The Abyss Hunger of Power

Daeshim stood over the corpse of the massive dragon, its flesh still steaming, its aura still lingering in the air. He could feel the raw, untamed power surging through his veins, newly absorbed and still unstable.

"I need to test this power," he muttered to himself, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

He ventured deeper into the Necravore world. Twisting trees surrounded him, and the air was thick with dread. Eventually, he stumbled upon a hidden village in the heart of the jungle—dark, eerie, and inhabited by the Necravores. Silently, he crept in, masking his presence.

Soon, a large group of Necravores arrived, escorting a chain of human captives. As they passed Daeshim, he slipped into the line of prisoners, thinking, *If they're taking them to their king… I want to see him myself.*

The group arrived at a towering fortress, shadowy and ominous. As the gate creaked open, they were all thrown into a prison chamber. Screams and cries echoed through the dim space.

"Who will look after my children?!"

"What did we ever do to deserve this?!"

"For the love of God, let me go!"

Daeshim stood silently amidst the chaos, absorbing the despair around him. His eyes settled on a girl crouched like a thief in a corner. She looked shaken, but not afraid—angry.

He stared intently. *She's hiding something...* And then he saw it—a dagger glinting in her hand, partially concealed.

"She's going to try and kill someone," he whispered.

The girl met his gaze. Her face was stunning up close—soft, graceful, but intense. Her amber eyes were fierce, burning with purpose. Her black hair framed her face like a dark halo, and even in the dim light, her beauty struck him.

She quickly looked away and muttered to herself, "Focus, Elira... Focus."

*Elira,* Daeshim repeated in his mind, *beautiful name.*

Just then, several Necravores entered and dragged them all toward a grand hall. The chamber was massive, lit with a crimson glow, with a throne looming at its center. Seated upon it was a monstrous giant of a Necravore, his presence suffocating—this was not the king, but clearly a figure of power.

"Step forward, one at a time," a Necravore barked.

As prisoners stepped forward one by one, the creature on the throne whispered something into their ears. Some collapsed in fear, others froze in silence. They called him by a name in their guttural tongue: **Dra'Zhul.**

Daeshim narrowed his eyes. *So this isn't the king. Must be a commander... or worse.*

Then it was Elira's turn.

She walked forward slowly, her hand subtly reaching behind her robe—a dark, hooded **haori**, commonly worn by rogue fighters.

Just as she neared Dra'Zhul, she lunged—her dagger flashed, and with precision, she *stabbed it directly into his ear.*

A collective gasp swept the hall.

Dra'Zhul's eyes went wide. He roared in agony, pulling the dagger out as **blood streamed from his ear.**

Daeshim smirked. *Idiot… trying to kill him head-on.*

With a growl, Dra'Zhul grabbed Elira in his massive clawed hand, lifted her into the air, and touched his bleeding ear.

"You dare… hurt me?!"

He slammed her down with rage. But before she hit the floor, Daeshim flashed forward and caught her.

*I only saved her as a fellow human…* he told himself. But deep down, something else stirred. A voice within whispered.

Dra'Zhul snarled. "Who are you?!"

Daeshim looked up, eyes fierce. "I'm Daeshim. That's all you need to know. You won't live long enough to learn more."

"You think you can kill *me?*"

Instead of answering, Daeshim slammed a fist into Dra'Zhul's jaw, knocking him off his throne.

"A magician?! No Seraphin should have this kind of power!" Dra'Zhul growled, scanning him. "His speed and strength… impossible. But still beneath me."

Before Daeshim could strike again, other Necravores swarmed in—but with one burst, he decimated them all. He remembered: *They're immortal while he lives. I need to focus on him.*

Daeshim darted forward again—punch, kick, strike—each attack narrowly missed as Dra'Zhul dodged with supernatural reflexes. Then suddenly, Dra'Zhul countered and smashed Daeshim into the wall.

*CRASH!*

Dust flew. The wall cracked. But Daeshim rose.

Thanks to the dragon's power, his body had hardened. *He hit hard… but I've taken worse.*

Then it clicked—Daeshim's mind raced. *He's predicting my moves… he's thinking like us. Just like humans.*

A grin curled on Daeshim's lips. *Time to exploit that.*

He began feinting, testing attacks, drawing out Dra'Zhul's counters. Then—he saw it. *His ears… he's still bleeding there. He hasn't healed.*

Daeshim struck, this time **aiming directly for the ears.** Again. And again.

Dra'Zhul howled.

"You little—!"

Before he could retaliate, Daeshim pulled out his sword, its blade humming with absorbed dragon energy. With a roar, he leapt and slashed downward—**splitting Dra'Zhul's skull in two.**

Silence.

The hall fell still. The remaining Necravores gasped in horror and disarray.

Daeshim turned to the prisoners. Those who had earlier whispered with Dra'Zhul… many had transformed into partial Necravores. Others were dead. Their bodies were charred bones, burned from within.

With quiet fury, Daeshim led the survivors outside. Then, returning to Dra'Zhul's corpse, he muttered:

"Vel'Zar…"

He placed a hand on the body and absorbed every drop of its power. And this time, the voice inside him returned.

*"Do you see how strong you were… and how much stronger you are now? Obey me, and you will rise even higher."*

Daeshim clenched his jaw and suppressed the voice. Then he turned to the girl.

Walking beside her, he asked, "How did you know his weakness?"

Elira didn't answer. She just walked in silence.

Then she turned, eyes unreadable.

"…Are you really Daeshim?"

—End of Chapter 7—