SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Trafalgar's gaze stayed fixed on the shimmer ahead — the air itself twisting, warping, bleeding into an open wound in reality. The sound was low, like a growl muffled underwater, and yet… familiar.

'This isn't the first time I've seen one,' he thought grimly, his jaw tightening. The memory surfaced — the collapsed mine, the suffocating dark, and that voice. The Veiled Woman. The way her presence tore the air apart and filled the cavern with endless openings.

He could almost hear her whisper again — soft, feminine, and heavy with something he still couldn't name. 'Your destiny is written.'

'It's been a while since that woman crossed my mind… if she even was a woman. That voice— it had weight. Command. And the number of Rifts that appeared that day wasn't normal. Dozens… no, maybe hundreds. But I didn't stop to count.'

The hum in the clearing deepened, pulling him back to the present. The Rift pulsed once more, its edges splitting wider, letting a pale arm crawl through.

Something slapped against his shoulder — hard.

"Traf!" Garrika snapped, her tone sharp. "Don't drift off now. It's dangerous — stay focused!"

He blinked, the haze of memory breaking. "Yeah," he muttered. "You're right."

Ahead, the first creature dragged itself free — tall, slick-skinned, faceless. Then another followed, and another, each one slithering out of the Rift like a nightmare come alive.

Sylven drew his bow, eyes scanning the treeline. "They're multiplying fast."

Trafalgar's hand rose, and Maledicta materialized with a flicker of black steel. "Then we end it fast."

The Rift pulsed again, and the forest filled with that unnatural vibration. Garrika crouched low beside him, claws gleaming.

The ground quaked as the first line of Void Creatures rushed forward. Garrika met them head-on, claws slashing through flesh that wasn't quite solid. Each hit tore black ichor that evaporated before reaching the ground.

Trafalgar moved beside her, Maledicta humming with restrained violence. He sidestepped a lunge and countered with a perfect cut, the dark steel slicing cleanly through a creature's torso. The halves dissolved, leaving only faint trails of smoke.

Sylven's arrows struck from behind, each one glowing faintly as they pierced through the swarm. "[Spirit Mark]," he murmured, tagging two of the faster ones. "They're trying to circle right!"

"I've got them!" Garrika leapt forward, her body twisting midair as her claws caught both targets in one sweeping arc. The sound was wet and final.

Still, the Rift pulsed again — another wave spilled out, ten this time, larger and heavier. The air thickened with pressure, each step they took shaking the soil.

Trafalgar gritted his teeth, breath steadying. 'Less thinking, more moving.' He drew mana through his limbs, muscles burning as he vanished into a blur — [Severance Step]. He reappeared behind a creature, slashing upward in a wide arc. The head detached cleanly, and black smoke filled the air.

He could feel it — the gap between his Pulse Core and their Flow Rank bodies. Every clash left his arms vibrating, every kill costing more effort than it should. Still, he didn't stop.

"Keep going!" he shouted. "Don't let them group!"

Garrika responded with a guttural growl, slamming her heel into the ground and launching herself forward — [Lupine Rush]. The impact shattered a creature's spine.

By the time the last one fell, the three of them were drenched in sweat and ash.

Sylven wiped his forehead, breathing hard. "That's just the first wave."

Trafalgar exhaled sharply, blade still raised. "Yeah," he said, eyes fixed on the Rift that kept pulsing faintly. "And something tells me the next one's worse."

He clenched his jaw. 'Good. I need it to be.'

The clearing trembled again. The Rift pulsed wider, its edges writhing like veins under translucent skin. From the darkness, new shapes began to emerge — larger, sharper, more defined.

Trafalgar felt the pressure shift instantly. The air thickened, his instincts flaring. "Those aren't Flow rank anymore…" he muttered.

Sylven's eyes narrowed. "Prime."

Garrika's expression turned grim. "That's two whole cores above you, Traf."

"I noticed," he replied dryly, shifting his stance.

The first Prime-tier creature stepped out — a towering figure of warped anatomy. Its body gleamed like obsidian, arms tapering into jagged spikes that reformed and extended like liquid metal. Each movement left deep cuts across the ground, the air sizzling from pure mana density.

Garrika darted forward before it could strike. [Lupine Rush]. Her claws tore across its chest, but the wound sealed almost instantly. The creature's head tilted soundlessly — then its arm split open, forming a spear of bone-like matter that shot forward.

"Garrika!"

She dropped under it just in time, rolling as the projectile embedded into a tree with a blast. Bark exploded.

Trafalgar clenched his teeth and moved in — [Severance Step] — his body flickering behind one of the lesser Flow-tier voidlings. Maledicta cleaved through it in one clean strike. The moment it fell, a faint pulse ran through his chest.

'Riftborn Feast… works as promised.' He could feel it — the smallest surge of raw energy feeding into him, steady and cold. 'Barely a fraction of a percent… but multiply that by hundreds, and I'll see results.'

Another creature lunged from his right. He spun, meeting it mid-swing — [Arc Slash] — cutting through its torso. More ichor sprayed, and again, that faint pulse.

He didn't have time to enjoy it. The ground cracked — the Prime slammed its arm down, sending out a shockwave that split the soil like glass. Garrika barely managed to land beside him, breathing hard.

"These ones regenerate faster than we can hit them," she growled.

Sylven fired an arrow glowing bright white — [Spirit Mark] — tagging the Prime's chest. "Keep it marked! Its weak points shift each time it reforms!"

Trafalgar blocked another swing, the impact throwing him several steps back. His arms burned. 'If I didn't have Primordial Body, this would've shattered my bones…'

He spat dirt, glaring up at the towering silhouette. "This is getting ugly."

The Rift pulsed again. More figures crawled out — dozens now.

Trafalgar's chest rose and fell slowly. The air trembled with each pulse of the Rift, shadows crawling outward like veins across the soil. He could feel his mana stretching thin — every breath heavier than the last.

'Enough,' he thought, fingers tightening around Maledicta.

A quiet hum echoed through the clearing as he summoned the command in his mind. Dark mist rippled from his body, curling upward, forming layers — one after another.

Black plates of obsidian wrapped around his frame, fitting with impossible precision. The surface didn't shine; it devoured the light, swallowing every reflection around it. The plates shifted fluidly, locking into place with metallic whispers.

The helmet sealed last — a sharp, winged silhouette that curved backward like twin feathers carved from stone. The visor was narrow, almost predatory, with faint lines of gold tracing its edges.

When the last piece locked, Maledicta reacted instantly — its blade vibrating in resonance with the armor. A pulse of power spread through the ground, and for a heartbeat, everything stopped.

Garrika's eyes widened slightly. "Traf…" her voice came out low, almost reverent.

Sylven lowered his bow, a rare grin forming. "That's… bad ass. Tell me that's a Morgain item?"

Trafalgar didn't look at him. "Something like that," he replied evenly.

Garrika tilted her head, catching the hesitation in his tone. She knew it was a lie, but she didn't press. Instead, a small, knowing smile touched her lips. "You look good, Traf."

"Glad you think so," he said.

Then the change came. The Void Creatures, once restless and shrieking, froze in unison. Their heads twitched toward him, their bodies trembling with instinctive terror. Even the Prime-tier among them recoiled, its spear-like arms shivering mid-raise.

Sylven's grip tightened around his bow. "They're afraid of you," he murmured.

Trafalgar rolled his shoulders, the armor moving soundlessly — shadows clinging to its edges like smoke. "Good," he said quietly. "Let's use that."

The Rift pulsed again, but none of the creatures dared take the first step. The hunter had become the fear itself.

The forest had gone silent. Hundreds of Void Creatures stood frozen in terror — their eyeless faces twitching, claws hesitating mid-air. Even the Prime-tier ones, moments ago unstoppable, recoiled under the invisible weight pressing down from Trafalgar's presence.

He inhaled slowly. The sound of his armor echoed with the faint creak of obsidian shifting, and Maledicta pulsed once in his hand — alive, hungry.

'Perfect timing,' he thought.

In the next breath, he moved.

[Morgain's Requiem].

The first slash cut horizontally — a blur of black steel carving through the closest ranks. A crescent of shadow followed, slicing clean through six bodies at once. Their forms convulsed, dissolving into dark ichor before they could even fall.

The second strike came from below, an upward spiral that painted the air in a streak of violet-black arcs. Slash! The wave cleaved through another cluster, the ground rupturing under the pressure.

The third — a diagonal sweep that broke sound. Slash! Trees snapped in half as if cut by invisible blades, the shockwave pushing Garrika and Sylven back several steps.

The fourth came without pause, a full spin, his body moving like liquid shadow. Slash! Dozens of after-images followed, every one a mirrored execution of the same perfect cut. Blood mist scattered in rhythmic bursts, painting the clearing crimson.

The fifth strike — the finisher. Trafalgar drew in breath, stepped forward, and brought Maledicta down in a clean, vertical line. SLASH! The entire area detonated in a wave of compressed force. The final strike doubled in range, the black crescent expanding outward in a roaring storm of cutting wind and shadow.

Every Void Creature within reach disintegrated — shredded into drifting mist and fragments of bone-like glass.

Garrika could only stare. "Wow…" she whispered.

Sylven nodded faintly. "No argument here."

When the last echo faded, Trafalgar stood in the center of the destruction — steam rising from his armor, the ground around him carved into concentric circles of scarred earth. The Rift still pulsed in the distance, wounded but alive, its surface flickering violently as more shapes began to stir within.