The Hollowkin felt as though he was rising from the dead once more.
He stretched lazily, his body still heavy with sleep.
Then his hand brushed against the stump.
He froze.
Something was different.
He wasn't sure at first, but it felt… longer.
Focusing all his attention on the missing limb, he watched closely—and his suspicion was confirmed. Little by little, thin lines of fabric began to form, weaving themselves together where nothing had been before. Threads crocheted into existence, painfully slow, meticulous in their work.
It would take time.
But his arm was growing back.
Relief washed over him. His battle prowess would not be permanently diminished.
Only then did he notice something else.
Floating before him was a light-green screen, its notifications proudly displayed.
[You have acquired the skill ]: [SLASH OF THE ASSASSIN ]— Rank: [BASIC ]
[You have leveled up and acquired 1 GENE POINT / GP ]
Reading the first notification, realization dawned on him. He had grown far too proficient at severing heads cleanly. At the time, he hadn't thought much of it—but repetition had carved that instinct into a skill.
[SLASH OF THE ASSASSIN ]
Obtainable through repeated fatal strikes aimed at the head of other creatures.
Condition: The killing blow must be successfully delivered.
[Effect ]: +10% damage, speed and accuracy when targeting the head.
He quietly wondered if it could be improved further—if additional effects might manifest as the skill evolved.
The second notification was just as important.
He knew the value of a Gene Point.
A rare warmth stirred inside him—happiness. With time for his arm to regenerate, a new skill, and a Gene Point to spend, purging the colony no longer felt impossible.
For the first time since entering the nest, he saw hope.
He opened the avatar window again.
The three-dimensional image of himself appeared before him.
This time, he didn't toy with it. He simply watched.
The memory surfaced unbidden—his arm being torn away, the almost paralyzing pain flooding his senses once more. His jaw tightened.
That couldn't happen again.
His defense was weak.
His body—made of little more than fabric—offered little protection against the dagger-like mandibles of the ants.
With a silent command, he willed the Gene Point into his defense.
The point dissolved instantly, absorbed into his form.
Every fiber of his body shifted, making way for a new structure——more elastic, tougher, subtly shinier than before. The transformation rippled through him, thread by thread.
When it was finished, he examined his avatar once more.
The black, dirty hue he once possessed had faded. In its place remained a darker grey—cleaner, denser, faintly touched with silver when the light caught it just right.
Beside the avatar, a new interface appeared, accompanied by the familiar whirling structure
[Body Modifications ]:
[ Growth ]
[ Crude Spider Silk Reinforcement ]
Simple illustrations appeared beneath the text—one showing a doll-like figure increasing in size, the other a strand of pale, silvery spider silk.
Crude.
But effective.
He willed it to dissapear. He clenched its left fist. He felt stronger. He felt he had more chances against them. A small grin plastered on his face but was soon interrupte by the next notification:
[Time Limit ]: 20 hours
The remaining time made him uneasy but he couldn t rush in now. He had to wait for his arm to grow back.
And this is exactly what he did. Hours were passing by and the stump was getting longer and longer until he could clench his right fist again
He wasn t happy though.
With 10 hours remaining a lot of pressure was put on him. Images of the timer going off and him passing away went through his mind.
He steeled himself and went after the colony for the last time. This time he had to kill them—it was a must.
Passing through the water curtain he didn t look at the scene anymore and went straight towards the place where the ants where. Taking some turns and walking some distance he arrived there. He looked right and left and saw the battle hardened group going towards a room. It was some distance between them but after a few minutes he finally reached them.
Face to face was that group with the same ugly green creature he saw some time ago.
"Another of its kind?" he wondered.
Green skin, yellow teeth and slit pupils. Same as before but what was different now was what it was holding in its hand. He looked at it s own right hand and didn t look even one bit to what he was holding now.
The creature held a long stick having at the end a sharp object.
It seemed it was better to keep the enemy at a distance as the ants tried to close the distance on him but where pushed away by his swings. It was safer to use this kind of weapon.
Admiration started to well up inside of him and new insight. Once more he was thankful to the green creatures for the insight. However it wasn t the time to admire but for action.
Now it was the best time to attack the ants when they would have their attention directed towards this guy.
As he closed in, something unsettled him.
This was the same hardened group—or at least, it should have been.
Some of the ants still bore the scars he remembered: cracked mandibles, stiffened legs, wounds that hadn't fully closed. But others moved with the same formation, the same aggression, despite lacking any signs of past battle. Their bodies were fresher. Cleaner.
He frowned.
They hadn't recovered.
They'd been replaced.
He didn t have time to think about it now.
He broke into a run and leapt forward, gripping his blade as it descended toward the nearest head—preparing to reap some heap.