"Aspect…," Ren murmured, unconsciously staring into the darkness. Lines of Ruin text began to appear…
Name: Ren.
True Name: ——
Rank: Dreamer.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Soul Fragments: [3/1000].
Memories: [Oasis Vein].
Echoes: ——
Attributes: [Crimson Rot], [Scarborne], [Dreamtaint].
Aspect: [Blood Sovereign].
Aspect Description: [Blood is both a chain and a key. It binds life, but also unlocks the door to death.].
Aspect Rank: Awakened Aspect Abilities: [Throne Within].
Aspect Ability Description: [Some learn to draw blood out of enemies. Others learn to keep it flowing inside themselves. But the one who truly rules it… does neither.].
Flaw: [Splintered Core].
Pausing for a moment, Ren quietly turned his gaze toward Stephen and Stephen's bizarre flower‑spider.
"I have the ability…"
"…to control blood," Ren said softly, as if the very words carried a cold, metallic tang and unwashed pain.
Stephen froze, a flash of caution in his eyes. He stared at Ren, trying to determine whether this was a threat.
Ren didn't continue immediately. Slowly, he raised his hand to reveal an old wound on his upper arm, a cut long since healed.
Then, in the dim light, thin strands of blood, like threads, began to move and tremble, as though obeying his will.
"But it's only my blood," he continued, his voice steady like a verdict. "I can hold it when needed… prevent bleeding, accelerate circulation to heal faster… or burn it to gain strength."
A brief silence.
"Using it too much will make me hungry. And exhausted… and it demands intense focus… I still can't fully control it yet." Ren's words were plain, unembellished, not boastful, just factual...a part of him and a burden he carried.
Stephen nodded, this time genuinely. No doubt. No pity. Just acknowledgment… and perhaps a trace of empathy.
Stephen frowned, but remained silent, staring at Ren as if scrutinizing every word, every breath, every twitch.
Ren exhaled, his eyes glinting with cold resolve.
"I can't control blood once it's outside my body," he said, voice low. "So don't expect me to turn it into blades or chains like in stories or novels."
Stephen shifted slightly, as though wanting to ask a question, but Ren had already continued:
"It's just liquid… my own. Inside me. That's all."
A silence heavy as lead followed.
Then Ren tilted his head and offered a dry, bitter smile.
"Or would you like me to reveal my Flaw?" His tone was quiet, not angry. But in its delivery, it drew a sharp line between warning and sarcasm.
Stephen finally turned away, his shoulders tensing slightly.
"No," he muttered. "I haven't shared my Flaw either."
Ren said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on the darkness where the spiders' footsteps had stilled.
But inside, every vein in his body pulsed gently, like a red river waiting to burst. Blood… it could be a chain, or a key, but only if held tight.
"Blood and flowers," Stephen breathed, glancing at the parasitized spider. "Sounds poetic… for a terrible death."
In the damp, oppressive darkness scented with decay, he spoke again to break the silence tightening around them.
"I also have two Memories," he said, touching the armor clinging to his body. "A rank‑Awakened leather armor, passed down from my clan. And a dagger… enchanted, also from them." His voice was steady, but tinted with pride and regret.
Then Stephen glanced at Ren. Waited. Judged.
Ren simply shrugged, almost dismissively.
"All I have is that flask from earlier. Converts any liquid… into clean water."
Nothing more. No boasting. No explanations.
Stephen frowned, still uncertain, until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and noticed the rough chitin armor clinging to Ren, it didn't fit well, was cracked in places, stained with dried blood and slime.
A suit patched together from some creature's remains.
Stephen fell silent. Because now, no words could deny the truth: Ren was surviving… with virtually no real gear.
Stephen leaned back against the hollow exoskeleton of the mother‑spider, pursed his lips before speaking in a low but less tense tone.
"We need to plan our escape… before the spiders realize this place is no longer off‑limits."
"Or we'll starve here…"
Ren didn't reply, only glanced toward Stephen, waiting.
"There is a way out," Stephen continued, voice dropping as though frightened the darkness might hear. "I saw it once after the spider blocked my path, about three cycles ago, if time even exists here."
He leaned forward and traced a line on a web‑wall with his finger, as though recreating it.
"The nest is built on a cliff. A coral‑red labyrinth spreads below, but deeper… is a crevice I call The Throat. A place so deep, so dark and cold, even Iron Spiders avoid it."
Ren frowned. "Sounds like hell."
"Not wrong," Stephen nodded. "But it's also our only path."
He pointed toward the nest's edge, a path winding around the upper tier.
"As I said: every cycle, a horde of Flesh Reavers emerges, they're locust‑like, but human‑sized, smelling of raw meat."
"They storm the nest, slaughter spiders for eggs… then vanish."
Ren narrowed his eyes. "We'll use that chaos…"
"Exactly."
"And last time you failed?"
Stephen didn't respond immediately. After a long moment he answered: "I almost got out… But I think… something lives in The Throat. Something both Flesh Reavers and Iron Spiders avoid."
"And you still want to go in?"
"Do we have another choice?" Stephen looked at Ren. No challenge, no plea, just a very real question.
Ren was silent. Fingers tightened around the algae pouch strap. The smell of decay, dried blood, and spiders' scuttling lingered somewhere ahead.
"How long until they come?"
Stephen closed his eyes briefly, then said, "If the cycle is true… less than half a day."
Ren nodded slowly.
"We have half a day… to prepare a hell‑run."
Everything fell quiet again. Ren thought of many things, his face reflecting complex thoughts.
Then he turned back to his Ruin text to pass the time.
He looked at the Attributes: [Crimson Rot], [Scarborne], [Dreamtaint].
[Crimson Rot] needs no further explanation…
Attribute: [Scarborne]
Attribute Description: [If a wound doesn't kill you… it becomes a part of you.]
[You don't heal faster. You don't grow stronger.]
[You just… adapt to pain. Each surviving injury grants your body resistance, whether from blade, poison, fire, cold, or anything that nearly killed you. The more times you skirt death, the harder you are to kill.]
[Some resistances may become permanent… though at the cost of everything you lost to survive.]
Ren can receive temporary resistance after taking a damaging blow. The duration depends on the attack's magnitude and how long ago it happened.
Attribute: [Dreamtaint]
Attribute Description: [Part of your soul still wanders in the dream… never fully returned.
To some creatures, you appear as a blur within a trance. Some may become disoriented. Some… may ignore you.]