Currently, Vahn Ryker was losing a war against his own body.
He sat slumped against the far wall of the bunker, his eyes closed, his chest heaving with slow, labored breaths. The [Calamity Curse] pulsed with a sickly, rhythmic black light beneath his shirt, fighting aggressively against the residual golden healing magic Aria had layered over his skin.
He opened his internal interface, his mind feeling thick and sluggish, like trying to run a high-end physics simulation on an outdated processor. The numbers were terrifying. What had started as a one percent stat drain per hour had violently accelerated after his confrontation with the Golden Dragon guild. He was currently bleeding out five percent of his latent attributes every sixty minutes. His Agility, which had allowed him to walk on thin air and dodge light-speed projectiles, was severely compromised. His processing speed—the core of his Architect class—was staggering.
