Death to Power
Copyright© 2025 by TheSmartOne
Chapter 21: New Trait
Kaden lay on the ground, broken.
His body ached in ways he’d never known before. Every nerve felt like it had been lit on fire and twisted for hours. The pain wasn’t just physical—it drilled into his bones, his soul, his mind.
He had died many times before. But those deaths were quick—clean ends, sudden stabs of agony that vanished into the dark. This?
This wasn’t death.
This was hell.
‘Fuck... ‘ Kaden gritted his teeth, doing everything in his power not to lose consciousness. But it was a battle he was slowly losing. His mind cracked at the edges, his thoughts blurring into pain.
‘Put fifteen into Constitution ... half on Will ... now!’ he roared inside his mind, commanding Death itself to process his newly earned stat points.
[DING! Confirmed.]
Immediately, something shifted.
The bleeding slowed. The agony lessened, just enough for his brain to start functioning again. His vision steadied. His breath no longer came out in broken gasps.
It still hurt—like hell—but he wasn’t dying anymore. At least not yet.
“Quite interesting,” came Nocthar’s voice.
Kaden opened his eyes—barely—and saw him for the first time standing. Not a shadow, not an illusion. Real. Solid. Impossibly tall.
One blink, and he was suddenly in front of Kaden, standing like he had been there the whole time.
“Even in my weakened state ... to survive one of my attacks as a mere Awakened,” Nocthar said, studying him like a rare breed of animal. “That’s no small feat.”
He meant it.
Nocthar had seen talent before. But talent without grit was worthless. Kaden had both—and something else. He could see it ... hidden beneath the blood and bruises. The signs were faint, but there.
That’s what she would’ve cared about.
Nocthar reached down, placing his hand lightly on Kaden’s chest. His eyes narrowed, then a subtle frown crossed his face.
‘It’s there. Incomplete ... but present.’
A pause.
Then he smirked.
‘Is this fate?’
He made his decision.
A subtle pulse of power passed from Nocthar’s fingers into Kaden’s battered body. Instantly, blood reversed direction, seeping back into veins. Flesh began to mend. Muscle knit. Bones clicked and reformed. His left arm—completely obliterated—grew anew before their eyes.
Within seconds, Kaden looked ... whole again. No blood. No wounds. It was like the battle had never happened—except for his tattered clothes, the only evidence that he’d been broken, shattered, and nearly killed.
Kaden sat up slowly, inhaling deeply. He winced, still feeling phantom pain, but at least he could breathe again. His eyes met Nocthar’s, who looked at him with a strange glint.
Unease stirred inside him.
“I am a man of my word,” Nocthar said. “You took one strike from me and lived. So I’ll keep my promise.”
He held out a small vial. Inside swirled a thick, shimmering black liquid—like molten night. It pulsed with power. Dangerous. Alive.
Kaden squinted. “ ... What is it?”