As my proficiency continued to decrease, so did my understanding of the Original Tongue of the End deepen. It became less about distinct abilities and more about a singular, overarching concept. My previous 'skills' were mere dialects of this ultimate language of reality.
The Tongue of Death, my most frequently used insight, refined itself. It wasn't just about regeneration and absorbing energy. I began to speak to it directly, not in words, but in resonance. I could exert a more direct influence over the 'death' of living things, subtly weakening their life force, making them fragile, or even, in desperate moments, triggering a premature end with a touch. The death energy I absorbed became purer, more concentrated, allowing me to heal almost instantaneously and fueling a physical prowess that dwarfed any human capability.
The Tongue of Corrosion also evolved. It wasn't just physical decay. I found I could subtly corrupt the very structure of things, not just on the surface, but from within. A metal door could rust away into powder in seconds, a stone wall could crumble into sand. Later, in an experiment that nearly cost me several cycles of death and rebirth, I discovered I could even apply it to less tangible things. The 'corrosion' of an enemy's will, for instance, inducing panic or a sudden, debilitating fear that corroded their courage. It was insidious, terrifying, and utterly effective.
But the most profound changes came from the glimpses I gained into the core of the Tongue of the End. It was not merely about causing death or decay; it was about the absolute cessation of existence, the finality that underpins all things. Sometimes, after absorbing a particularly potent death, I would glimpse faint, ethereal forms – echoes of beings whose existence had been erased from reality entirely, their very memory beginning to corrode. This wasn't about strength anymore; it was about understanding the fundamental fabric of what was and what wasn't.
My combat style became less about brawling and more about surgical precision. I could sense weaknesses, predict movements, and apply the appropriate 'tongue' to achieve the fastest, most energy-efficient kill. The more fluid my command over these "tongues," the quicker the percentage dropped. -88%... -85%... -82%...
The solitude was absolute, broken only by the snarls of monsters and the occasional, unsettling silence that followed their absorption. I never encountered another living human. The city was a graveyard, and I, its grim reaper, growing more powerful with every harvest. The memory of my family, of my brother Azrael, became a flickering candle in the storm of my transformation, a grounding force, a reminder of why I pushed through this endless cycle of violence. I needed answers. And those answers, I was certain, lay within Babel.