Void Reaper: The Essence Apocalypse

[[Essence Record — Kill Confirmed]

[Target: Mutated Rat (LVL 2) x70]

[Reward: +1 STR | +1 AGI ]

[Level Up: LVL 5 → LVL 6]

[Level Up: LVL 6 → LVL 7]

[Stat Points Gained: +8]

Adam froze. A wave of familiar relief washed through his body like a warm current. Every muscle, every fiber of his being trembled with a faint buzz of satisfaction. He knew this feeling well — the effect of a Level Up.

But his mind… it was still overloaded. Void Manipulation had left behind its familiar burn — like someone was stretching nerves from the inside and refusing to let go. His thoughts clung together, sluggish, like they were wading through syrup. It wasn't anything new, but it was still maddeningly exhausting. Mental fatigue didn't disappear with leveling up. If anything — it lingered like smoke after a fire.

He looked around.

The rest of the warriors were beginning to straighten up as well. One cracked his neck, another exhaled in visible relief. Even those who moments ago could barely stand now looked as if someone had lifted a hundred-pound burden off their backs.

"It really works…" muttered the woman with the sword and shield. "One level up and the fatigue just disappears."

"Why the hell does it work on the body and not the brain?!" growled the guy in leather armor, his hands still trembling as he leaned on his knees. "Someone needs to patch this damn system before my brain melts."

Adam was about to respond but couldn't stop a small smile from creeping onto his face. The guy's whining had something strangely familiar about it. For a brief moment, he remembered he wasn't the only one feeling like his mind had just been fried.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the light-haired woman — the one who had been singing — rush over to the injured boy with the axe, who was sliding down the wall like a sack of potatoes.

The boy hit the ground with a dull thud. He collapsed at the base of the wall, limp, as if someone had cut all his strings. His clothes were soaked with blood, and his face had the color of paper — a paleness that spelled nothing good. His legs sprawled out uselessly, and one hand twitched lightly, as if his body was still trying to fight even though his strength had long since left him.

The light-haired woman dropped to her knees beside him. Her breath was fast, uneven. Her hands shook as she touched his face, checking if he was still breathing. Her eyes were wide, barely holding back tears.

"No... not now... Kael... don't you dare..." she whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear.

The boy with the axe, barely conscious, tried to smile. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, then fell. He let out a faint, rasping chuckle, like he wanted to say something dumb but no longer had the strength.

Adam didn't hesitate. The boy's wounds looked awful — torn muscles, bleeding tissue, too much damage for a bandage to do anything.

But then a thought struck him.

As Adam knelt beside the axe-wielder, the rest of the team closed in, forming a half-circle around them. Their eyes were filled with tension and concern. The light-haired woman clenched her hands so hard her knuckles turned white.

"Check your HP," Adam said firmly, crouching down. "If you've got plenty left, use 50, 60 points. Right now."

"What...?" the woman's voice trembled. She stared at him, a mix of shock and anger in her eyes. "How is he even supposed to do that?! HP it's not something you can just... spend!" Her words were fast, clipped, like she couldn't believe she had to explain this at all.

Adam winced slightly. "That's not how it works, not really," he said calmly, looking her straight in the eyes. "HP isn't a health bar like in a game. It's energy — a resource your body uses to repair itself."

He turned back to the injured boy, leaned closer, and spoke slowly, clearly:

"If you've still got HP, focus on your wounds. Think of it as giving up some of that energy so your body can patch itself. Don't think in numbers. Just... let it flow. Like you want the pain to melt away."

Kael looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, then gave a weak nod. A moment later, everyone saw something... strange.

From somewhere between his chest and the torn flesh came a wave of warmth. At first it was barely there, like the kiss of sunlight on skin. Then it grew — pulsing, unmistakable, like something invisible was boiling just beneath the surface. The blood that had been flowing freely began to slow, then stopped entirely. The torn skin twitched as if trying to stitch itself together — and it did. It sealed itself softly, smoothly, leaving behind faint dark lines and fresh, glistening scars. The whole thing lasted maybe ten seconds, but it felt like witnessing a miracle — or something that shouldn't be seen with bare eyes.

"That..." whispered the woman with the sword and shield. "That looks like magic."

The others stayed silent, eyes fixed on the healing wounds. The man with the massive hammer actually stepped back, disbelief plain on his face. The one with energy daggers just raised his brows, surprised but clearly intrigued.

The light-haired woman finally exhaled, as if she'd been holding her breath the entire time. Her shoulders slumped, her hands stopped trembling. She stared at the axe-wielder with something between awe and gratitude.

"He's not bleeding anymore..." she said softly.

The boy opened his eyes and looked at the girl kneeling beside him. There was something gentle in his gaze, almost thankful. The corners of his lips twitched in a barely-there smile and he opened his mouth as if to speak. But before he could say a single word — his gaze dimmed, his body slackened, and he passed out with a soft sigh, as if finally allowing himself a moment of peace.

The light-haired woman immediately caught him, stopping his head from hitting the ground. She knelt beside him, pulling him close enough that her hair fell across his shoulder. Her hand trembled as she touched his cheek. She stared at his still face, struggling to breathe, as if the world had momentarily stopped turning.

She leaned in, listening to his breathing. When she saw his chest gently rising and falling, she exhaled a breath of deep relief, like a noose had just loosened from around her throat.

"He's breathing..." she whispered.

Adam looked at the axe-boy's limp body, then at the girl beside him, her fingers still clinging to his shirt.

"He passed out from exhaustion," he said quietly, trying to calm her.

The light-haired woman raised her gaze to him. Her face was still tight, but when their eyes met, Adam saw something that made him pause. A shining, vivid sky-blue — eyes that seemed, in that moment, both strong and heartbreakingly fragile.

"Thank you," she whispered. "First for saving us from that swarm... and now for him."

She said it again, firmer, with more conviction:

"Thank you."

Adam hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. Her words — sincere, gentle — made him uncomfortable. He wasn't used to gratitude.

He simply nodded, feeling a little awkward. He had no idea what to say in a moment like this. Instead of replying, he chose to shift the topic.

"How the hell did you end up in a mess like this?"