David seemed to have fallen into a bitter struggle.
There was no helping it—the gap in skill between the two was simply too great.
In the hunter's eyes, his opponent's claws were no more threatening than a child's wild punches…
The demonic claw slammed into the earthen wall with a thunderous crash, carving deep gouges into it, yet rarely forcing the enemy to block with his sword.
The hunter seemed to have noticed the 2.5-second cooldown of David's monstrous hand, always seizing those brief gaps to launch his attacks.
David was like a boss whose mechanics had been completely figured out—slowly being chipped away by a hunter whose health was far inferior to his own, burned and cut down bit by bit…
As the battle dragged into a tense stalemate, the flames on Widens' sword finally died out.
That ability seemed to consume either spiritual power or life energy continuously—even he couldn't maintain it for long.
The hunter suddenly burst forward, then retreated again, narrowly dodging David's claw once more and pulling back to a safe distance.
With a cold sneer, he pulled out a red syringe from his waist and plunged it into his neck.
David recognized it instantly—it was a potion unique to hunters, capable of restoring life energy. Watching the opponent's health rapidly recover under its effect, a sharp glint flashed in David's eyes as he rushed forward.
"I may not have a way to heal mid-combat…"
"But if you dare to take a potion right in front of me—that's your mistake!"
The moment the monstrous hand came off cooldown, it shot forward with a whoosh.
Calm and composed, Widens raised the short gun in his left hand and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Fueled by the burning of the hunter's blood, the bullet gained unimaginable momentum. A streak of crimson light shot out, striking the exact point where the demonic claw exerted its force with flawless precision.
David felt a violent impact tear through the skin of his monstrous hand, blasting a massive hole through it. His health plummeted by over 300 points, dropping to just 935!
The sheer force threw his balance off, forcing him to stagger backward.
Hiss—!
A faint sound came from the hunter's gun. A thin silver needle extended from the grip, piercing into the hunter's veins and rapidly extracting large amounts of blood.
In the blink of an eye, a blood-red bullet formed within the barrel!
"It can fire again!?" David's eyes widened.
Bang!
Another shot erupted. This time, it struck David square in the chest—blowing away half his heart!
His health dropped by another four hundred points!
After firing two consecutive shots, Widens' face grew noticeably paler. These blood bullets consumed his own life force—hence why he had no choice but to use his only precious healing potion.
But two shots were enough.
From David's increasingly frantic and disordered attacks, he could tell—the enemy was at the end of his rope, his life energy nearly depleted.
"Now… let me finish you."
Widens dashed forward in a flash, closing the distance. He raised his gun first, aiming directly at David's forehead at point-blank range.
Just as expected, the terrified noble boy activated that strange ability—his demonic claw shot out from behind, gripping the now-empty gun tightly.
Then, with a cold smile, Widens raised his silver sword and thrust it toward David's eye…
"In the end, just a weakling with no combat experience."
"Heh… finally showed an opening. Perfect timing."
Whoosh—!
A dark crimson hand suddenly appeared, gripping Widens' head.
"…What?"
Splat.
Before the sword could pierce David's skull, the hunter's head exploded first.
The fear on David's face faded instantly, as if it had never existed.
I was acting. Heh…
The red divine corpse hand released its grip, and the headless corpse fell to the ground.
From the very beginning of the fight, he had already foreseen this outcome.
He had to make the enemy relax… had to make him believe he was out of options… had to create the illusion of slowly falling into despair.
Hunter or prey—that distinction is only decided at the very last moment.
Widens had to die here. He couldn't be allowed to escape. It had to be a guaranteed kill.
The only unexpected part of the battle had been those two devastating blood bullets.
But regardless, David still held the absolute advantage. Even after taking both shots head-on, he still possessed more life energy than the hunter at his peak.
With his spiritual energy already drained from repeatedly using the monstrous hand, he spent a full 400 points of life force in one burst—crushing his opponent instantly.
Now, he had 84 HP left… no, 83… 82… 81…
His life continued to drain uncontrollably.
Losing half a heart would be fatal for an ordinary person, but for a supernatural being protected by life energy, it became a grievous wound that continuously drained HP.
Even so, it would still kill him in a short time.
David cast a cold gaze at the hunter's corpse—at the arm still gripping the sword.
[Detected: Heretic Arm. Initiate grafting ritual?]
Another ritual…
That meant another evil spirit. Another curse.
But he had no other choice.
The deaths of those "villagers" had nothing to do with him, and the grafting ritual didn't respond to their corpses. He couldn't absorb their life energy.
This hunter's arm, however, wasn't classified as a "monster." To absorb its life force, an additional ritual was required.
"…Debt upon debt… what difference does one more make…"
Numb, David reached out and grabbed the hunter's arm.
[Devoured Heretic Arm. Life energy cap +400.]
[Grafting ritual complete. Acquired limb: Heretic Arm]
[Heretic Arm I: Consume 100 spiritual or life energy to activate "Touch of Madness." Cooldown: 5 minutes.]
[Life Energy: 479 / 3920]
[Spiritual Energy: 0 / 100]
Life energy surged into his body, rapidly repairing his fatal injuries.
But the depletion of spiritual energy plunged him back into torment—two evil spirits gnawing at him relentlessly.
Worse still, a new presence emerged silently from the void—a shadowy figure shrouded in black mist, slowly sinking into his own shadow.
[Ritual Spirit Attached: Shadow of the Heretic]
A chill spread through David's body. He began to tremble uncontrollably.
But even that was overshadowed by the agony of hunger.
The roaring Devourer drove him forward, forcing him into the villagers' houses that had not yet been consumed by flames, searching kitchens for anything remotely edible.
He no longer had the strength to question whether the food prepared by monsters was safe to eat.
He was on the verge of madness.
"Someone… someone save me…"
He swallowed dirt-covered roots in agony, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
After a long while, the terrifying hunger finally subsided. Collapsing on the ground, David once again dragged himself back from the brink of collapse.
But how many more times could he endure?
He crawled to a water vat and stared blankly at his reflection.
A pale face. A sharp nose. Faint brows. Thin lips. Wide, hollow eyes.
This… was David Frank's face.
Though he still had black hair and dark eyes, he felt no familiarity with it at all.
Suddenly, the reflection twisted into a strange smile and spoke in a chilling voice:
"I can help you…"
David closed his eyes.
He knew—that was the new spirit clinging to him. The Shadow of the Heretic.
When he opened them again, the reflection had returned to its cold, exhausted expression.
"You can't help me… only I can help myself."
Suppressing the chaos in his mind, David stood up, stepped out of the house, picked up the hunter's silver sword and gun from the burning street, and headed north.
He had remembered everything—and realized just how foolish his mistake had been.
This plain was not within the borders of the Goliath Empire.
It lay beyond the frontier—the so-called "Dark Lands" spoken of by border nobles.
The north was where the human empire lay.
He had been running in the wrong direction.
He should have moved away from that massive "moon"… should have returned to his father's viscount territory, seeking a way to ease the curses upon him.
This world contained hunters—supernaturals who wielded mysterious powers.
There had to be a way to rid himself of those evil spirits.
The first thing he thought of was the church—the very institution that the noble boy had once despised.
Perhaps gods truly existed there.
Otherwise, why would his arm be called the "Hand of a God's Corpse"?
Would a god help him?
He didn't know.
But it was worth trying.
More importantly, his father's territory held vast resources at his disposal.
If he wanted to survive in this strange and terrifying world… he had to grow stronger.
David walked through the night and, by dawn, finally returned to the mountain pass leading back into the empire.
As expected, the viscount had already cleaned up everything in the valley—the tent, the corpses, all gone.
And just as expected, he ran straight into the man himself—
Viscount Hein Frank, leading a massive knightly force, preparing to cross the pass in search of his son.
Mounted atop a tall warhorse, the border viscount looked imposing and dignified—a man who had long earned the respect of his soldiers.
Yet when Hein Frank saw the ragged figure of David Frank standing in the valley…
There was no joy of reunion in his eyes.
David saw only three parts disappointment, three parts irritation—
And the rest… cold indifference.