Noah staggered, his breath shallow and ragged, blood dribbling from his lips like threads of ink spilled across skin.
The black energy was still pulsing in his arms, an unbearable heat crawling through his veins, but his mind—his mind—was burning faster than the infection spreading through him.
That dagger... that energy… I've seen it before.
A grim recognition dawned, slow and suffocating.
Not in this world.
No, it was back when he was nothing more than a player watching pixels move, where the battles were scripted and the fates preordained.
This ability… this blade...
He could still remember the game's later chapters—Xavier, the main character, wielding a blade.
A sword that could cut through the thickest of skins and have their bodies rapture.
This dagger… it wasn't that sword yet.
But it was the prototype.
The same cursed metal, the same gluttonous aura.
