The air pulsed once with unnatural energy, the sound of a heartbeat booming through the chamber.
Cain braced himself.
The spirit's eyes glowed. The mist thickened. The temperature dropped.
And then…
"Whew!" the spirit let out with a dramatic exhale. "Glad that's over. Thought you might bleed out on me before sealing the deal. Close one, huh?"
Cain blinked, confused
The sudden shift was jarring.
Cain blinked again, trying to process the complete change in tone. The spirit that had just moments ago radiated ancient power and menace now hovered in the air with a boyish grin and a casual shrug, as if they'd just finished a card game instead of forging a blood-bound pact.
"What... happened to your voice?" Cain asked, his own still hoarse.
"Oh, that?" the spirit said with a wave of his hand. "I was just putting on a little show. Gotta make the deal feel important. Gravitas. Drama. Really sells the moment. You know how it is."
Cain stared, jaw slightly slack.
The spirit spun slowly in midair, arms folded behind his head, legs crossed like he was lounging in a hammock only he could see. The ominous mist that had once wrapped him like a cloak now swirled lazily around his form, more like stage smoke than anything threatening.
Cain blinked again, trying to focus. His back was flat against the stone, breath shallow and ragged. His legs still hung in the water, heavy and numb, completely unresponsive. His fingers pressed weakly against the wound in his gut, but the blood was still coming, slow and steady.
"I'm still bleeding," he muttered, voice barely more than a breath.
"Yeah, I noticed," the spirit said, floating casually a few feet above him. He was reclining midair again, hands behind his head like he was lying in a hammock. "You've got kind of a... dying-warrior aesthetic going on. Not gonna lie, it's working for you. But let's fix that before it becomes permanent."
He dropped down beside Cain, kneeling beside him like they were just relaxing at a bonfire. The mist drifted lazily from his fingers, curling in the air with that same lazy, fluid motion as before.
"This might sting a little," he said lightly. "Or a lot. Definitely somewhere between stinging and screaming."
Cain clenched his jaw but didn't have the strength to move.
The mist sank toward his stomach. As soon as it touched the wound, the pain flared white-hot. His body arched involuntarily. A strangled noise escaped his throat as the cold burrowed deep, coiling around the torn muscle and exposed nerves.
The spirit whistled low. "Yeah, that one's nasty. Whoever did this really wanted you dead! They twisted the blade and everything. Oof. Been many years since I have seen this much bleeding
The spirit continued, his tone light despite the sight in front of him. "I mean, you're basically leaking like a wineskin at a sword convention."
Cain didn't respond. His breath came in short, ragged bursts. His vision blurred again, and for a moment, he was sure he was going to pass out. Only the cold kept him tethered to the pain, and the pain kept him conscious.
"Almost done," the spirit murmured, the mist curling tighter, slower now, as if it was knitting something unseen. "You're lucky I like you. Most people would be a stain on the floor by now."
Cain managed a weak glare.
The spirit noticed and grinned. "Alright, fine, I also need you. But it's a lot more fun to pretend I'm helping out of the goodness of my translucent heart."
The pressure in Cain's gut began to ease. The fiery pain dulled to a throb, then settled into something bearable. His breathing slowed. The mist retreated, leaving behind skin that was raw but sealed, red and tight like new scar tissue. The warmth of his blood stopped soaking into the stone beneath him.
He exhaled slowly, barely aware he had been holding his breath.
The spirit plopped back down cross-legged beside him, mist coiling around his form in lazy loops. "There we go. No more bleeding. Still broken, still exhausted, but hey, you're not dying anymore. Progress."
Cain didn't speak. He just lay there, one hand still resting near the wound, the other clenched loosely around the necklace that had fallen with him. The metal felt warm in his palm, pulsing faintly with that same strange energy.
"Don't try to sit up yet," the spirit added. "Your legs are... let's say, taking a nap. Don't panic. It'll pass. Probably."
Cain opened his eyes slowly. "What happens now?"
The spirit rolled back onto his elbows, casting a quick glance over Cain like a tailor inspecting a ripped coat.
"What happens now?" he repeated, grinning. "Now we get to the fun part."
Cain stared up at him, expression flat.
The spirit pointed a finger in the air like he was delivering a grand pronouncement. "We train. I unlock your full potential. You stop almost dying every time someone swings something sharp your way. That's the plan."
Cain didn't respond right away. His body still felt like it had been dropped off a cliff. Which, to be fair, it had.
"You're going to train me," he said slowly.
"Obviously." The spirit floated lazily in a circle above him, mist trailing behind him like a streamer. "I can't exactly avenge anyone if my partner bleeds out after one stab wound. You've got fight in you, I'll give you that. But raw rage only gets you so far. We need refinement. Control. Some style, maybe. At least learn how not to trip over your own legs when they start working again."
Cain grimaced and looked away.
The spirit drifted back down and hovered just above the stone beside him. "So. Let's start with the basics. What's your skill?"
Cain was silent for a long moment.
Then, almost reluctantly, he muttered, "Consume."
The air seemed to still.
The spirit blinked. Slowly. His grin faded, but not in the way Cain expected. It didn't vanish with amusement or mockery. It dropped like a mask falling away, replaced by something strange. Something focused.
"Say that again."
Cain narrowed his eyes. "I said it's Consume. It's garbage. It's never worked. Not once."
The spirit's gaze sharpened. He drifted closer, eyes locked onto Cain like he was trying to see through him.
"You're sure?"
Cain let out a bitter breath. "Yeah. A +10% effect on effects of Consumables. That's me..."
The spirit didn't answer right away. His smile returned, but it was different now. Not teasing. Not playful. It was knowing.
"Oh," he said quietly. "Oh, Cain. You really have no idea what you've got, do you?"
Cain's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
The spirit leaned in until their faces were only a few inches apart.
"Consume," he said, voice lower now. "That's not a garbage skill. Not even close. You didn't get a reject power. You got something dangerous. Something that shouldn't even exist in the hands of someone like you."
Cain scowled. "Someone like me?"
The spirit tilted his head, watching Cain carefully now. The humor hadn't left his face, but something sharper had settled behind his eyes.
"Tell me, Cain. Ever read about the Origin of Sin?"
Cain scoffed weakly, a sharp pain shooting through his side. "Yeah. Everyone who's touched ancient history or folklore knows about it."
The spirit smiled wider.
"Right. Then you know that so-called monster had an ability remarkably similar to yours."
Cain blinked, surprised. "That can't be. There's nothing recorded about that."
The spirit waved a hand dismissively. "Records can never be trusted. They only ever tell you what's convenient for whoever writes them. Truth gets buried under politics and fear."
He let the words hang a moment, mist curling lazily around him.
"Some say the Origin of Sin was not always a monster. Things that look like monsters don't always start that way. Sometimes, they begin very human."
Cain blinked, confusion creeping in despite the pain.
"It even had a teacher who saw that they had the Consume skill.
Cain's eyes narrowed despite the pain. "Just like mine?"
The spirit nodded. "Exactly so! Due to their teachers expert guidance and masterful experimentation, they were able to fully awaken their skill and have it take its true name..."
Cain frowned. "What name?"
The spirit's grin deepened. He leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper. "Gluttony."