Episode 4: The Hunger of the Abyss

The heavy thud of Arkan’s boots echoed through the silent Sub-Level 4. Fifty pairs of eyes from the Raid Department students stared at his back with a mix of awe and horror.

The closer he got to the metal crate, the thicker the air felt. The black mist wafting from the Troll Heart wasn't just toxic gas; it was the manifestation of the Abyss aura. It felt like thousands of invisible needles trying to pierce his pores, whispering despair directly into his eardrums.

Vance stood beside the crate, arms crossed, watching Arkan with narrowed eyes. The scarred man was evaluating him. Not evaluating physical strength, but the limits of Arkan’s sanity.

Arkan stopped right in front of the crate. The stench of rotting meat and burnt ozone stung his nose. Without hesitation, he reached out his left hand—the same hand he had used to crush the Hobgoblin core in the Dead Zone this morning.

Tap.

Arkan's palm pressed against the wet, pulsing surface of the Troll Heart.

"One," Vance began to count in his raspy voice.

Instantly, Arkan's vision went dark. The bunker room vanished. He felt as if he had been thrown into the bottom of an endless black ocean. All around him, giant shadow tentacles writhed, and an insane whisper echoed in his head, trying to tear his sanity to shreds.

This was an Abyssal hallucination. Pure corruption that would normally shatter a normal human mind in a matter of seconds.

However, before fear could grip Arkan's mind, something inside him reacted.

The veins in his left hand, hidden beneath his tactical glove, suddenly throbbed violently, radiating a pitch-black hue darker than night. The whisper from the bottom of the ocean in his head suddenly drowned out, replaced by a single, highly primitive instinctual urge from within his own body.

Hunger.

Eat.

The piercing cold sensation from the Troll Heart instantly changed. The corruption that was supposed to destroy Arkan's mind was suddenly sucked forcefully into his palm. The Troll Heart shuddered violently beneath his touch, as if thrashing in terror.

Arkan's eyes widened mentally. His hand was... eating the corruption?

"Three," Vance's voice echoed, pulling Arkan's consciousness back to the reality of the bunker.

Arkan immediately realized the danger. If he kept absorbing this energy, this Troll Heart would dry up and crumble into dust. If a new student without an elite background could suddenly neutralize Abyssal corruption, he wouldn't go to class; he would be dragged to a secret government lab to be dissected.

Arkan gritted his teeth, forcing the muscles in his arm to fight the ravenous instinct of his left hand. He mustered every ounce of his remaining willpower to dam the flow of absorption.

"Four... Five."

Arkan immediately pulled his hand back, taking a step away, and regulated his breathing to appear slightly winded. He faked a tense expression, pretending he had just endured excruciating pain.

But Vance wasn't a fool. The man's sharp eyes darted between Arkan's face and the Troll Heart in the crate. The black mist wafting from the monster flesh now looked... thinner. The heart that was previously pulsing strongly now beat weaker, as if its energy had just been squeezed out.

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds.

"What's your name, kid?" Vance asked. His tone was no longer dismissive, but filled with a dangerous curiosity.

"Arkan," he replied curtly, hiding his left hand, which now felt warm and brimming with excess energy, into his pocket.

Vance smiled faintly. A smile that made the hairs on the back of one's neck stand up. "Return to your seat, Arkan. You pass."

Arkan turned around without another word. As he walked back, the other Raid students stared at him as if he were a monster.

Vance turned back to face the crowd. "Well, you've seen an example. This street rat just proved that it can be done. Now, who's next? Or do you want to go home and cry in your mothers' arms?"

The test continued. The results were a disaster.

The second student who tried, a heavily built teenager, only lasted two seconds before falling to his knees, screaming hysterically while clawing at his own face due to the hallucinations. Vance had to kick him unconscious to stop the screaming, then ordered the medical staff to haul him away.

Out of fifty students, only twelve managed to endure the touch for a full five seconds. The remaining thirty-eight failed, vomited, or passed out, and were immediately crossed off the academy roster right then and there.

Arkan sat in his chair, watching the mental slaughter in silence. Inside his pocket, his left hand still throbbed softly. The fatigue and aching in his shoulders from the Dead Zone this morning slowly faded, replaced by a strange vitality.

Magic in this world was believed to come from the stars. Heroes summoned light, elements, and holy swords. But what Arkan had just absorbed wasn't a miracle. It was pure madness from another dimension. And his body... somehow, his body responded to it as nourishment.

What actually happened to me while I was in that Dead Zone? Arkan thought to himself.

"Alright, those of you still conscious, listen closely," Vance's voice echoed again, staring at the twelve remaining students—including Arkan. The faces of the students who passed were deathly pale and covered in cold sweat.

"Starting tomorrow, forget all your sweet dreams about slaying dragons or rescuing princesses. Your first lesson tomorrow morning is Monster Anatomy Theory. I want you in class at exactly six o'clock. Be one minute late, and I'll use you as Hellhound bait."

Vance lit his second cigarette, glaring sharply at the remaining line of students.

"Welcome to the real hell, kids."

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Author's Note:

Arkan's mysterious power is starting to show its true form! Instead of being destroyed by the Abyssal corruption, Arkan can actually eat it. However, having this kind of power in an academy filled with strong people and Guild spies could be incredibly dangerous. Will Arkan be able to hide his true identity? Don't forget to leave your comments and add this to your library!

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