Furball let out a soft meow as I set her down on the small makeshift bed I'd made. I'd used some spare clothes from my ring to create a cozy little nest, folding them to cushion the ground.

  “There,” I said softly, watching as it circled the pile once before curling into a fluffy ball, its tail twitching. “Comfy now, you little tyrant?”

  She blinked up at me with those round, amber eyes, letting out a contented purr before nuzzling into the makeshift bedding. I sighed, running a hand through my matted hair. “At least one of us gets to relax.”

  The kitten stretched lazily, a tiny paw reaching out to grab at nothing before it yawned. Her tiny pink tongue flicked out, and for a moment, I forgot about the agony coursing through my body.

  “You rest here, no more distraction now…the corruption thankfully hasn’t grown at all since the fight, but it fucking hurts, man…” I muttered, shaking my head. Turning my attention away from the tiny ball of fluff, I focused on my next task—getting out of my armor. It is not going to be easy. The right side wasn’t too bad. I unstrapped the plates and peeled them off slowly, wincing as dried blood pulled at my skin beneath. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through my battered muscles, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through. The left side, though? That was another story entirely.

  “Fuck me sideways…” I groaned, staring at the mangled mess of armor covering my ruined shoulder.

  The metal was bent and cracked in places, and my shoulder throbbed with every tiny movement. Blood had seeped through the gaps, caking the inside with a sticky, rust-colored residue that glued it to my skin. I gripped the edge of the shoulder piece, trying to pull it free, but the pain was immediate and excruciating.

  “ARGH—fuck!” I hissed, clenching my jaw as I stopped. For a moment, I just sat there, breathing heavily through my nose as my vision swam.

  "Man, this is ridiculous,” I muttered, glaring at the armor as if it had personally offended me. The kitten perked up at my voice, letting out a questioning meow as she tilted her head to the side.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just… figuring out if I should cut this damn sleeve off or keep torturing myself.”

  It let out another soft meow, pawing at the edge of its little bed. I chuckled bitterly. “You’re not much help, you know that?”

  It didn’t seem to care, flopping back down and curling into its little nest again. With a frustrated sigh, I went back to work. After almost 40 minutes of hard work—cursing, hissing in pain, and pausing to catch my breath—I finally removed the last piece of armor. By the time I was done, I was drenched in sweat, my left arm hanging uselessly at my side.

  “Fucking hell,” I muttered, tossing the mangled piece of metal aside. “El, you really need to design something less… painful to get out of."

  I stood there for a moment, catching my breath as I stared at the mess of armor lying in a heap on the ground. The blackened blood and scratches told the story of last night’s battle, a grim reminder of just how close I had come to dying. But there was no time to dwell on that. Stripping everything else away—my undershirt, trousers, boots—I stood bare under the faint light filtering through the forest. It felt strange, vulnerable, but I had a feeling that what I was about to do wasn’t going to be neat.

  “Alright,” I muttered, turning toward the kitten. “You stay put, okay? I don’t want you to get caught up in whatever this is.” The kitten opened one eye, blinking at me lazily before letting out a tiny yawn.

  “Lazy little thing,” I said with a faint grin.

  I reached into my ring and pulled out the blood essence from the shaman, the glowing sphere of liquid pulsing faintly in the dim light. Its presence was overwhelming, even now. I could feel the raw power radiating from it, a steady thrum that seemed to vibrate in my very bones. With a deep breath, I placed my ring and other belongings near the kitten’s makeshift bed. It wasn’t ideal—I felt like I was leaving everything important too far from me—but this wasn’t something I could risk doing with distractions.

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  “This better work…” I muttered, turning toward the ritual nexus.

  The nexus still pulsed faintly, the moat of blood surrounding it rippling with an unnatural energy. The blood hadn’t dried or disappeared, despite the chaos of the previous night. It was as if the ritual had left something behind, a lingering presence that refused to fade. As I limped toward it, the glowing sphere in my hand seemed to respond, its pulse quickening slightly. El's words echoed softly in my mind. It felt like a warning from ages past: You can have only five essences at most. Choose carefully. Each one binds to either a physical or mental aspect of your being.

  I stared down at the essence, its light reflecting in my tired, pale blue eyes. So the shaman had carried it in its mind, which suggested it had been tied to its mental abilities. The berserk goblin’s essence, by contrast, had been in its chest, linked to its raw physical strength.

  And then there was me. I was already carrying the mutation essence, bound to my body or the physical aspect, I think. I could feel it in every inch of my flesh, in the way my muscles responded with unnatural strength, in the lingering scars that refused to fade.

  “Alright,” I muttered, staring into the glowing sphere. “Blood essence. Where do you go?”

  The answer was obvious. The recent battles had driven it home—my body was breaking down too easily. I had been lucky so far, but without a way to heal, to reinforce my life force, I wasn’t going to survive much longer. I made up my mind.

  “Blood for blood,” I said softly, my voice steady. “You’re going into my veins.”

  With the decision made, I stepped toward the nexus, the glowing sphere in hand. The blood in the moat seemed to react to the essence, rippling more violently as I approached. The faint pull I’d felt earlier grew stronger, like an invisible thread connecting the two.

  “Here goes nothing,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the essence.

  Fuuu…

  I took a deep breath, standing at the center of the ritual site. The blood moat around me rippled and churned, reacting to the essence in my hand. Its pulsing light grew brighter, the glow casting twisted shadows across the ground as if the blood itself were alive, hungry, and waiting for something. The air was thick, heavy with the stench of iron and decay. Each breath burned in my lungs, and the weight of everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the sheer insanity of it all—settled on my shoulders like a boulder. I looked down at myself and couldn’t help but grimace.

  “… I look like hell.”

  My body was a mess, bruised skin. Every inch of me was covered in dried blood, dirt, and deep, angry welts. My left arm was the worst—it hung uselessly at my side, its color a sickening shade of purple, with dark veins crawling like spider webs from the wound.

  “Huh…” I muttered, frowning as I examined it more closely.

  The sight tugged at a faint memory, one that surfaced from somewhere deep in my mind. El. He’d had a wound like this once—a similar blackened, veined mess that had taken his life.

  “Did they face outer monsters there too? Is that why their party was wiped…so many questions," I murmured, my voice bitter. I shook my head, a humorless laugh escaping my lips.

  The kitten’s faint meow echoed in my mind, and I glanced over my shoulder toward the log where it was nestled safely.

  “Well, at least one of us doesn’t have to deal with this shit,” I muttered, my lips curling into a half-smile before I turned my attention back to the task at hand.

  The blood essence in my palm pulsed again, its warmth seeping into my skin.

  Fuu.

  With another deep breath, I steadied myself, channeling Exira through my body. The familiar hum of energy burned faintly in my veins, dulling the edges of my pain just enough for me to focus. Slowly, I brought my right hand to my left forearm, gripping the blade I’d unsheathed earlier.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I muttered.

  With a quick, practiced motion, I made a shallow cut across my hand. Blood welled up immediately, dark and sluggish as it dripped to the ground. But then something strange happened—something that made me freeze.

  The blood didn’t fall. Instead, it reversed course, flowing back into the cut as if drawn by some invisible force.

  "Wow…" I whispered, watching in stunned silence. The sensation was warm, almost soothing, as if my own body were rejecting the idea of losing even a single drop. The essence in my hand pulsed harder, brighter, and I felt it begin to melt, its liquid form seeping into my skin.

  “Here we go,” I growled, clenching my teeth as I gripped the essence tighter. The moment it entered my bloodstream, I felt it—an intense, stinging warmth that spread through me like wildfire. My veins burned, my muscles twitched, and my breath hitched as the sensation grew stronger, hotter, and more overwhelming.

  “FUCK!” I shouted, my voice raw and strained as I staggered back.

  I raised Exira to Level 1, letting the energy flow through me in an attempt to stabilize myself. The familiar hum helped, anchoring me just enough to keep my balance as the essence worked its way deeper into my body.

  The blood surrounding the ritual site began to rise, swirling upward in thick, crimson tendrils. They coiled around me like serpents, their movements slow and deliberate, as if they were alive. I felt a pull—strong, unrelenting—as the blood reached out, wrapping around my limbs, my torso, and my head.

  It wasn’t hostile.

  It was… curious.

  The tendrils tightened their grip, and before I could react, they pulled me down.

  “Shit—!”

  The blood enveloped me completely, forming a cocoon that cut me off from the outside world. Everything went dark; the only sound was the faint, rhythmic pulse of the blood around me. I could feel my consciousness slipping; the exhaustion and pain were dragging me down into an inescapable void.

  HOUSE OF END DISCORD

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