The next layer of power in this world is Attributes. These are the fundamental indicators of his physical and mental state. He saw that he possessed Strength (physical power), Resistance (bodily durability), and Agility (speed). Beyond these physical traits lay Willpower, the strength of his mental resolve.
These attributes were inherent to his being, unlike the external techniques he had acquired. He realized that whenever he sacrificed his longevity—for example, giving up an hour of his life to move a Classification from Level 1 to Level 2—that Classification would grant him points to boost specific attributes. His most recent acquisition, Violet Rose, specifically enhanced his Strength and Intelligence.
He was ready, or as ready as he could be with the clock ticking. He checked his wrist: 23 minutes and 2 seconds. A cold sweat broke across his forehead. He could drop dead before even testing his new powers.
In this world, dragons, elves, and magic were not myths; the legends he had read about—the tales of Zumburbura, the hills of Dala, and Gwauron Dutse—had all manifested as truth. While he was overjoyed at the prospect of finding his origins, the crushing weight of his short lifespan loomed over him. His priority was clear: survive the next twenty minutes and find a way to increase his longevity. Only then could he worry about food and water.
Edard approached the wall where he had first entered the cave. He opened the small "window" associated with his Dimensional Annihilation skill. Looking into that dark void, he no longer saw a pile of dry rocks; instead, he saw a pool of glowing, molten stone, thick and smoking with heat.
He pressed "Yes," and immediately, his hand began to smoke. But before the stone emerged, Edard had to make a choice. The system asked him to designate a part of his body as the conduit for the Dragon Dimension.
Should I breathe fire like the dragons of legend? he wondered. Or should I use my hands to strike with the heat of the earth? He chose his hand, believing that the combination of physical strength and molten heat would be the ultimate weapon.
He hit "Yes." For ten seconds, a searing heat burned into his skin. When it faded, a vivid red mark remained on the back of his hand—a tattoo of a magnificent dragon. It was a massive, lizard-like creature with three powerful, overlapping wings.
Through this mark, Edard gained the instinctual knowledge of how to summon materials from the void.
Edard pointed his hand at the cave entrance. Instead of the rocks he had swallowed earlier, a torrent of glowing, red-hot molten stone flooded from his palm. He used his will to guide it, sealing the cave entrance shut. He decided that if he survived, this would be his sanctuary; if a legendary elder had lived here, the cave was likely safe from lesser evils.
As he began to leave, Edard experimented with his Dragon Essence (the blue fire). He struck everything in his path—the earth, the wind, the water. Each time, the system logged the element:
Earth Element stored.
Wind Element stored.
Water stored.
Energy stored.
He was building a treasury of elements for future use. But time was his enemy. He activated his Clone Acceleration ability. Though his physical appearance didn't change, his speed transcended human limits. Even the fastest runner on Earth was not one-fifth as fast as Edard was now; he could cover a hundred meters in a single second.
As he reached the end of the mountain path, he marked a tree so he could find his way back. But as he emerged, voices drifted from behind him.
"He's just a tiny thing. No bigger than an ant," one voice mocked.
"Why would anyone bother summoning such a runt?" another asked.
"Ask the one who called him. Whatever world he's from, he's pathetic."
Edard spun around. Standing atop a small ridge were two figures. One was a man-like being with a long neck and a tail. He rode a massive lizard that possessed three pairs of wings, much like the dragon in Edard's tattoo.
His Status Key flared to life:
Edard did a quick calculation. This Kalahari was at the peak of his rank, and his mount was a speed specialist. Escape was unlikely.
"What do you want?" Edard asked, taking a cautious step back.
"Your life!" the creature hissed.
Edard checked his clock: 18 minutes and 55 seconds.
Kalahari was less than five meters away. Edard moved with blinding speed, appearing behind the man to strike with his Dragon Essence blade. Simultaneously, he activated Violet Crush, intensifying the gravity around Kalahari by 1.5 times to pin him down.
Kalahari's eyes widened as his movements slowed, his feet feeling as though they were being sucked into the earth. But the Level 10 Cultivator was faster than Edard anticipated. With a blur of motion, Kalahari twisted away and slammed his fist into Edard's chest.
The sound of snapping bone echoed in the clearing. Two of Edard's ribs shattered, and blood sprayed from his mouth. The force of the blow sent him hurtling backward, his shoulder dislocating upon impact with the ground.
Then, a terrifying message flashed:
The horror of it hit him instantly. Not only was he physically broken, but his already short lifespan was now being siphoned away at an accelerated rate.
"Greet those in the afterlife for me, alien," Kalahari said, narrowing his eyes as he prepared to drain the final flickers of life from Edard's broken body.
At that moment, Edard was truly backed into a corner. He glanced from side to side, his eyes darting across the rocky terrain for anything that might offer an advantage, but he found nothing. The man standing before him was not just stronger—he was exponentially more powerful. Furthermore, Edard possessed no formal training in combat, no tactical foresight, and no deep knowledge of warfare.
Even if they were stripped of their supernatural abilities and forced into a raw physical struggle, Edard felt he would still stand little chance against this creature—a being that mimicked a human form but clearly belonged to a different race.
However, in the depths of his despair, the very curse that had been placed upon him—the one siphoning his life away—became his salvation. Just as before, when extreme circumstances forced the immortal dais to grant him new abilities, a transformation occurred. The experience of being cursed allowed him to understand the nature of the curse itself.
A box materialized:
There was no time for deliberation. Edard accepted the skill immediately.
Edard gritted his teeth, attempting to summon his Dragon Essence blade. But the immortal dais mocked him:
Fury and pain clouded Edard's mind. To activate the curse, he needed to touch Kalahari's blood. Driven by raw instinct, he lunged forward and bit down on Kalahari's hand with everything he had.
The sound of his own teeth snapping echoed in his head, but he failed to draw a single drop of blood from the man's skin. Kalahari looked down at Edard with a mixture of pity and boredom. To him, Edard's struggle was as inconsequential as a fly landing on a camel. He simply closed his eyes, not even bothering to watch Edard's pathetic attempts to harm him.
In that moment, Edard lost all semblance of sanity. He reached up, grabbed his own shattered arm—which was dangling uselessly from his dislocated shoulder—and ripped it further until the jagged bone was exposed. Using his one good hand, he drove his own splintered bone deep into Kalahari's abdomen.
Finally, blood flowed. Through a haze of agony and blurred vision, Edard reached out and smeared the warm blood onto his palm.
The curse began to take hold. And then the Immortal Dais flickered with warnings:
Edard, barely conscious and unable to read the text, didn't care. He held on. Kalahari, who had been wearing a smirk of superiority, suddenly felt the world shift. The arrogance vanished from his face, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated confusion.
Then, the physical transformation began. The moisture was sucked from Kalahari's skin. His flesh turned brittle and charred, as if being burned from the inside out. Steam and smoke began to rise from his body as his internal fluids evaporated. In less than five seconds, the mighty warrior had shriveled into a husk—a dried-out, blackened shell of a man, looking like a desiccated fish left too long in the sun. He died with that look of utter shock frozen on his face.
Edard collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as the adrenaline began to fade and the pain returned. He watched in awe as his torn arm began to sprout anew, the flesh weaving itself back together as if being pulled from thin air. His broken teeth pushed back through his gums, and his shattered ribs knitted themselves whole. Within five minutes, the agony was gone, and he stood with a brand-new arm.
He looked at Kalahari's corpse, hoping to siphon more longevity to sustain himself, but there was nothing left. The man was a pillar of salt and dust. Even Kalahari's mount, the winged lizard, lay nearby, its eyes rolled back, paralyzed by the severing of the spiritual bond with its master.
"Where is all that talk now?" Edard spat. He summoned a small amount of Dragon Essence and struck the lizard's leg to test his curse again, but nothing happened. The immortal dais reminded him: the curse only worked on those with energy. The creature was too far gone.
He checked his clock: 17 minutes and 44 seconds.
Edard knew he had no time to waste. He looked at the winged lizard. The beast was motionless; the death of its master had severed their psychic link, leaving it in a vegetative state. Edard didn't know who Kalahari was or why he had attacked, but from the man's final words—"Who called him?"—it was clear that Edard's arrival was not as secret as he had hoped.
Searching Kalahari's shriveled remains, he found no identification, no family crest—only a small satchel containing a few glowing stones.
Edard began to move. He walked for three paces, then stopped and looked back at the corpse. A heavy weight settled in his chest. Despite the creature's alien features, it felt like he had killed a man. He thought about burying him, but he realized that doing so would cost him ten minutes of his life.
In his old life, ten minutes was nothing. Here, ten minutes was a fortune.
He shook off the guilt. "He tried to kill me," he whispered. "I have to survive." He vowed that he would do whatever it took to stay alive, even if it meant committing acts he would later regret. If he died here, his origin and his family would remain lost forever.
He climbed a nearby ridge to scout the terrain.
To the East: A dense, alien forest. Huge, branchless leaves carpeted the ground as far as the eye could see. There was no sign of civilization.
To the West: Massive, jagged mountains, even taller than the ones he had just left.
To the South: Desolate, bone-dry peaks that looked as though they hadn't seen a drop of water in centuries.
To the North: Far in the distance, a massive shimmering blue—a Great River.
"That's my only hope," Edard decided. He designated his directions: North, South, East, and West. He reactivated his Clone Acceleration ability and sprinted toward the water.
As he ran, he kept his Spiritual Sense and Interracial Communication active, hoping to catch the scent of life or hear the chatter of animals that might lead him to safety.
16 minutes and 6 seconds.
The grave was calling, and the blue horizon of the river seemed to stay stubbornly distant. He pushed his body to its limits, his eyes constantly darting to the countdown on his wrist. When the clock hit 14 minutes and 10 seconds, he realized with a sinking heart that the river was no longer visible.
Was it a mirage? he wondered frantically.