"That's the last one," Song muttered weakly, dismissing Fallen Glory.
He stared at the empty space where the magic sword had vanished, wondering where it had returned to, but that thought could wait. There were more pressing matters at hand.
With the forest silent and devoid of life, he seized the brief respite to rest and steady his breathing.
All the running and fighting had drained most of his energy. Facing that many enemies while still inexperienced with a sword had been a first for him.
Yet, there wasn't a single scratch on his body. Not bad at all!
Considering he had no allies, his progress as a rookie wasn't half bad. In fact, it was better than most.
Maybe it was because he was a Divine Mythic holder.
Perhaps that had something to do with it. His [Flatten] was absurdly powerful when used properly, but his lack of combat experience as an Esper held him back. With no mentor to guide him, he'd been forced to figure things out on his own.
Doing things his own way... It sounded nice in theory, but in reality, he was still just a newbie fumbling through the myriad of possibilities. So far, he wasn't particularly good at anything.
If only someone more experienced could train him. For instance, someone from a Clan or a well-established Cohort. But such people didn't offer their services for free. And even if they did, it wasn't guaranteed they'd spare him a glance. Forming a party with complete strangers wasn't an option either; no one truly knew what happened inside the Tower.
Law enforcement was useless in that regard. People could commit crimes in there and no one would ever know except the culprits themselves.
The more he thought about it, the more complicated things seemed.
No matter how he looked at it, he was better off alone.
As long as he didn't go on adventures, he could fight and win.
Fight one monster at a time.
Use the surroundings to his advantage and survive.
Emerge victorious always.
"… All right."
Gathering his thoughts, Song decided he had rested enough and began cutting open the kobolds' carcasses. The cores of Chaos Creatures were usually found where a human's heart would be, so he already had a rough idea of where to start.
Pulling a Swiss knife from his backpack, he set to work.
The blade sank into the kobold's scaly hide with a wet, tearing sound. A foul stench wafted up immediately and assaulted his face, forcing Song to cover his nose with the back of his sleeve.
"Ugh… disgusting."
He pushed through the stench, cutting with unwavering focus until a faint glimmer caught his eye. Nestled between layers of sinew and blackened tissue was a small, pulsating shard.
A Spirit Shard.
It wasn't as large as he had hoped, barely the size of a fingernail. From the looks of it, the shard doesn't seem it would be worth that much money but it was better than nothing.
"That's one..."
Letting out a breath, Song then reached for the next carcass.
The process repeated — slice, dig, extract, clean — until his hands were slick with dark blood and the ground around him littered with faintly glowing shards.
By the time he was done, there were six shards in total.
Song wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at the small pile before him, his brows knitting together. Then he muttered bitterly:
"What a pitiful amount of shards. But a guy's got to eat, I guess."
With a resigned sigh, Song sat down and began absorbing them one by one.
Cross-legged on the cold ground, he picked up a shard and crushed it in his palm. A faint glow flickered between his fingers as he focused, guiding the residual spiritual energy from the fragment into his own body. His breathing slowed and his mind slipped into quiet concentration.
Shortly after, a soft voice echoed in his head in acknowledgment:
[You have absorbed a Spirit Shard.]
Following that message, he quietly absorbed the rest.
[You have absorbed a Spirit Shard.]
[You have absorbed a Spirit Shard.]
[You have absorbed a Spirit Shard.]
[You have...]
As the last shard crumbled into dust between his fingers, a faint warmth flowed and spread through Song's chest. His Soul Slate pulsed once, responding to the influx of energy.
| Spirit Shards: [+6]
| Soul Fragments: [27/1000]
Song opened his eyes slowly, the faint light fading from his pupils.
"…Still not enough."
His frown deepened, though his words came out more as a sigh than a complaint.
Even after fighting for his life and nearly exhausting his stamina, this was all he had gained, barely a handful of fragments. At this rate, reaching the next tier was a far-fleeting dream.
He lay back against a nearby tree, feeling the cool bark press into his skin. The forest had gone quiet again, eerily so. Only the faint rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of night terrors lingered.
"I can't keep doing this forever. Killing weak monsters won't get me anywhere."
The thought made him uneasy. The next floor of the Tower would be far more dangerous. Stronger creatures, unpredictable traps and perhaps something even more ruthless than any fiend.
But giving up wasn't an option.
His gaze drifted upward, through the canopy where fragments of moonlight slipped through the leaves.
Was that even the real moon? Augmented reality or not, it didn't matter.
A strange calm settled over him.
So there's no other choice, huh? If I want to progress faster, then I would have to step up my game.
Following that line of thought, Song drew his Glock 19 from its holster and ejected the magazine, giving it a quick shake to clear out the empty shells.
He caught the faint clatter of brass hitting the ground as the last of the shells dropped free. Sliding a fresh magazine from his vest, Song checked the rounds; fifteen bullets and slapped the magazine back in place, then pulled the slide.
Click-clack! The sound echoed faintly through the empty woods.
Song holstered the Glock again and rose to his feet, brushing the dirt off his pants. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, replaced by that dull ache that came after every battle.
He glanced once more at the corpses scattered around him. The kobolds' twisted faces were frozen in expressions of terror, testament to the brutality of Fallen Glory's power.
"Guess that's my cue to leave."
With his hand resting on the holster, prepared for a quick draw, Song turned toward the narrow trail that cut deeper into the forest.
The wind shifted and leaves rustled, accompanied by the sound of an echoing howl.
Under normal circumstances, anyone would have turned the other way but Song had other plans.
Without another word, he started walking.