Dark Divinity

Omen approached a massive tree, its towering presence and rugged bark imposing against the moonlit sky. Determination steeled his nerves as he prepared to test his newfound ability.

With a deep breath, he stepped onto the tree's bark. To his surprise, gravity appeared to loosen its grip on him. Instead of tumbling to the earth, he remained perfectly horizontal with his feet firmly planted against the tree. A big grin went across his face when he realised he could walk across the tree's surface without difficulty.

As he began to move, his smile expanded. The experience was...thrilling; he was moving effortlessly up the tree trunk, defying gravity in ways he had never imagined. The higher he climbed, the more exhilarating the experience got.

Despite the urge to run, he knew he needed to master the quick dash before attempting it at full speed. He proceeded to walk up and down the tree, familiarising himself with the new perspective and the feeling of stability on the vertical surface.

After getting a feel for walking on the tree, he focused on practicing the instant dash. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the instant dash. He activated the ability swiftly, thrusting himself forward at tremendous speed. The rush of air and blur of the covers were thrilling, but he pushed to maintain his pace. He clashed with a few plants, correcting his direction and recalibrating his controls.

Determined, he repeated the exercise, each time refining his technique. He adjusted the angle of his dashes, learning to control his speed and direction more precisely. The process was challenging, but each attempt brought him closer to mastering the skill.

As the night wore on, Omen continued his practice, driven by a mix of excitement and determination. Omen's realisation about the instant dash was both enlightening and sobering. He had hoped for superhuman speed, but instead, he had gained the ability to move instantaneously in any direction. This burst of speed came with its own set of limitations—while he could rapidly traverse distances, the ability did not grant him perfect navigation.

The skill drained his energy quickly, making it clear that over-reliance on it could be dangerous. Despite this, Omen couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. In less than two days, he had become stronger than he had ever been in his entire life in Tenebris. The progress was remarkable, and the potential of his abilities was immense.

'My mother had better have a valid reason for sealing this ability,' he thought bitterly. 'And for making me look like a failure before the empire.'

He had absorbed three different abilities from slaying the mutated squirrels. The tree walker, instant dash, and exogene sense. He activated his [exogene sense]. The ability was straightforward but essential: it allowed him to sense exogene signatures within a radius of about ten meters. The skill didn't extend to mundane living creatures, but it was invaluable for detecting those with supernatural abilities or significant exogene.

As he concentrated, he felt the subtle pulse of exogene around him. The skill illuminated the presence of various energy sources within the ten-meter radius, though nothing in his immediate vicinity seemed particularly noteworthy. The radius of the sense was limited, but Omen was aware that it might improve with time and experience. He hoped that as he honed his skills, the [exogene sense] would become more refined and extend further, providing greater insight into his surroundings and potential threats.

'Maybe over time, the potential will increase,' he mused. 'After all, I need to use what I've stolen.'

By morning, Omen had gained a clearer understanding of his abilities. He later on noticed with some surprise that he wasn't tired, nor had he even broken much sweat from his rigorous training. This lack of fatigue seemed unusual, especially considering the physical exertion involved.

'Is this another passive skill?' He wondered, examining the sensation of vitality and energy that remained unshaken. The rodents he had absorbed hadn't exhibited this kind of ability, so it seemed to stem from his base power—the potential theft.

The realisation struck him: the absence of exhaustion might be a boon associated with his ability to absorb and utilise the powers of living creatures. If this were the case, it suggested that every time he absorbed a living being, he might receive additional benefits beyond just the abilities of that creature. This discovery opened up a fascinating possibility:

'Am I bound to receive a boon anytime I absorb a living thing?' The prospect was intriguing. If each absorption could potentially grant him further enhancements or passive skills, it would dramatically expand his capabilities and advantages. The thought of gaining continuous advantages made his journey seem even more thrilling. It was clear that his power had layers and complexities he was only beginning to uncover.

With renewed excitement, Omen approached the camp with a smile, ready to wake Isolde and prepare a meal. However, his heart sank as he suddenly discovered that he couldn't move.

Panic surged through him as he realised his body was completely immobilized. 'What is this?' he thought, his mind racing with fear and confusion. The sensation of being unable to move was terrifying, and it only intensified as he raised his head, albeit with difficulty, and saw Isolde bound by thick ropes. Her white gown was torn, exposing parts of her body that should have remained hidden.

'Whoever did this is going to pay,' he vowed silently, his anger boiling over. The injustice of the situation and the violation of Isolde's safety ignited a fierce fury within him.

Omen strained against the unseen force that held him, trying to regain control over his body. His mind worked furiously, trying to figure out what had caused his paralysis and how he could free himself. As he struggled, he realised that his immobilisation was likely a result of a magical trap or an external influence or eve—

"Hmm, this one is special. He can still move his head despite the spell". 

Omen's head immediately snapped towards the masculine voice to discover a muscular man with a low-cut fade and a small stubble of a moustache. His presence commanded attention. His wicked smile widened as he took in the sight of Omen. The man's eyes glinted with cruel amusement as he surveyed Omen's predicament.

"Is he the only one, Chenaira?" the man asked, his voice dripping with malevolence. His gaze remained fixed on Omen, who was still immobilised and bewildered.

Before Omen could figure out when and why his name suddenly turned to 'Chenaira,' a soft, seductive voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Seems like it." The girl materialised out of thin air; it was as if she just appeared into existence. Her sudden appearance was both disorienting and unsettling. Despite being so close to his ten-meter radius, [exogene sense] had failed to discover her.

The muscular man's expression shifted to a mixture of irritation and impatience. "Well?" he prompted, his gaze shifting to Chenaira.

Chenaira responded with a nonchalant tone. "Yes, he's the only one here. But I have my doubts about his abilities. Omen, despite his immobilised state, focused on the exchange between the two. The girl's eyes, now fully visible, met Omen's with a calculating gaze. Her presence added a layer of complexity to the already tense situation.

The contrast between the two figures was stark: the man, Kan, had a malevolent grin that spoke of cruel intent, while Chenaira's expression was stern and indifferent, tinged with a hint of boredom. Her beauty was striking, with her height and curvaceous figure making her an imposing presence.

Chenaira's eyes, sharp and calculating, briefly scanned Omen once again. "Hmm, this one's mind is strong as well," she noted with a sly smile. Her words, though seemingly complimentary, carried an edge of intrigue and menace. She turned her attention to Kan, who was standing before the bound Isolde.

 "Take him to Jacobi, would you, Kan?" Chenaira instructed. Her voice was authoritative but carried an undertone of disinterest.

Kan's response was dismissive. "You can carry him then. I'm more interested in the female." His gaze shifted to Isolde, his eerie smile widening. "It can sense exogene signatures, but it's much weaker than I expected. This is going to be fun nevertheless." The malevolence in his tone suggested he was looking forward to tormenting her, further igniting Omen's fury.

'It!' How dare he call Isolde an It! 'Trust me, Kan, you will know what it feels like to be an object.' Omen's anger flared, overshadowing any fear or uncertainty. The way Kan spoke about her with such cruel intent, as if she was simply a scientific experiment, only fuelled Omen's anger.

Omen growled, "You won't get away with this." But perhaps his captors thought he was too feeble to pose a threat or that he was just naively brave; all they did was grin sympathetically and go on with their talk as if he didn't exist. 'Soon, judgement will come.'