I shouldn't touch it.
That thought is clear. Rational. Correct.
My hand still moves.
The chamber is smaller than I imagined—round, compressed, as if the dungeon itself tightened around what it hides. The air here doesn't circulate properly. It rests. Heavy. Thick. Every breath feels borrowed.
At the center floats the mana art.
Not a scroll.
Not a crystal.
A shape.
A slab of darkness folded into itself, edges undefined, surface swallowing the dim light around it. No inscriptions. No runes. Just absence given form.
Black Nox.
The moment I step closer, my mana reacts—not flaring, not resisting.
It withdraws.
Like an animal recognizing a predator it cannot fight.
I swallow.
My status window flickers at the edge of my vision, unstable, as if unsure whether to exist here.
"This is it," I whisper.
No echo answers me.
I reach out.
The instant my fingers make contact, the world slips.
The darkness liquefies.
Not dripping. Not flowing.
Unfolding.
The black mass rises, stretching upward, thick and viscous like solid oil pulled by invisible threads. It shapes itself slowly, deliberately—torso, limbs, a head-like curve.
A humanoid.
No face.
No eyes.
No mouth.
Yet I know it's looking at me.
My heart slams against my ribs.
I try to step back.
My legs don't respond.
The thing moves.
Its arm extends—fluid reshaping itself into a crude hand. No fingers. Just tapered extensions that suggest intent.
"Wait—"
Too late.
It presses forward.
The black fluid touches my lips.
Cold.
Not freezing—empty.
It pushes inside.
My mouth opens involuntarily as the substance pours in, thick and suffocating. It doesn't burn. It doesn't tear.
It invades.
I choke, staggering as the fluid seeps into my nose, my ears, slipping past every boundary I thought I owned. My vision darkens at the edges as something slides down my throat, into my lungs, into my core.
I fall to my knees.
Breathe.
I can't.
The world narrows to sensation—pressure behind my eyes, a crushing weight in my chest, a presence spreading through me like ink through water.
This is it.
This is where the novel kills me.
But then—
The pressure stops.
Not receding.
Settling.
The black fluid withdraws from the air, sealing itself inside me. My lungs gasp, dragging air in violently. I collapse forward, palms scraping stone, retching uselessly.
Silence.
When I look up again, the humanoid is gone.
The chamber is empty.
The mana art—gone.
Nothing remains where it floated.
Except me.
I cough once more and force myself upright, shaking, sweat soaking through my clothes. My core feels… wrong. Not damaged.
Occupied.
Something rests there now. Heavy. Still.
Watching.
My status window snaps fully into view without my command.
===Status===
Name: Eren VeridianRank: F+
Strength: F+Speed: F+Stamina: EMana: F (Unstable)Luck: BCharm: C
Skills:
Calm Mind (C)
Arts:
★★★ Basic Sword Art — Practitioner
★★★★★★★★★ Black Nox — Unbound
Debuffs:
None
====================
I stare at the screen.
The debuffs are gone.
Mana Erosion—gone.Void Chill—gone.
Replaced by something far worse.
Or far better.
Black Nox sits there quietly, nine stars burning dull and absolute. No description. No guidance. No warnings.
Just a name.
My mana churns uneasily, slipping between stability and collapse. Still F. Still weak. Still mine.
But deeper now.
Layered.
I press a hand against my chest.
There's no pain.
No voice.
No instructions.
Only a sense of weight, like gravity increased slightly inside me.
"…So this is your way," I murmur hoarsely.
Not domination.
Not possession.
Coexistence.
I don't feel stronger.
I feel changed.
As I push myself to my feet, my legs tremble—not from exhaustion, but from adjustment. Every movement feels fractionally slower, heavier, as if my body is learning to carry something new.
I don't try to use it.
That would be suicide.
Instead, I turn and leave the chamber.
The dungeon doesn't resist me.
It feels… finished.
When I finally stumble out into the upper tunnels, light stabs at my eyes. I suck in air greedily, leaning against the wall, laughing weakly.
I survived.
Barely.
Black Nox didn't make me powerful.
It made me eligible.
And somehow, I know—
This is only the beginning.