The outer shell of the [Gilded Vault-Wraith] was not organic. It was an industrial nightmare—a tectonic plate of hardened Flux-resin, calcified bone, and crushed armored plating. To Ren’s touch, it felt like cold, jagged obsidian. Embedded in this "skin" were the treasures of a thousand dead scavengers: Rolex watches that no longer ticked, gold coins fused together like scales, and the buckled doors of safe-deposit boxes acting as literal armor plating. It was a shell built on the weight of human greed, and it was nearly a foot thick.
Ren lay flat against this jagged landscape, his breath coming in shallow, wet hitches. The mahogany table leg still protruded from his stomach, pinning him to his target. He didn't have the strength to pull it out, nor the time to find a better way.
He reached out his one good hand, his fingers trembling as they brushed the cold, resin-slicked surface of the shell.
“[SIPHON],” he whispered.
The darkness in his shriveled arm didn't just pulse; it screamed. A jagged, necrotic thread of energy connected his palm to the Wraith’s back.
[MP: 5/12]
[MP: 4/12]
[MP: 3/12]
The cost was heavy. Every point of mana felt like a pound of lead being dragged through his veins. But as his mana drained, the "Account" began to pay back.
[HP: 2/13]
[HP: 6/13]
[HP: 10/13]
[HP: 13/13 (MAX)]
For the first time in days, the crushing weight on Ren’s chest lightened. The "Rot" in his lungs didn't vanish—it was permanent—but the raw, bleeding holes in his status bar filled with a cold, stolen vitality. The table leg in his gut felt less like a death sentence and more like a nuisance.
However, the Siphon wasn't enough to kill a Level 8 Apex. The creature’s health pool was a vast ocean, and Ren was drinking it through a straw. But as he drained the energy, the shell beneath his hand began to change. The Flux-resin, once harder than diamond, began to turn brittle and gray. The vibrant gold coins lost their luster, turning into crumbling lead. He was siphoning the cohesion out of the beast’s armor.
Stolen novel; please report.
Ren’s eyes scanned the debris around him. His fingers closed around a jagged shard of a broken ceramic armor plate—a winners remnant. It was sharp enough to shave with.
He began to hack.
Clang. Crack. Crunch.
He struck the weakened spot over and over. His 13 HP didn't make him stronger, but it gave him the stamina to persist. Finally, with a sound like a mountain splitting, the outer shell shattered. Beneath the gold and the resin lay the raw, translucent white meat of the beast. It smelled of ozone and deep-sea brine.
The moment the shard pierced the flesh, the world turned into an earthquake.
The Wraith didn't just wake up; it screamed in a frequency that shattered the remaining windows of the bank. The massive creature reared back, its mountain of a body tilting at a forty-five-degree angle. It knew. It felt the parasite.
The beast went into a frenzy. It slammed its back against the marble pillars of the bank, trying to crush Ren against the stone. It spun in wild, violent circles, its massive pincers raking at the air in a desperate, blind rage. But it was a victim of its own design. Its limbs were too short, its body too wide. It was a tank trying to swat a fly on its own turret.
Ren held on with a grip of iron. He drove the ceramic shard deeper into the soft, vibrating meat.
He wasn't just stabbing; he was carving. He dug his way in, using his shriveled arm to pull himself deeper into the wound, effectively burying himself inside the monster's nervous system.
Blood—thick, glowing, and hot—gushed out in geysers, drenching Ren until he looked like a red ghost.
[LABOURED BREATHING]
[HP: 12/13]
[HP: 11/13]
His health was ticking down again. The exertion was making his lungs burn, and a violent coughing fit sent sprays of dark blood onto the white meat of the Wraith. But he didn't stop. He hacked, he tore, and he siphoned. He was a virus that had finally found the heart of the host.
Minutes turned into an eternity of shaking and screaming. The Wraith’s movements began to slow. Its subsonic roars turned into wet, gurgling whimpers. Its massive legs trembled, the structural integrity of the "Bank" failing as its master died.
Finally, with one last, shuddering heave, the titan collapsed. The impact shook the entire block.
The silence that followed was absolute.
[SUCCESSFULLY KILLED A LEVEL 8: GILDED VAULT-WRAITH]
[GAINED 10,000 XP]
A golden light—purer and more violent than the Monolith—erupted from the beast’s core, washing over Ren.
[LEVEL UP - 3]
[LEVEL UP - 4]
[XP: 6,411 / 6,500]
Ren slumped back into the hollowed-out crater he had carved in the beast’s spine. His body felt like it was made of cooling lava. The "Level Up" had refilled his HP and cleared his fatigue, but the sheer mental toll of the kill was staggering.
Then, the sun hit.
The first rays of the morning sun crested the edge of the bank’s broken roof, turning the dust in the air into glittering diamonds. To any other player, it would have been a beautiful sight. To Ren, it was an anchor.
His Passive, [SHADOW WEIGHT], activated instantly. As the light touched the beast’s corpse, Ren felt his body grow exponentially heavier. He wasn't turning into stone, but his muscles refused to obey. He was pinned to the top of his kill by the very sun he had raced to beat. He was the king of a mountain of gold, but he was a king who couldn't move his throne.
He lay there, staring up at the amber sky. He was Level 4. He was one of if not the highest-level player in the city. And he was completely helpless.
Ren opened his mouth to breathe, but instead of air, a thin, wispy trail of black smoke escaped his lips. It wasn't just a cough; it was the "Rot" reacting to the massive influx of Level 8 energy he had just consumed. He was a battery that had been overcharged, and he could feel the sickness inside him purring with new, terrifying strength.
He closed his eyes.
