he used two points on Constitution and the remaining three on Mana.

  Noctis felt the change immediately. Above all, the pain in his body had lessened a little, although that didn't make much difference.

  He stood up, frowning and clenching his teeth. Outside the cell, the squeaking continued. Hollows roamed the prison, trapped in their eternal existence.

  Noctis looked at the skeleton one last time.

  Then he pushed open the cell door and returned to the green-lit hallway.

  Now he had a Skill.

  One Skill against a prison full of Hollows, fairly balanced... but it was more than he had had in a while.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  And if he wanted more, if he wanted to survive, grow strong enough to make his father regret discarding him, he needed more cores.

  Which meant more fights.

  Noctis began walking deeper into the prison.

  The grinding noises grew louder.

  And in the green light, his shadow stretched behind him: thin and dark and carrying a broken sword.

  ...

  Noctis moved through the prison with his broken sword held high, his steps careful and deliberate.

  The green light made everything look sickly. Shadows gathered in the corners like living beings. Water dripped from cracks in the ceiling, and each drop echoed in the stone corridors that seemed to stretch on forever.

  He had left the guard's cell ten minutes earlier.

  The corridor continued straight for twenty meters before branching off. To the left was a wide corridor with cells on both sides. To the right, the entire path was littered with debris.

  Noctis went to the left.

  Most of the cells were empty, with the doors open or completely torn off. In some, he saw human bones, still wearing tattered prison uniforms. In others, only rust stains on the stone.

  He passed a cell where a skeleton sat against the wall, knees drawn up and skull tilted forward as if it had simply decided to stop and never move again.

  Noctis did not stop to investigate.

  The chirping sounds were now distant. The Hollows seemed to be concentrated in the lower sections. This level was quieter.

  Which should have been comforting.

  It wasn't.

  The emptiness meant there were no immediate threats. But it also meant there could be a Profane Class Remnant.

  The passageway led to a larger chamber, perhaps a kind of common area. Stone benches lined the walls. In the center stood a dry fountain, its basin cracked and filled with stagnant water that reflected the green light in oily patterns.

  Noctis approached cautiously.

  The water was black and thick. As he got closer, he smelled rotten vegetation.

  He backed away.

  On the other side of the chamber, three doors led into the depths. The one on the left was sealed with rubble. The one in the middle opened onto such complete darkness that not even the green light penetrated it.

  The right door had something carved on it.

  Noctis approached to read the inscription.

  Administration - Domain of the Guardian.

  Noctis stared at the words. He looked at the middle door, which was filled with impenetrable darkness.

  Then he returned to the right door leading to the Guardian's domain.

  None of the options appealed to him.

  But standing still made no sense.

  He chose the middle path.

  The darkness was absolute.

  Not just the absence of light, but something denser. Heavier. As if the air itself had solidified into black tar.

  Noctis kept one hand on the wall and moved forward by touch alone. The broken sword was in his other hand, ready to attack, though he had no idea what he would do if something attacked him in his blindness.

  His footsteps echoed strangely, not only in front and behind him, but from incomprehensible angles as if the hallway were larger than it should be.

  After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only two minutes, he saw light ahead.

  This time it wasn't green.

  Blue.

  Faint, like starlight shining through deep water.

  The hallway opened onto a chamber, and Noctis stopped at the threshold.

  The room was circular, about fifteen meters wide. The walls were covered with the same ancient writing from the diary, in Latin, but these carvings glowed with a soft blue light. In the center of the chamber was a pedestal, and on it rested a small chest.

  Noctis didn't move.

  All his instincts screamed trap.

  The chest in the middle of the room was never just a chest. They were bait. Lures. Ways to kill the greedy or the desperate.

  But he was desperate.

  He needed every advantage he could get.

  Slowly and carefully, he entered the chamber.

  Nothing happened.

  He took another step.

  Still nothing.

  The glowing letters on the walls seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, but that could have been his imagination.

  He reached the pedestal.

  The chest looked ordinary.

  Made of dark wood, reinforced with thin bands of iron blackened by moisture, it rested in the center of the chamber like any other forgotten treasure. There were no visible runes or ominous aura to give it away—only dust accumulated in the corners and the faint smell of confinement.

  Even the lock looked simple.

  Too simple.

  Noctis bent down slightly. His fingers brushed against the wood.

  Cold.

  And slightly... soft.

  ...Spoft?

  The change was instantaneous.

  The wood creaked under his touch, not like wood, but like flesh tensing. The grain twisted, swelling like veins beneath withered skin. The iron bands snapped with a sharp crack as the entire structure began to expand.

  The chest rose.

  It grew.

  The hinges creaked... and then screamed.

  The lid opened by itself, but it was no longer a lid.

  It was a jaw.

  Rows of yellowish teeth emerged from the inner edge, long and curved, snapping together with a wet crack. The wood tore apart, and from the darkness inside, something fleshy stirred.

  A thick, slimy tongue slithered out, dripping a thick substance that hissed as it touched the stone floor.

  Legs sprouted from the base, bony and misshapen, lifting the monster's mass several feet above the ground. The body swelled, doubling in size in a matter of seconds.

  The jaw descended.

  Noctis raised the broken sword.

  '...Damn it!'