CHAPTER 10
POV: Pluie
It had been two hours since David left to fight the dragon. I had tried to stay calm, but the longer he was gone, the harder that became.
Then, just a few minutes ago, the storm rolled in. Not a normal storm—something unnatural. The sky darkened in an instant, the air crackled with energy, and lightning rained down in the direction David had disappeared.
I gripped my sleeves tightly, my heart pounding.
Something big was happening.
The rain poured heavily, drenching the ground, and I found myself pacing in the small cabin we had been staying in. Every instinct told me to run after him, but I knew I'd only be in the way. David was strong, but even he wasn't invincible.
Another bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the trees. I clenched my teeth.
"Please come back," I whispered.
A loud crash came from outside. My breath caught.
I ran to the door and flung it open, my eyes scanning the storm-drenched landscape.
And then—I saw him.
David was staggering toward the cabin, his body covered in wounds, his clothes torn, and—my breath hitched—his arm was missing. Blood dripped from him in a steady trail, mixing with the rain.
"David!" I screamed, running toward him.
He barely had the strength to stay on his feet. As I reached him, his legs gave out, and I barely managed to catch him before he collapsed completely.
His skin was cold, his breathing ragged. He was alive, but barely.
I pulled him closer, my hands shaking. "Stay with me," I begged. "You idiot, why did you push yourself this far?!"
He let out a weak chuckle, his eyes half-lidded. "Killed it… But now I have to find the real one…"
"What?" I blinked, but before I could ask anything else, his body went completely limp in my arms.
Panic surged through me. I had to stop the bleeding. I had to do something.
Tears mixed with the rain as I dragged him inside.
I wasn't going to lose him. Not like this.
End pov
David POV
I woke up in my bed, covered in wounds. My body felt heavy, my muscles aching like I had been crushed under a mountain. My eyes drifted around the room, scanning my surroundings. I was alone.
The faint glow of morning sunlight filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the walls. It was quiet. Too quiet.
I tried to sit up—bad idea.
Pain exploded through my body, a deep, burning ache that spread from every inch of me. It wasn't just my missing arm. It was everything. My ribs screamed, my legs felt like lead, and my head throbbed with every movement.
I let out a slow breath, trying to push through it. How long have I been out?
The last thing I remembered was… Pluie. Her voice, her warmth as she held me. I must have blacked out after that.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to move. My body protested, but I managed to shift enough to get my feet onto the wooden floor. The cold sent a sharp jolt through me, but at least I was awake now.
I needed answers.
I needed to know what happened after I collapsed.
Opening the door, I slowly made my way to the kitchen. The scent of something warm lingered in the air, but the place was silent. Then I saw her.
Pluie sat in my usual seat, staring blankly at the table. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen, and faint tear tracks ran down her cheeks. She had been crying.
"Morning," I said, my voice rough and dry.
She turned sharply, her eyes widening as if she had seen a ghost. Before I could react, she launched herself at me.
We both crashed onto the floor.
"Oww—agh, agony, everything hurts," I groaned, my body screaming in protest.
"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!" Pluie stammered, quickly pulling away.
I exhaled slowly, trying to push through the pain. At least my ribs are still in place… I think.
"It's fine," I assured her. "How long have I been out?"
She hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Five days."
I blinked, trying to process what she had just said.
I blinked, trying to process what she had just said.
"Five days? Really?"
"Yes," Pluie confirmed, her voice quiet but firm.
I tried to sit up, but pain shot through my entire body, making me groan. It wasn't just soreness—it felt like my bones were grinding against each other, my muscles screaming in protest.
Pluie's hands hovered near me, unsure whether to help or let me move at my own pace. I finally managed to prop myself up against the wall, breathing heavily.
"When I found you," she continued, "you were barely alive. You had lost so much blood... Your arm—" she hesitated, swallowing hard, "—it was gone. Completely ripped off. I tried to stop the bleeding, but nothing worked at first. Then, after a few hours, your body just… shut down. Your heartbeat slowed so much I thought you were dying, but your temperature kept rising. Way higher than it should have been. I didn't know what to do."
She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
"But then, your wounds started closing. Your body healed itself. Except for your arm. I don't know how, but… You survived."
There was a long silence.
I exhaled slowly, forcing a small, tired smile. "Guess I'm tougher than I look."
Pluie let out a shaky laugh, wiping her eyes. "Idiot."
Then, she took a deep breath and straightened up. "Let's eat. You're going to need it."
I nodded weakly, and after a few minutes, she brought me a bowl of soup—carrot and beef, made with the same recipe I had taught her. The warm aroma filled the room, making my stomach growl despite the pain.
I picked up the spoon with my remaining hand, my movements slow and clumsy. My body ached with every motion, but I forced myself to eat. The first sip was a relief, warmth spreading through my chest. Pluie watched me carefully, ready to scold me if I stopped eating.
The meal took longer than usual, but I finished it.
"Thanks," I murmured, my voice thick with exhaustion.
Pluie only nodded, her expression softening.
As soon as the bowl was empty, my eyelids grew heavier. The pain, the exhaustion, the weight of everything that had happened—it was too much.
Without another word, I let myself sink back into the bed. Sleep claimed me instantly.
I woke up the next day, my body still aching, but something else grabbed my attention—the unbearable itching sensation on my missing arm.
Groggily, I scratched at it, my mind still foggy from sleep. The itch was relentless, deep, like something writhing beneath my skin. I kept scratching, the sensation so real that it took a few moments before my brain fully caught up.
Wait… why am I scratching a missing arm?
That thought jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open, and I slowly looked down.
My breath caught in my throat.
My arm… was back.
But it wasn't normal.
The limb looked withered, almost skeletal. The skin clung tightly to the bone, pale and dry, as if all the muscle had been stripped away. The bones themselves seemed… smaller, frailer, like they had been rebuilt from the bare minimum. My fingers twitched slightly, but they felt sluggish, weak, like I was moving a limb that wasn't fully mine.
A sick, uneasy feeling settled in my gut.
"What the hell…?" I muttered, flexing my fingers. The movement was stiff, unnatural, like I was forcing something to work when it wasn't ready.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. How did this happen? Was it the black mist from the dragon? My healing abilities? Something else entirely?
I clenched my fist, and pain flared up in my arm like fire racing through my veins.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my entire body going rigid. The itch had been replaced with something far worse—a deep, searing pain, like my nerves were being reattached one by one.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to breathe through it.
This… this isn't normal.
And the worst part?
I had no idea if this was a miracle or a curse.
But I did kill a divine beast… and it had a high regeneration ability—so this is probably one of its powers that transferred to me when I took it down.
I stared at the arm.
It looked… off.
Skinny, almost malnourished. The muscles hadn't fully developed, and the veins under the surface pulsed faintly with a dim golden glow. It didn't feel like mine—not completely—but it moved when I willed it to.
I flexed the fingers slowly, watching the joints bend stiffly, like a newborn limb learning how to exist.
"Yeah," I muttered, "definitely not normal… but better than nothing."
Still aching all over, I sat back on the bed, the weight of what just happened slowly sinking in. A divine beast's regeneration… if that's truly what I've inherited, then I need to learn how to control it—and fast.
I thought to myself, trying to piece everything together.
Then suddenly—a giant disk of light appeared above my head, humming with energy. Etched into its surface was the image of a dragon, its wings spread wide and eyes glowing like molten gold.
Before I could react, the disk shimmered and collapsed into a stream of light, flowing down into me like water.
My whole body tensed as the light sank in, and in that moment, information flooded my mind—clear, vivid, and absolute.
Details about the power I had taken from the divine beast began unraveling in my head. Its regenerative capabilities.
As the information settled into my mind, I could feel the weight of it all, each new ability shifting my understanding of the power I had just claimed. Three abilities.
Greater Regeneration: I could heal faster than a normal human. A simple injury could become a mere nuisance. This was a power that would save me in more battles than I could count.
Corrosion: The ability to corrode anything. Not just physical objects, but anything infused with magic or divine essence. This was dangerous power. I could decay even the mightiest of gods if I chose to, eroding their existence as easily as rust overtakes metal.
Connection to Kur: A connection to the underworld, specifically to the Mesopotamian realm of Kur. The dragon's connection to this underworld told me something crucial. The beast I had slain wasn't just any creature—it had ties to a divine domain. The dragon I had killed was deeply intertwined with ancient forces beyond simple life and death.
And then it hit me.
If the dragon was tied to Kur, then it was likely part of a much larger, darker picture. Kur was the realm of the dead, ruled by Ereshkigal, the goddess of death and the underworld in Mesopotamian mythology. Could it be? Was this beast somehow connected to her?
The power I had taken from it, this ability to traverse the underworld, felt like more than just an abstract force. It felt... personal. Like a message.
The dragon wasn't just a beast of power—it was a messenger, a connection to something deeper. And if it was connected to Ereshkigal, that meant I had unwittingly crossed paths with a god whose domain could have dangerous repercussions for me.
I thought to myself: This connection might be more than I bargained for. The divine being I killed wasn't just a creature; it was a key to something far darker, and I might have just opened the door.
A shiver ran down my spine. The more I thought about it, the more the weight of my actions began to sink in. Killing a divine beast might have granted me immense power, but it also made me a part of something far older and far more dangerous than I had realized.
The underworld, the realm of the dead—it wasn't just a place; it was a realm I was now tethered to. And that meant Ereshkigal herself, or at least a piece of her influence, could be drawing near.
I couldn't help but wonder: What now? What would this connection to the underworld mean for me in the long run?
I needed to figure that out. But for now, the power I had gained from the dragon, as unsettling as it was, was mine to command. And I would learn to wield it, even if it meant stepping into realms darker than I had ever imagined.
Suddenly, a door appeared in front of me. I recognized it immediately. It was the door that led to Hephaestus' forge. The reason I recognized it so easily was that it still had the "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging on it. It seemed like a week had passed since I last saw him, and now it was time for me to observe him finish whatever project he'd been working on. I'd been waiting on my bike, the one Hephaestus had promised to make, and it seemed now was the moment.
The door stood there, quietly inviting me to step through. Despite the pain from my missing arm, the strange powers I'd recently acquired, and the lingering fatigue from the dragon fight, I couldn't help but feel a pull to go inside. There were still questions lingering in my mind—about the powers I had gained and the dragon I had killed—but for now, it seemed I had to focus on the task at hand.
I walked up to the door, my footsteps heavy but determined, and knocked gently, as I always did before entering.