Dark Divinity

With a burst of speed, Omen sprinted through the woods, the ground a blur beneath him. He could hear the distant call of night creatures and the rustle of leaves stirred by his passage. Branches whipped past his face, and the cold bite of the night air stung his skin.

Suddenly, Omen veered sharply, leaping into a tree with the grace of a predator. His [Tree Walker] ability activated, allowing him to meld with the bark and scale the trunk effortlessly. The world below became a distant, shadowy expanse as he ascended rapidly. His [Instant Dash] ability propelled him from branch to branch, each leap calculated and precise.

The canopy above formed a dark, woven tapestry of leaves and branches, providing a natural barrier against the approaching night. Omen moved with a slickness bordering on instinct, his senses sharpened as he crossed the forest's vertical realm.

As he vaulted from one branch to the next, he could feel the strain on his muscles from his relentless exertion. Sweat combined with dirt on his brow, and he exhaled in ragged gasps.

Finally, when the last rays of sunshine faded and the sky turned velvety black, Omen found some respite. He landed softly on a high branch and crouched to collect his breath.

"Phew! I believe this distance is sufficient," he exclaimed as he reclined on the tree. He'd been running for hours to gain a decent distance between himself and Jacobi's crew. Fortunately, he hadn't encountered any beast malicious enough to attack him.

Omen looked out over the expanse of the forest, the dim light of the moon filtering through the leaves. The night was beautiful and ominous, a vast expanse filled with unseen dangers. His pulse gradually slowed, but the urgency in his chest remained.

Omen's fingers traced the contours of the small, oval-shaped device given to him by Unit A-17. The beacon was a sleek, metallic object with an intricate design etched into its surface. Its surface was cool and smooth under his touch, 'what a weird robot?'

The robot had claimed it was programmed to track individuals with unique energy signatures. Omen's mind raced with possibilities. Did it mean he was being tracked simply for being a Tenebrii? Or was it because of his specific potential-stealing ability, which allowed him to absorb and manipulate the powers of others?

He pocketed the beacon, determined not to use it unless necessary. The device could be a lifeline or a trap, and he intended to use it only when he had no other options. For now, his focus had to be on gaining the strength he needed to survive the purges and face Jacobi and his henchmen.

Omen glanced around the darkened forest, the oppressive canopy above cutting off most of the moonlight. The forest was a cold, labyrinthine expanse, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.

Now, he had to train. Omen set to work immediately. He began by practising his [Tree Walker] ability, merging with the shadows of the forest and moving silently through the undergrowth. He focused on increasing his speed and agility, pushing himself to the edge of his physical and mental limits. He practised [Instant Dash], refining his ability to move rapidly between locations

As the hours passed, he felt a growing sense of progress, his control over his abilities improving. Omen's breath came in sharp bursts as he forced himself to activate all of his senses simultaneously. The surge of sensory information nearly overwhelmed him. His vision shifted, darkening as his night vision kicked in, revealing the forest in stark monochrome shades. Shadows and shapes that had previously been concealed now stood out with unnerving clarity.

His exogen-sensing ability flared to life, the faint currents of magical energy swirling around him like invisible threads. The exogene in the forest pulsed and fluctuated, creating a dynamic array of energy that was both mesmerizing and disorienting. [Enhanced sensing] heightened every sound and movement, each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs amplified to an almost painful degree.

[Vibration sensing] completed the onslaught of information. He felt the subtle tremors of creatures moving through the earth, the vibrations of distant footsteps, and even the minute disturbances caused by the shifting wind. The forest was alive with sensation, each detail a fragment of the chaotic whole.

'What the fuck!' Omen staggered briefly, straining to stay upright as his mind battled to digest the deluge of information. His head throbbed with exertion, and for a moment, he became lost in the overwhelming sensory input. The environment around him was a chaotic jumble of movements and impulses, and he needed to concentrate to make sense of it all.

The radius of his combined senses extended to twenty meters, a significant improvement but still insufficient for his needs. He could already see the gaps in his awareness, the blind spots that could lead to another ambush or capture. The forest was a realm of constant danger, and every shortcoming in his senses could be fatal.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, centring his focus. The key was not just to enhance his senses but to refine his ability to process and react to the information. He needed to develop an instinctive awareness, an ability to sift through the chaos and detect threats before they materialized.

Omen began to practice filtering and prioritizing the sensory data. He concentrated on isolating critical information, homing in on potential threats while tuning out less relevant stimuli.

As he practised, he improved his ability to comprehend every signal around him. The vibrations of a little critter scurrying across the forest floor, the faintest rustle of a hidden predator—he learnt to pick up on these delicate clues within the cacophony. Each tweak brought him closer to the level of awareness required to avoid future ambushes.

The forest around him seemed to grow quieter as he refined his senses. The heightened awareness allowed him to detect even the smallest shifts in the environment. He could sense the approach of distant creatures, the subtle movements of the foliage, and the faintest disruptions in the exogene flow.

Hours passed as Omen honed his senses, his body and mind pushed to their limits. The night deepened, the forest growing colder and more still. His [exogene sense] detected several potential prey—small, energy-sensing creatures that had an aura of weakness about them. They were skirting the edges of his awareness, skittish and elusive. Omen was in no mood to hunt down the more dangerous beings lurking in the dark corners of the forest. Tonight, he would focus on the easier targets that his enhanced senses could locate.

He followed the faint traces of exogene from his prey. They were small, almost insignificant in their energy output, but they were close. As he drew nearer, he could see the faint outlines of his targets: small, timid creatures that seemed more like shadows themselves than actual beings. Their presence was barely perceptible, their energy signatures like whispers in the vast expanse of the forest. They moved slowly, barely disturbing the underbrush.

With a swift, precise motion, he reached out, his hand closing around the creature with an almost inaudible whisper. The creature squirmed in his grasp, its energy flickering weakly as it realized the danger. Omen's eyes remained cold and focused as he subdued it quickly.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his senses still sharp and alert. It wasn't enough, there were no new abilities with this kill. Just raw energy. As he continued hunting, he came across a few more of the small creatures, each one adding to the night's grim tally. Their energy was absorbed, and their bodies were left as silent witnesses to the darkness that had claimed them. The woods were indeed weeping tonight, though it was a different kind of sorrow—one of predatory dominance and the relentless quest for power.

Omen's disappointment was profound as the first rays of dawn filtered through the dense canopy, casting a soft, golden light over the clearing. The ground was littered with the remnants of his prey—small, lifeless bodies that marked his futile efforts of the night. He had hunted relentlessly, absorbing their raw energy in the hope of gaining powerful skills, but the results had been discouraging.

The only thing he got was a useless passive skill [Evasive!]

The [Evasive] skill, while useful in certain contexts, felt like a poor reward for his efforts. It was a basic ability, one that seemed to offer little more than a marginal increase in his agility. The skill did not provide the transformative advantage he had hoped for. His frustration mounted as he compared it to the more valuable abilities he had previously acquired.

Omen sat amidst the fallen creatures, his breath steadying as he tried to clear his mind. The raw energy he absorbed was not translating into the substantial abilities he needed. It seemed that acquiring skills was not just about the quantity of energy absorbed but possibly about the nature of the prey or the specific conditions under which they were taken.

He pondered over his observations. The [Relentless] skill had come from a formidable opponent, the giant bird, a creature of immense power and aggression. The pattern was puzzling. Was there a specific criterion or a threshold he needed to meet to gain more significant skills? Or was it a matter of luck, as he had initially feared? The randomness of the process was maddening, leaving him with a growing sense of frustration. The more he thought about it, the less he understood how his abilities were truly activated.

…..

The fifth day was a depressing and repetitive stretch of time. The forest's oppressive solitude was infrequently broken by distant sounds, including birds chirping, leaves rustling, and faint echoes of things moving through the underbrush. However, these sounds did little to assuage Omen's boredom and irritation.

Driven by curiosity, Omen decided to test whether he could eat still, he hadn't gotten any new abilities. Was it possible to gain some by eating the flesh of his new kills?

"What harm is there, worst case scenario, I'll just vomit it", he thought as he shot down a small bird with a rock, receiving no abilities and then, with some effort, started a fire. The crackling of the flames and the aroma of roasting meat were almost comforting, a reminder of simpler times when he hunted in the Tenebrii forest with his siblings. He skinned and prepared the bird, skewering it and cooking it until it was adequately charred. With a mixture of hope and apprehension, he took a bite.

When the morsel reached his mouth, a burning anguish ran through his entire being. It was as if the flame itself had entered his system, causing a sensation so strong that it felt as if his whole existence was being consumed from within. His veins appeared to writhe and convulse, and he experienced a wave of nausea that nearly overpowered him.

Omen's throat clenched, and he could feel blood seeping out. His body went into a violent spasm as he attempted to get the offending morsel out of his lips. The anguish was severe as he clawed at his throat, urgently trying to remove the injurious material while his body attempted to cure itself.

The pain was excruciating, and he could feel blood on his hands and the ground under him. Each heave and retch was a battle against the agonizing agony that seemed destined to rend him apart. The familiar flavour of food became a source of agony rather than sustenance. Such nasty fuck!