The battle raged on, neither combatant altering their lethal rhythm. It was as if both men had staked their entire existences on a singular gamble, anchored by the cold conviction that their tactical assessments were flawless. Each was now playing a desperate game of attrition, striving to deplete the other's Life Energy to the point of collapse.
Just ten seconds prior, they had both reached their absolute physical limits. Kalgon was trapped in a bottleneck; he required six more seconds of recovery before he could trigger his Substitution Skill to vanish back into the safety of the earth. Edard, on the other hand, was mere heartbeats away from a crisis: in exactly three seconds, the clone he had merged with—the source of his heightened combat prowess—would expire. Once it vanished, his strength would plummet.
Edard's remaining reserves were precariously thin. He had just enough Life Energy for one final Dragon Essence blade and a single activation of Violet Crush.
Kalgon, meanwhile, was reeling from internal disbelief. He watched Edard's energy levels with a mix of awe and denial. He refused to believe that the high-tier Gravity skill Edard was using—Violet Crush—consumed so little energy. To his mind, gravity manipulation was a legendary art that should drain a man dry in seconds. He assumed Edard simply possessed a freakishly vast reservoir of Life Energy.
If Kalgon had known that Violet Crush only cost a measly 20 Life Energy per strike, his heart might have stopped right then and there from sheer frustration. How could such a majestic, devastating force of nature be so "cheap" to manifest? In a world where power usually demanded an equal sacrifice, it felt like a cosmic injustice.
Edard's eyes flared with a sharp, violet light. The gravitational field slammed into the Captain once more, pinning him down. Kalgon's weight multiplied instantly, his movements turning sluggish and heavy. Because of the constant pressure of Violet Crush, he was barred from his subterranean escape.
Edard flickered out of sight and reappeared directly in front of his foe. Sensing his own time was running out, he cast aside all hesitation. He manifested a jagged dagger of Dragon Essence and, with cold-blooded precision, drove it deep into Kalgon's right shoulder.
The effect was horrific. The flesh, nerves, and bone of Kalgon's entire arm and shoulder withered instantly, sucked into the ravenous void of the Dragon Dimension. Where a limb had been, there was now only a cavernous, jagged hole—a wound so unnatural it didn't even look human. Blood geysered from the site, spraying across Edard's face, stinging his eyes and painting his lips crimson.
As the first notification faded, another surged to the foreground:
To Edard's surprise, the man calling himself Kalgon remained standing.
He endured the agonizing soul-drain of the curse. Unlike that Kalhari, whose body had withered and turned to dust almost instantly under the same spell, Kalgon was holding on. Edard wondered: was this a difference in their racial durability, or was Kalgon simply made of sterner stuff?
Edard paused, the thrill of victory still humming in his veins. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate to finish a fallen foe, but a pragmatic thought stayed his hand. If he killed Kalgon now, the curse would break. The siphon would stop. To a man who had spent the last few hours surviving second-by-second, the prospect of losing those precious minutes of life was unthinkable.
With a grunt of effort, he hauled the mangled Captain behind a rocky ridge and concealed him within a shallow cave. If this man survived the next hour, he would grant Edard an additional 42 minutes of life—a treasure he could not afford to waste.
Edard waited. Eventually, Kalgon's eyes fluttered open. Edard had questions—burning questions about the corpse and this bizarre world. He attempted to read the Captain's stamina, but a new screen blocked his vision:
Edard didn't need the reminder. He knew he was down to his final slot. If he took this, any future legendary skills would be out of reach unless he found a way to expand his capacity. For now, he needed to know if Kalgon was truly awake or merely faking. He also agonized over the girl's body. While she was the "anchor" that had stopped his death-clock in the sanctuary, she was also a walking death sentence. Even if Kalgon hadn't appeared, it was clear that carrying her drew trouble like a beacon.
Kalgon finally spoke, his voice a ragged whisper. "You... you are from the House of D! You belong to that cursed lineage. How? Why? How did you obtain our contract of the earth?"
Edard was taken aback. He suspected this might be another trick, like the White Sand ruse from earlier. To be safe, he triggered Intimidation.
Kalgon's body locked up for two seconds. When he came to, his face was pale, his skin glistening with cold sweat. Beyond the initial paralysis, the Intimidation skill left a lingering "fear residue"—a psychological shadow that kept the victim subdued and compliant for up to ten minutes after the initial strike.
"Speak. Explain everything," Edard commanded, pressing the Dragon Essence blade against the Captain's throat.
"Only... only they can do it," Kalgon stammered, his voice trembling with the residual terror. "Only the House of D uses the 'Life-Eating' curse... the same foul art you just used on me."
Despite the man's fearful mumbling, Edard began to piece the puzzle together. In this world, magic was strictly divided among Great Houses, Sects, and Tribes. Just as the Bayir controlled the earth, this House of D was infamous for the life-draining arts. By using his skills, Edard was effectively wearing a uniform he didn't recognize.
But this raised a troubling question: Did Kalhari belong to the House of D as well, since he used similar arts? If so, why was Kalhari so easily affected by Edard's curse? Shouldn't a member of the same house have some resistance to their own magic? Why did Kalhari wither away so helplessly, despite being far more powerful than Edard at the time?
"Tell me everything you know about the House of D. Don't leave out a single detail," Edard demanded. Since the first person he met in this world tried to kill him with these very arts, finding his "kin"—or his most dangerous enemies—was now his top priority.
"No one... no one knows much," Kalgon whimpered. "They are shadows. They are hidden even in the inner continent. I am just a soldier of the old continent; I know nothing of the high politics of the world's core. If you want to kill me, kill me, but I truly know nothing of their secrets."
Kalgon went silent, staring at the glowing, searing heat of the Dragon Essence blade hovering near his jugular. His brain worked with the frantic speed of a man who knew he was an inch from the grave.
"Wait... I heard... I heard a rumor," Kalgon whispered. "They are hunting the Outsiders."
Edard's heart skipped a beat. "Outsiders? What does that mean?"
Kalgon paused, then met Edard's gaze. "People who do not belong here. According to them, some people can traverse realms and come to our world to cause chaos."
A heavy weight settled in Edard's chest. If there was a Great House dedicated to hunting people from other worlds, it meant he wasn't alone. There were others like him—transmigrants—and they were being hunted.
I'm not the only one, he realized. And that's why Kalhari tried to kill me the moment I appeared. They have scouts everywhere, waiting for the 'scent' of a world-breach.
Edard thought back to his arrival. Even back in Kano, he knew that powerful magic left a "residue" that lingered long after the spell was cast. The ritual that dragged him from Earth must have left a massive magical footprint. The House of D must have sensors or methods to detect these ripples in reality and dispatch assassins immediately.
He kept his blade pressed against the vein in Kalgon's neck, his mind whirling. He needed to understand the geography of this nightmare. "Explain the world to me. You mentioned the inner continent and the old continent. I want a detailed breakdown of everything."
Edard had no intention of letting Kalgon live once he had the information. The Captain was a liability. If he let him go, the word would spread that a House of D practitioner was wandering the continent. But as long as Kalgon believed there was a chance at life, he would talk.
Kalgon's eyes searched Edard's face. He bit his lip, his voice desperate. "I will tell you everything. But you must promise... you must swear you will let me walk away. I can be your eyes, your spy. I can give you more than just words—but only if you promise I'll live."
Edard just looked at him sideways, as if he were staring at a madman.