The other monsters were still charging forward when the small monster's head slipped from Clive's grasp. It fell and bounced once before stopping on its side, its half-open eyes void of light. Blood trickled out, forming a thin trail that followed the grooves of the stone floor.
That small movement acted like a spark.
The other bodies in the corridor instantly went wild. Roars exploded, tearing through the narrow air. Their breaths came harsh and wet. Claws smashed against the floor, echoing sharply. Their eyes burned with a dim, furious red, like embers forced back to life by rage.
Clive didn't raise his head.
He paid no attention to any of it.
He was still kneeling over the small corpse.
His posture was rigid yet steady, like someone performing a task—rather than someone slaughtering. Blood dripped from his chin, sliding along the side of his face and landing on the monster's body, mixing the metallic scent of human blood with the rancid odor of a feral beast.
His hands moved quickly and precisely. The small knife was still slick with his own blood, yet he handled it like a surgical instrument. No hesitation. No pause.
He stabbed it into the monster's back, right between the shoulder blades. The sound of splitting flesh echoed clearly, wet and deep. He pulled hard. The flesh parted open. Muscle fibers snapped one by one, producing a crunchy sound that should have made an ordinary human's stomach churn.
The smell of hot flesh mixed with the creature's natural rot.
No core.
Clive paused for a moment. Not out of doubt—only to confirm.
Then he continued.
The knife shifted to the chest. He sliced from the ribcage all the way down to the lower abdomen. Small organs, swollen lungs, a shriveled stomach, and thick black mucus-like fluid spilled out, flooding both his arms. Clive didn't wipe his hands. He didn't flinch as the splatter hit his face.
He reached into the chest cavity.
No light.No pulse.No core.
His eyebrows tightened slightly. Almost unnoticeably.
A loud crash rang behind him.
Ted was pushed half a step back as he blocked something heavy, then swung his sword with a growl. The scraping of metal against flesh filled the air.
Zorilla filled the gap Ted left with his large body, ramming his shoulder into the monster that rushed in too aggressively.
Dorde, pale and drenched in cold sweat, continued parrying with tortured breaths—but not stepping back even an inch.
None of them said, "Clive, hurry."None shouted for help.None complained.
Only the harsh, rhythmic sounds of battle filled the corridor.
Clive severed the skull section.
He drove the knife into the monster's head until it hit bone, then jerked it sideways to widen the crack. The sharp snap of breaking bone echoed loud and dry, like old wood splitting apart. Blood and pale white fluid spilled out.
Clive inserted his fingers into the newly opened gap—cold, slick, and coarse—and pried it wider. The bone broke under his strength. The inside of the skull was revealed.
There.
A round, hard object the size of a large marble. A dark blue glow pulsed softly from within, like a tiny beating heart buried deep inside.
A core.
Thin cracks like lightning veins flickered across its surface. As if angry. Or as if it were still alive.
Clive gripped it. His pull was firm, tearing apart the nerves surrounding the core one by one. The small monster was already dead, yet its body twitched faintly as the object was removed.
He slid the core into the inner pocket of his clothes. His movements were calm. Unhurried. Completely unlike someone surrounded by enemies. Even his breathing was steadier than the three men behind him.
Only then did he stand.
"We're leaving."
Three short words.
As if the room wasn't smeared with blood.As if monsters weren't roaring.As if time wasn't pressing down on them.
Ted was the first to retreat, blocking attacks while sucking in ragged breaths. Zorilla shifted in sync, sweeping the right side with stiff but efficient motions. Dorde stayed in the middle, shaky, knees trembling, but still able to hold the line. None of them told Clive to be careful. They simply followed.
Monsters struck relentlessly from every angle. Growls, claws, and tearing flesh filled the air. But their formation didn't break.
Every step was a fight.Every step a choice to survive.Every step adding pressure to their chests.
Clive moved behind them, calm, eyes tracking the shifting shadows on the walls. His sword swung sideways, cutting down a monster that leaped from the dark.
The attacks grew wilder.Breathing grew heavier.
The rhythm of slashing and blocking merged with the pounding of their hearts.
The corridor felt narrower, though its size had not changed. Torchlight flickered wildly, casting jerking shadows across the stone walls.
When they finally saw the exit of the processing hall, the air shifted.
As if the pressure crushing their lungs since the beginning had partially lifted. Not gone, but enough to let their breaths steady slightly. The sound of their footsteps striking the floor became clearer, sharper.
They stepped out of the corridor.
The air felt a little lighter, though the smell of blood and dust still clung to their noses. Ted's breathing was ragged. Zorilla rubbed his bruised shoulder. Dorde held his ribs with both hands, trying to hide the pain by breathing quietly.
And at the far end of the wider hall, someone stood waiting.
Glenn.
With three members of his group. Their formation looked intentional. Glenn in front, two slightly behind at his sides, another standing directly behind him. Not aggressive, but far from neutral. As if they were waiting to judge.
Their eyes immediately moved to Clive.Or rather, to Clive's hand—the one that had held the core just moments ago before he pocketed it.
Glenn stepped forward.
One step.Another.
Not rushed. Not slow. His movements were relaxed, yet an unmistakable aura of scrutiny surrounded him. His shoulders loose, but his gaze sharp as he measured Clive from head to toe.
"That's the core from the small monster."
Not a question. A statement waiting to be confirmed.
"Yes."
Clive answered without extra words. Without tone. As if those two letters alone were enough to end a conversation he had no interest in continuing.
One corner of Glenn's mouth curled. Not a friendly smile. More like someone who had just secured an invisible victory.
"You got lucky," he said. "We're the ones who weakened it first. Without that, the monster wouldn't have faltered. You wouldn't have had a chance."
Ted let out a short breath, eyes lowering briefly as if swallowing back a remark he desperately wanted to say. His jaw tightened.
Zorilla stared at Glenn with a heavy expression. Not confrontational—but clearly rejecting the claim.
Dorde lowered his head slightly, either due to pain or because Glenn's words made him feel cornered.
Glenn patted one of his men's shoulders lightly, as if reinforcing a point only he believed. Then he stared at Clive one second longer than necessary.
"Keep it safe," he said. "Cores like that don't appear twice."
He turned around. No salute. No courtesy.
Their footsteps echoed down the hall, like a fading punctuation mark closing their interaction.
Clive watched him for a brief moment. Not long. Not intense.
He didn't need to.
Ted finally gathered enough courage to speak, his voice carrying traces of anger he had held back.
"We're the ones who—"
Clive cut him off. "Let's go."
There was no reason to waste time on Glenn.
Footsteps sounded again. Raimon appeared with two other supervisors. They carried small boards and took notes while observing the condition of each group member.
"Group one, efficiency ninety percent."
"Group two, eighty-eight percent."
Ted raised an eyebrow. Dorde let out a relieved breath. Zorilla nodded slowly.
Raimon took something out of his bag.
A scroll.
Exactly like the one Glenn had received a week earlier.
"First-stage Coreforge method. This belongs to you."
Clive accepted it. The scroll felt heavy. Not physically, but in meaning. Something within its writing felt alive, as if waiting to be touched.
"Starting tomorrow your food will be upgraded. Rest period is one week."
Finished. Raimon left without another word.
Clive's group remained silent until they reached the small rest room they usually used. When the oil lamp was lit, they sat in a half circle.
Clive opened the scroll slowly, as if afraid to damage the carved lines on its surface.
The moment the scroll fully unfolded, the room seemed to shrink.
The writing inside was not mere instructions.
The lines were too precise, too merciless. The neatly arranged diagrams resembled the anatomy of a living body cut open. Every circle, every flow arrow, every symbol looked like an illustration of pain waiting to happen.
Coreforge was not meditation. Not breathing exercises. Not something one could do with closed eyes.
It was internal surgery.
With the risk of death.
The first explanation struck immediately. No preface. No soft opening.
A monster core was used to awaken a small nucleus within the human body that had always slept in the lower abdomen. A delicate lump never consciously felt by humans, waiting for something brutal enough to force it awake. The Coreforge process compelled the fragile human body to imitate the energy structure of monsters. The channeling was raw. Unnatural. Like forcing a small stream to mimic a waterfall.
If the connection failed, the energy would burst. It would spread across the organs, destroying everything from within. From the heart, from the lungs, from the intestines, from the tiny unnamed vessels usually omitted in simple anatomical diagrams.
There was no second chance.
A core could only be absorbed by one person.
It could not be shared. Not transferred. Not reused.
Whoever absorbed it would live with the consequences. Or die because of them.
Silence filled the room like slowly settling mist. Ted stood rigidly, eyes fixed on the largest diagram depicting a human spine with energy paths drawn like shattered cracks. He swallowed hard, the sound clear in the quiet room.
Zorilla inhaled very slowly, as if even his breath might trigger something dangerous. He looked at the core on the table as if staring at a wild beast, not a small object glowing faintly.
Dorde stared at the core with dark, unblinking eyes. Something heavy lay within that gaze. Not desire. More like the understanding that the core could alter the course of their lives. Or cut one of them off forever.
Clive closed the scroll carefully, treating every fold as if it deserved respect. Then he spoke softly, his voice calm yet firm.
"With our current composition, this core is most effective if Zorilla absorbs it."
Zorilla immediately shook his head. The movement was sharp, almost purely reflexive. "No."
Ted pointed at Clive without hesitation. "You should be the one to absorb it."
Clive raised a faint eyebrow. "Zorilla contributed more today."
Ted frowned. "That's not it."
Dorde stepped closer, his voice emerging quietly yet steadily, a tone that was not easily dismissed.
"What made us succeed today was you."
Zorilla lowered his head. His voice was low, almost like a confession. "When you stood alone against that small monster… I thought you were going to die. But you didn't waver."
Ted added, his muttering faint but honest. "And the way you killed it. That wasn't normal."
Clive remained silent. Not offended. Not proud. Just silent. Letting their words settle, arranging what he felt, what he had done, and what might come next.
The three looked at him with the same expression. A kind of resolve that had crystallized through the battles and hardships they had endured together.
Finally, Clive nodded slightly.
"I understand."
He picked up the core with both hands. The object felt heavy, not physically, but in meaning. Like holding a decision that could never be undone.
"Thank you."
Zorilla stood and thumped his chest once, signaling readiness. "We will keep watch. Choose the quietest corner."
Ted had already drawn his sword. Dorde checked his blade. The three moved by instinct, forming a defensive circle.
Clive rose.
He walked to the darkest corner of the room. The lamplight didn't fully reach it. Only half of his face was lit, the other half swallowed by shadow.
He sat down.
His legs folded.
His back straightened.
His palms opened the core.
A deep blue light pulsed softly. Like a small heartbeat that did not belong to a human.
Clive inhaled.
Slow.
Deep.
And began to absorb it.