Immortal descent

Aeron stepped into his room, the door clicking shut behind him. The encounter with the elf still lingered in his mind, her reaction to his power, the way she had faltered under his gaze. He settled onto the edge of his bed, the book already beginning to speak.

"She has a very compatible body," the book remarked, its voice calm and measured. "One that will be invaluable to you in the future. You'll absorb everything later."

Aeron raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh, so like fattening a cow before butchering it, right?"

"You're getting it," the book responded with a hint of amusement.

Aeron leaned back, his thoughts swirling. "Alright, I want to explore poison now," he declared, his tone decisive.

Without hesitation, a small potion bottle appeared before him, hovering in the air. The liquid inside shimmered ominously. "Let's start with this one," the book offered. "Oh, and by the way, it's 300 points. You earned more from using your skills on that girl and identifying her potential, so you're sitting at 1,500 points now."

Aeron stared at the bottle for a long moment before choosing to ignore the book's commentary. "So this is poison, right?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the unsettling liquid.

"Yes," the book confirmed. "Guess what it's for."

"I have no idea."

"This is called Fleshrot," the book explained, its tone taking on a more serious edge. "A poison that causes the skin to decay and slough off, exposing raw flesh. Its potency grows, but there's a catch—it only works if, after pouring it on yourself, you're still alive."

Aeron's eyes narrowed as he considered the bottle. He turned it over in his hands, the liquid inside swirling with a malevolent glimmer. "So, I just pour this on myself?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Exactly," the book replied. "It's not as simple as it looks. Surviving this poison will push your body to new limits, enhancing your resilience and understanding of pain."

Aeron stared at the bottle for a moment longer, the weight of the decision settling over him. He convinced himself it was just going to sting, maybe hurt a lot, but it couldn't be worse than what he'd already endured. Slowly, he uncorked the bottle, the sharp scent of the poison wafting into the room.

With a deep breath, he tipped the bottle, the liquid cascading over his skin. At first, there was nothing—a brief moment of calm before the storm. Then, the pain hit, searing and all-consuming, as if his flesh was being eaten away from the inside.

Aeron gritted his teeth, refusing to give in to the agony. His vision blurred, but he forced himself to focus, to embrace the pain. This was his path, his choice. And he would endure it, no matter the cost.

Aeron thought he could handle it, that the sting would be tolerable, but he was dead wrong. As the poison seeped into his skin, an unbearable, searing pain erupted, spreading rapidly through his body. His initial grunt of discomfort quickly escalated into a full-blown scream, raw and unrestrained. His skin began to blister, then crack, as the flesh beneath seemed to bubble and rot away.

The decay started at his hands, the flesh peeling back, revealing raw, glistening muscle beneath. His fingertips blackened, the nails falling off one by one, leaving exposed, sensitive nail beds. The poison crept up his arms, the skin sloughing off in grotesque sheets, leaving behind an open, oozing wound that stretched up to his elbows.

His chest was next, the sensation of the poison eating away at him unbearable. He could feel the ribs beneath his skin, the once-protective layer of muscle now nothing but a rotting, festering mess. His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, each one sending fresh waves of agony through his chest as the poison worked its way deeper.

As a doctor, Aeron was acutely aware of each part of his body that was succumbing to the poison's effects. The nerves in his arms screamed in protest, the pain sharp and unrelenting. His abdominal muscles spasmed as the poison reached his stomach, the visceral pain almost too much to bear. He knew the pain in his abdomen would be the worst-the nerves there were numerous and highly sensitive. Every movement sent new jolts of agony through him, each one worse than the last.

His legs buckled beneath him as the poison reached his thighs, the skin there peeling away to reveal raw, bleeding tissue. The muscles twitched uncontrollably, his body rebelling against the torment it was being subjected to. His feet felt like they were on fire, the poison having reached them last, the sensation of his soles peeling away making him want to scream again.

The pain was excruciating, overwhelming. He felt as if he were being consumed from the inside out, his body breaking down piece by piece. His vision blurred, dark spots dancing before his eyes as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. Yet, he held on, his mind refusing to give in, to succumb to the poison's merciless grip.

After what felt like an eternity, the pain began to subside. He forced his eyes open, his vision slowly clearing. He found himself already in his second form, the transformation triggered by the sheer intensity of the experience. His skin had regenerated, but it was now covered in a faint, sickly green hue. A thick, greenish gas surrounded him, swirling lazily in the air. The stench was overpowering, a nauseating mix of decay and death. It clung to him, promising deathly pain to anyone who dared come too close.

Aeron stared at the gas, his body trembling from the ordeal. This was no ordinary poison—it had not only tested his physical limits but also awakened a new, ominous power within him. The gas around him seemed to pulse with life, a manifestation of the suffering he had endured, and a harbinger of the pain he could now inflict on others.