Chapter 15: 15. Sacrifice
Murphy woke with a jolt — his chest rising too fast, breath catching in his throat like he'd surfaced from drowning.
His heart raced, a chaotic rhythm pounding behind his ribs. His hands trembled as he sat up, soaked in sweat that clung to him like something alive.
His mind reeled.
Not just from the dream — but from what it meant.
After seeing that dream and realizing he was nothing but a pawn—his strings cruelly jerked by some higher force—he felt the cold weight of despair settle in his chest.
"I don't like this feeling," he whispered, though the words felt hollow, as if spoken by someone else.
The cold terror coiled tighter around his heart, but he forced himself to look around. The grove was unchanged—eerily silent, unnaturally still.
He was still there.
Still seated in the gnarled earth, in a puddle not of rainwater, but of his own blood—dark, thick, and soaking into the roots like an offering.
The wind didn't blow. The birds didn't sing.
Only his ragged breath disturbed the silence... and even that felt like a trespass.
But something felt off. The blood—there was just too much of it to have come from the wounds on his stomach alone.
'This... this is enough blood to rinse someone out several times over.'
Now that he really looked at himself, wasn't his skin a little too flawless? Too perfect, too clear—like an elixir for sore eyes.
'If I walked shirtless in public, I swear most women—and probably a few men—would collapse from nosebleeds.'
Trying to shake off the creeping dread and the bizarre nature of his condition, he summoned his runes, hoping to discover what boons he had received.
Name: Murphy
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant
Soul Core: Dormant
Memories: —
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Perfect Sorcerer], [Flame of Divinity], [Terror], [Soul Beast], [???]
Aspect: [Spectator]
Aspect Description: Whether it is at an extravagant banquet or a lively street, a Spectator is always just a spectator—they can never take the stage themselves.
Aspect Ability: Body Language Analysis
Ability Description: You are able to read the superficial thoughts of others and simulate the trajectory of those thoughts and emotions to a certain degree. You also possess keen powers of observation when analysing individuals—either one-on-one or in groups. You can also see and influence others desire.
Attributes:
[Perfect Sorcerer]
Description: You possess unparalleled talent for all kinds of sorcery.
[Flame of Divinity]
Description: Your soul is aflame with the light of divinity.
[Terror]
Description: The more someone fears you, the less powerful their attack becomes against you.
[Soul Beast]
Description: You are in possession of a miraculous being who walks the path from the Profane to the Divine. You can use some of its abilities. It is currently asleep.
[???]
Description: Y□□ □□□ b□□□en □□d □□i□ul b□in□ □□o can□ e□en r□□□m□□□ □□□□s□□□.
[A Fragment of Pleasure and Passion.]
??: ??
??: ??
??: ??
Description: [When an obscene existence willed herself free of corruption, The One Who Knows felt a spark—and made it his purpose.
He crossed realms, bartered with Daemons, and stood unbidden before thrones of gods.
He waged war upon minor divines and profane lords who embodied passion and pleasure.
After a millennium adrift, he returned.
Yet for the Druid who waited, and all life within the forest's bounds, only a year had passed.
Time is an Absolute Law—and its defiance demands ruin.
To escape its wrath, he sought the Goddess of Carnal Desire and asked for her hand.
She pondered, then smiled—severed her arm, and gave it freely.
With blood of gods, a soul, a slave, a chain, and a Concept, he forged a path.
A vessel through which she might ascend from Profane to Divine.
This is one of two sacred fragments born of pleasure and passion intertwined.
*It's currently being digested*
Current Digestion: 1%]
***
It seems this is the mythic side of the Second Head Elder's tale.
Through him, Murphy has gained the ability to access the Druid's powers—though which abilities he can wield remains untested.
His affinity for the divine has deepened.
His Aspect now grants him the power to perceive—and even stir—the hidden desires of others.
More critically, Murphy has begun to digest a fragment of the Concept of Pleasure and Passion, an amalgamation brought from the divine and profane deities slain by the Second Head Elder himself. Though not yet fully integrated, its influence is undeniable.
Complete assimilation will not sanctify him.
But it will change him.
It will reshape his form—imbuing him with a beauty that borders on the divine, a presence both captivating and uncanny.
And once his Will is refined, the fragment will serve him as a source of immense power granting him ability to fight even Supreme as a Transcendent.
The other fragment must have been in the Druid.
But what truly puzzled him was the [???].
Spell refused to translate it.
'And Spell only ever refuses translation when the words are tied to a Void Being… or Forgotten God.'
Weird, Weird, extremely weird.
Why would he a mere mortal have an Attribute related to a Void Being or Forgotten God.
He didn't feel any sort of corruption either.
'Well, thinking about this won't help me in any way. If I am really corrupted, then spell would have kicked me out. So, it must be something else entirely.'
Now that he had confirmed his conditions and checked through the newly inscribed runes and boons, one thing became clear:
'That puddle of blood hadn't come from damage. It was transformation.'
The Fragment of Pleasure and Passion — buried within him— had tried to rebuild his body.
But the process had stalled—unable to progress beyond a mere one percent, shackled by the frailty of his mortal form.
'I am pretty sure it would be digested till 7 to 10% when I will become a sleeper.'
His curiosity burned hotter than fear.
What can I do now?
His vision had seemed to have changed as well. A bit clear. A bit higher.
Wondering about his physical capability, he crouched down, heart drumming. Then—
He ran.
From one end of the grove to the other, feet crashing against the forest floor, body cutting through the still air like a sharpened blade.
Wind tore past his face.
Trees blurred.
The world seemed to bend slightly at the edges.
When he stopped, he stood panting, eyes wide in disbelief.
'A hundred meters… in about ten seconds…'
His breath hitched.
He looked down at his hands — not trembling from fatigue, but from shock.
'That's more than twice my previous peak.'
'Grandpa's going to be so shocked when I return…'
Murphy smiled faintly at the thought — a rare flicker of boyish pride beneath the layers of exhaustion and horror still clinging to his bones.
But that moment passed.
Time to check the real prize.
Now, time to check the special ability he received from Druid.
He turned inward, reaching into the depths of his soul, searching for something—anything—new and unfamiliar.
It was a strange sensation, to grope blindly through the contours of his own being. Yet Attributes and Aspects belonged to the self; they existed beyond the reach of Spell, and thus could only be sensed by the one who bore them.
Time passed in silence.
And then… he felt it.
Faint, but unmistakable—a new power, slumbering deep within him, there was also something else coiled like a dream waiting to be named.
Not awakened yet… but listening.
Druid's Soul. Free of corruption. Burning with Embers of Divinity.
Feeling a bit weird, seeing such a breath takingly beautiful being sleeping curled in the shape of ball. Naked.
'Cough... she must be digesting the other Fragment of Passion and Pleasure. If I am not wrong, she will only awaken when I could use my will. When I will become a Transcendent.'
He braced himself, took a deep breath, and activated it.
He expected vines — maybe his limbs turning into bark, or the power to vanish into trees, or perhaps even the Druid's phase-jump ability.
But… nothing happened.
No shift in his form. No sudden blooming of power through his limbs.
Just a quiet pull — like something had been drawn out of him.
"What the hell…?"
Murphy frowned, unsettled.
Then he opened his eyes.
And froze.
Divine rays of soft golden light were falling through the canopy, pouring over the grove in slow, gentle waves.
Everywhere the light touched, life bloomed.
Trampled grass straightened and turned vibrant green.
Cracks in the trees mended.
Wilted buds swelled into rich blossoms of red, blue, and white.
The air turned crisp, fragrant — like spring after a century of drought.
And the grove — the grove —once a place of whispered pain and perverse death, now felt…
Pure.
The despair, the remnants of corrupted pleasure, the shadows of dying screams — all washed away.
Murphy staggered a little, staring at his hands.
It felt like he had bled something. Given something up.
And somehow, that sacrifice — had become life.
He decided to call this ability...Sacrifice.