"Let's keep going. Maybe I'm overthinking it."
As his thoughts ran wild, he kept moving forward, until he reached the other side of the cave. What he saw was...
---
When Morca reached the end of the cave, what greeted him was a gruesome, blood-soaked sight.
Scattered across the stone floor were torn remnants of Bull Horn Crocodile monsters—their thick hides shredded, massive horns cracked, and limbs severed in a way that spoke of brutal precision. The scent of blood mixed with the damp air, metallic and raw. Morca stood silently, taking it all in.
Something stirred within him... a faint pulse, a whisper of life coming from the opposite direction.
He turned slowly, sharp eyes scanning his surroundings. What had first seemed like a cavern mouth was, in fact, part of a rocky waterfall wall. Clear, glasslike water flowed gently from the stone above, cascading down into a small lake below, its surface shimmering with an unnatural stillness.
Yet, in stark contrast to the transparent stream behind him, the lake that stretched forward was dyed in a chilling crimson hue. A river of blood. It wound through the gorge like a cursed vein. The sight was eerie, ghostly... but Morca didn't flinch.
Who was Morca?
He was someone who had once bathed in the blood of the envoys from the Heavenly Titan Court. He had walked through carnage before. This scene, horrifying as it might be to others, barely stirred him. Instead, he was curious. There was life... however faint, lingering in this twisted place, and he wanted to know more.
Without hesitation, he leapt from the rocky ledge at the end of the cave. The drop was modest, but the terrain below was treacherous. He landed beside the riverbank, where the crimson water sluggishly curled around chunks of flesh and bone... more remnants of the Bull Horn Crocodiles. The soft, muddy ground threatened to swallow his boots, but he steadied himself.
He stared into the red current, searching for patterns in the chaos.
Suddenly, a gust of wind tore through the air, then two more, each from a different direction. They weren't natural. He didn't need a warning. His instincts flared.
He pivoted to the side, bent low, then twisted upward in a single, fluid motion — narrowly dodging the invisible attack that had targeted him.
But there was no time to recover.
Two claws zipped in from either side, aiming directly for his head, while a massive kick soared toward his chest. All he could think in that moment was:
"Seriously?"
He hadn't even figured out what the hell was happening, and now he was being ambushed.
But Morca wasn't here to analyze. He was here to fight.
With a sharp motion, he summoned his blade — Avoc — its familiar weight calming him as he brought it up just in time to intercept the two claws.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Metal met bone and fury. The sound echoed through the blood-soaked gorge as sparks flew. Morca's counterattacks moved faster than the eye could track. He managed to parry both claws, but the kick came half a heartbeat too fast.
Thud. Creak. Thud.
The blow landed squarely on his chest, just above his heart. He flew backward like a ragdoll and crashed into a jagged stone outcrop. Pain erupted across his ribcage. Blood welled in his throat. His vision flickered.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. His blood was pumping at a dangerous rhythm, his pulse erratic. He activated the Breathing Blood Codex, redirecting the pain and trauma inward, absorbing it into his core like a cursed elixir.
With effort, he steadied his stance and finally got a good look at his attackers.
Three of them.
The first was a Snakeman — one he knew, or at least thought he knew. But this one was different. Towering and menacing, it had vibrant red scales instead of green. Its thick, coiled tail dragged behind it, massive and muscular, and its two arms glinted with crimson energy. Most disturbing of all were its eyes... ghostly red slits that exuded a haunting aura.
This was no ordinary Snakeman. This was a 2-star Red Scale Snakeman.
The other two were humanoid, with birdlike features. Their heads were avian, beaks jagged and cruel. Green ghost-fire burned in their hollow eyes. Each had a powerful set of wings, pulsating with an ominous rhythm, and their talons gleamed with death.
2-star Razor Birdmen.
"What the hell is going on here?" Morca muttered aloud, fury rising. "How can there be three... no, four — 2-star monsters in one territory?"
He recalled the one he saw at the entrance.
This was absurd. He wasn't just some fledgling trial candidate — he was an Awakened Rank Expert. Sure, he'd killed 2-star monsters before — even a Royal — but never like this. Never ambushed by three at once. And not two Razor Birdmen working alongside a Snakeman.
It didn't make sense.
He should've run. That was the rational choice.
But he couldn't.
Something inside him, something primal and defiant, kept him rooted. His grip tightened around Avoc. The blade trembled... not from fear, but from anticipation. His battle spirit surged.
Without wasting another second, he charged. His first target... the Razor Birdmen.
But the Red Scale Snakeman slithered forward, intercepting him like it had predicted his every move. The birdmen took to the sky, flanking the serpent with eerie coordination.
It was unnatural. These species were sworn enemies. Cold-blooded serpents of the ground and air-dominating Sky Rulers never cooperated.
Yet here they were, moving in perfect sync... like a Ghost-Winged Serpent, a myth given flesh.
They clashed.
Blood sprayed. Morca was hurled through the air like a broken doll. He hit the ground hard, rolling against stone and soil, water splashes the area.
Before the haze even settled, the three monsters rushed in to finish the job.
But they found nothing.
Morca had vanished.
He had used his Blank Skill, erasing his presence, almost. This time, he couldn't fully cloak himself. Blood still seeped from his wounds, betraying faint traces of his location.
Yet it bought him a second.
That second was enough.
He appeared behind one of the Razor Birdmen, blade glowing with dark light. Oblivion Blade... his unique skill — activated. The birdman sensed him a breath too late.
Avoc sliced through the air, intent on severing space itself. But at the last moment, the birdman's wings surged forward. Feathers broke away in unison, forming a thick black shield.
The strike landed.
A flash. Then silence.
BOOM
The feathers disintegrated into fine ash. The birdman was flung across the river, vanishing from sight.
The Snakeman and the other birdman scanned the area, eyes glowing. But they couldn't sense him — not even a whisper of presence. Their attention snapped toward the fallen ally. What they saw made them freeze.
Its head was gone... reduced to a mess of sinew and pulp. Its once-proud wings were bare, plucked clean of feathers.
On the far edge of the cliff, across the flowing water, Morca emerged — his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. Blood poured from his lips.
He spat a mouthful to the ground.
"I can't suppress it anymore," he muttered, voice low. "I need to find a place… I need to enter the Unique Domain."