“You are struck by a Chaos-corrupted. Rolling for Warp shock… Talents [Unshakable Mind], [Godchosen] activate… Due to complex reasons, the Warp shock has no effect on you…”
“You inhale the plague toxins released by the Chaos-corrupted. Constitution check begins… Roll failed—you would suffer disease or mutation… But you pass the check.”
“You are struck again by the Chaos-corrupted. Your body begins to twist unnaturally…”
“You awaken your bloodline, becoming [Cainhurst Bloodkin]. Bloodborne essence transforms your flesh.”
“Talent [Godchosen] hidden effect activates—until Chaos fully overwhelms the Chaos-born part of you, its corruption cannot take hold. The blessing of the Chosen, the gaze of the Higher Being—forces beneath that tier are gravely weakened!”
The moment Maria’s nails slashed across the Chaos-corrupted’s tentacle, her system panel lit up with a flurry of notifications. She was like a scarlet rose in bloom—her fingernails igniting with the carmine gleam of blood-essence, dissolving flesh the instant they touched.
From the torn tentacle burst foul pus and sludge, fragments of unknown organs spraying outward.
But Maria, with elegant footwork, had already slipped aside, staff-sword in hand, weaving gracefully past the corrupted appendages before the filth could reach her.
Her nails, etched with patterns of roses, tapped gently against her blade. In an instant, the faint solar glow that once wrapped the weapon was drowned in crimson. The cold corrosive essence of blood replaced the purifying light, bringing a far more brutal lethality.
Shrrk!
The bloodbound Scholar moved with poise, her blade carving through the Chaos-corrupted in a concise, deadly dance. In the blink of an eye, its writhing tentacles were reduced to a dozen twitching fragments.
“RAAHHH!”
The corrosive burn of noble blood essence was agony to the Chaos-corrupted. Pastor Lynn’s twin heads roared in unison, the stench of rot carried on their scream forcing Maria to retreat several steps with a grimace.
The power of pureblood Cainhurst—tinged with the blessing of something Higher—proved devastating. Where her scarlet blade struck, wounds that once would have closed in moments instead festered, eaten away by the clinging curse of her essence.
Maria herself hadn’t expected her blood to wield such force.
In her past life, she had seen Cainhurst contract-bearers use blood essence—always auxiliary, never overwhelming. But hers, as a trueborn heir, was something else entirely.
“Prepare for repentance, fiend!”
Her control of blood was as natural as breath. Embracing her Cainhurst heritage, she drove her fist forward in a crimson blur. The blow smashed into the corrupted priest’s head, twisting it a hundred and eighty degrees with a wet crack. Her knuckles left a grotesque dent, seared with blood-essence.
Though striking her father’s intact face cut deep into her heart, the other twisted head lunged to bite her, and any hesitation was instantly killed.
Blood answers blood. The strong survive.
Whatever had happened, whatever she had done—it could all be reckoned with once this crisis ended. Chaos corruption in the Closed Beta was already disaster incarnate. If the First Flame faltered under it, the Fractured would face Chaos invasion far sooner than expected.
Crunch!
Maria snapped the creature’s leg bone with a single kick. Shielded by her [Godchosen] talent, the black-robed nun taught the Chaos-corrupted firsthand the destruction an extraordinary could unleash.
After barely ten seconds of defiling her chambers, the corrupted priest was hurled into the back courtyard like a battered sackcloth doll, its wails trailing behind.
And there Maria stood—like a bloodred rose blooming in the filth of the world, beauty sharpened with peril, elegance laced with death.
She had just given this Chaos beast a full-body “massage.”
The results were catastrophic: ruptured organs, shattered bones, concussed brains, vital points skewered by her staff-sword. Against a normal being, it was certain death. But this was no normal being. Its plague-pocked skin writhed, repairing itself with sickening speed. Without blood essence pressing the wound, its vitality surpassed even a cockroach.
“I despise wars of attrition.”
Maria’s face paled, more befitting her vampire-like heritage. Since becoming a [Bloodbound Scholar], she hadn’t replenished her reserves. Every stroke of blood essence burned her own lifeblood away.
This was dangerous.
In a contest of endurance, the monster would outlast her. Yet she gritted her teeth—she would finish it here.
Her killing intent radiated cold as she stepped forward. Without giving the beast time to think, she unleashed a storm of scarlet steel. Her crimson blade carved it apart at lightning speed, flaying rotten flesh into the air.
If not for the weakness debuff weighing her down, she might have ended it then and there.
Just as she raised her blade to sever its twin heads, the earth quaked.
A violent tremor surged from below, forcing Maria to adjust her stance. And then—something far worse than a loss of balance emerged.
From beneath, from her own cellar, it surfaced.
A blasphemous altar, rising through the soil.
Maria’s expression darkened, her grip tightening on her staff-sword, silver teeth nearly cracking from the pressure of her bite.
The altar was a mound of slick, writhing bodies, countless warped limbs clawing upward, oozing multicolored pus. The sight alone was psychic poison, triggering a fresh willpower check. But the figure lashed upon the altar struck deeper—dealt a mortal wound to Maria’s very soul.
That form was—
“Mother!”
The word slipped through clenched teeth, Maria’s beautiful features twisting with pure, searing hatred.
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