Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 101: Trial Of Suppression Reversal (I)

Chapter 101: Trial Of Suppression Reversal (I)

Kael looked up, teeth bared, his vision swimming. The panther limped, blood pooling beneath it, but it was still alive, its eyes burning with feral rage. He forced himself to stand, his fingers trembling around Abyssal Fang, his body screaming in protest.

Then, from the mist, a second beast emerged.

[Dire Night Panther – Level 21]

Kael’s eyes narrowed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Oh, come on..."

He was barely clinging to life after the first. This second panther moved differently—cautious, its steps deliberate, its crimson eyes studying him with an intelligence that bordered on human. It wasn’t just a beast; it was a predator, assessing its prey with chilling precision.

Kael wiped the blood from his lip, crouching low, his blade steady despite the tremor in his arms. He had no strength left, no energy to spare, but he had one thing—his will, unyielding and fierce.

"Now’s as good a time as any," he muttered, his voice a defiant whisper.

A pulse surged from the rune on his chest, a spark of power igniting within him.

[DING! Passive Skill: Eldritch Reversal – ACTIVATED.

Strength +30%

Dexterity +30%

Mental Cognition +30%

Duration: 30 seconds]

The world shifted, colors deepening, movements slowing as if time itself bent to his will. His limbs, once sluggish, felt light as air, his senses sharpened to a razor’s edge.

Kael moved, a blur of speed and fury, his blade a streak of shadow as he slashed at the limping panther. Abyssal Fang struck like thunder, severing tendons and cutting deep into the flesh.

The beast howled, its thrashing futile as Kael rolled past, spun, and drove his sword straight into its eye socket.

A burst of light erupted, the panther collapsing in a heap.

Kael turned just as the second panther pounced, its claws gleaming. But this time, he was faster. He dashed left, the beast’s strike missing by a breath, the air hissing in its wake.

Using a shattered pillar as a springboard, he leaped upward, launching himself down like a meteor; Abyssal Fang aimed for the skull.

The panther twisted, but not fast enough. Steel met bone with a sickening crack, and the beast crashed to the ground, spasming once before going still.

Kael’s knees buckled, the Eldritch Reversal fading, its power draining from his body like water from a cracked vessel. He forced himself to stand, every muscle screaming, blood soaking his mantle, his chipped blade trembling in his grip. His breathing was shallow, his vision blurring, but he stood, defiant against the trial’s cruelty.

[DING! Phase One Cleared.

Next Phase Initiating in 60 seconds.]

Kael blinked, his heart sinking. "There’s more?" The words were a hoarse whisper, laced with exhaustion and grim realization. Of course, there was.

His gaze swept the chamber, catching the faint glow of six silver torches igniting along the walls, each marking a phase of the trial. Only one was lit—he’d just survived the first. Five more awaited, each likely more brutal than the last.

Kael slumped against a pillar, forcing himself to breathe, each inhale a battle against the suppression’s weight. "Five phases... all like that?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. The System offered no response, its silence a cold confirmation of the trial’s relentless nature.

The Trial of Suppression Reversal was a nightmare, designed to expose flaws not just in strength but in willpower, to break those who faltered under its crushing pressure.

Kael had passed the first phase—barely. The second would be worse, and he had no elixirs, no energy, and no way to reactivate Eldritch Reversal until the next battle.

He looked at his hands, steady despite the blood and pain. A weak smile curved his lips beneath the Shadow Veil Mask. "This trial’s insane," he whispered, a spark of defiance flickering in his silver eyes.

The mist at the chamber’s far end thickened, swirling with ominous intent. Shapes moved within it—larger, smarter, their presence heavier than the panthers. The light of the second torch flickered to life, casting long shadows across the stone.

Kael pushed himself upright, Abyssal Fang gleaming faintly in his grip. The beasts were coming, and he was still at Level 11, a Pre-Awakening Warrior pitted against forces that could crush him with a single misstep. But he was Kael, and he would not break.

The trial was a crucible, and he would emerge forged—or not at all.

Kael stood in the stillness, his breath a ragged whisper in the oppressive silence of the chamber. The second torch burned with a cold silver glow along the stone wall, its light casting long, jagged shadows that danced like specters across the blood-streaked floor.

The aftermath of his battle with the Shadowed Panthers lingered in the air—a metallic tang of blood, the faint acrid scent of scorched stone, and a tension that pulsed like a heartbeat.

The mist, ever-present in this cursed pagoda, thickened once more, coiling through the chamber like smoke trapped in a windless void. It rolled in from the far side, heavy and deliberate, each tendril curling with a purpose that set Kael’s nerves on edge.

His fingers curled tighter around Abyssal Fang, the dagger’s familiar weight grounding him against the rising tide of unease. Its dark edge glinted faintly in the torchlight, chipped and worn from countless battles, yet still sharp enough to carve through flesh and bone.

No system ping broke the silence, no warning heralded the next trial—just the sound of footsteps, deliberate and measured, echoing from the mist.

Not the heavy tread of beasts. Not the skittering claws of constructs. Feet. Human, yet wrong, their rhythm too precise, too unnatural.

Kael’s breath slowed, each exhale dragging heat from his lungs, leaving a chill in its wake. His silver eyes narrowed, piercing the haze as two shapes emerged.

They were lean and tall, humanoid in form, but something about them was profoundly off. Their joints moved with an unnatural fluidity, arms too long, swaying like branches in a storm.

Their faces were pale and smooth, mouths stretched too wide in grotesque, silent grins, eyes empty like the hollow sockets of broken dolls. The torchlight reflected off their pallid skin, giving them an almost spectral glow.

[Shadowed Husk – Level 21 – Possessed Cultivator Corpse]

Kael’s grip tightened, his mind racing. These weren’t beasts or constructs—they were the desecrated remains of cultivators, their bodies twisted into puppets by some malevolent curse woven into the pagoda’s trials.

Yet their movements were terrifyingly coordinated, each step a silent promise of death. The first husk lunged without warning, its blade flashing in the dim light, its steps so smooth they seemed to glide across the stone.

Kael ducked low, rolling forward as the sword scraped past his shoulder, the blade’s edge biting into his flesh. Pain flared—a shallow cut, but sharp enough to sting, a reminder of his mortality.

He gritted his teeth, pivoting just in time to face the second husk, its glaive swinging in a jagged arc.

Kael twisted, the polearm’s edge grazing his side, and slammed the hilt of Abyssal Fang against the husk’s exposed ribs with a dull thud.

It didn’t flinch. Didn’t grunt. Didn’t bleed.

The husk staggered, its body resetting with an eerie click, its head turning toward Kael like a marionette realigned by invisible strings.

A chill ran down his spine. "Yeah, that’s not creepy at all..." he muttered, his voice low, tinged with grim humor to mask the unease coiling in his gut.

There was no time to recover. The first husk surged forward again, its blade a blur in the torchlight. Kael parried, sparks flying as steel met steel, but the force behind the strike drove him back, his heel catching on loose rubble. He shifted, too slow—the glaive hissed through the air, its jagged edge aiming for his throat.

Kael dropped to the ground, the polearm slicing a few strands of his hair, and kicked upward, catching the second husk’s legs and sending it stumbling.

Seizing the moment, he lunged, plunging Abyssal Fang into the husk’s chest with a wet crunch. The blade sank deep, but there was no scream, no system alert—just the husk’s lifeless eyes glaring at him as it gripped the dagger, pulling it deeper into its body, its mouth stretching wider in a grotesque mockery of a smile.

Kael cursed under his breath, wrenching Abyssal Fang free with a twist, spinning just in time to block another strike from the swordsman husk.

The blow numbed his arm, the force reverberating through his bones. "These things aren’t just corpses," he growled, his breath ragged. "They’re reinforced—cursed and rebuilt."

Each husk fought with a distinct style, their movements a twisted echo of the cultivators they once were. The first was a swordsman, its strikes precise and calculated; each slashes a lesson in lethal efficiency.

The second wielded its glaive with brutal power, its long reach and sudden bursts of strength forcing Kael to stay on the defensive.

Caught between them, he was a lone flame flickering in a storm, his body aching, his energy drained, and Eldritch Reversal still on cooldown, its absence a heavy weight on his dwindling options.

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