Cultivator of the End: I Refine My Own Death-Chapter 113 – The Limbs That Betray

The storm came without warning.

Rin's breath caught as his body reacted before his mind could follow the familiar, bone-deep thrum of his Death Core. The air around him grew thick with the stench of decay, an ominous warning that something was horribly wrong. The last of the death essence he had absorbed from the battlefield still lingered in his system, seeping into his very bones, gnawing at his body's fragile boundaries. It was a hunger. A ravenous, undying hunger that gnawed at his sanity, clawing to break free.

Rin had made many sacrifices in his journey to refine death—to claim its essence as his own. But nothing had prepared him for this.

A violent, searing pain erupted from his right arm, his once-human limb now twisting, warping with an unnatural, unholy force. His bones cracked, flesh rippling in a grotesque manner as the arm seemed to reject him, to betray the very nature of his control. His fingers spasmed, jerking violently before curling into claws, sharp and brittle like the talons of a predator. He felt his arm, his own arm, turn against him as if it had become a separate entity—an abomination tied to the very forces of death that he had cultivated.

"Not this...!" Rin's voice cracked as he staggered backward, feeling the icy grip of dread coil in his gut. The limb lashed out of its own accord, striking with a ferocity that echoed the wild instincts of a beast. His own flesh rebelled against him, the undead nature of the death essence he had absorbed taking root in his very marrow. His arm, no longer truly his, was drawn to the pulsating hunger of death itself.

With an instinctual swipe, the arm reached for his throat, the fingers of the corrupted limb elongating, claws scraping toward his jugular. Rin's eyes widened in horror as his own body sought to take his life—this was no simple loss of control. This was betrayal.

He gritted his teeth, forcing his Death Core to stabilize, to burn away the chaos swirling within his veins. His arm recoiled for a moment, as though uncertain, before it attacked again—more violently this time, crashing toward his face with blinding speed.

There was no room for hesitation. Rin slammed his left hand into the arm, using every ounce of his strength to wrench it back, but the undead limb was too strong. It fought him, resisting his will, driven by the same insatiable hunger that had twisted its form. The once-living flesh had been consumed by death and had become something beyond the natural order.

His breath came in ragged gasps. The world around him swam in a haze of growing panic. His Death Core pulsed erratically, struggling to contain the erratic surge of energy. If he didn't regain control now, he would lose himself to the very essence he had mastered.

There was a price for every breakthrough, a cost for every advancement. And this... this was the consequence of seeking to refine death.

The world tilted as Rin fell to one knee, his arm still struggling against him. Desperation clawed at his heart. With a surge of will, he forced the power of the Death Core into his arm, a violent rush of necrotic energy that flooded his veins. The corrupted limb shuddered for a moment before lashing outward once again, but this time, Rin was prepared. With a scream of pain, he slammed his other hand onto the arm, pushing it down to the ground.

The earth cracked beneath the force, but Rin's focus was singular, locked onto the limb that had once served him faithfully. He could feel it now—feel the pulse of death, the hunger that surged within it, tugging at the remnants of his own flesh. It was no longer simply a part of him; it had become an independent creature—an extension of the death he had wielded, and now, it sought to claim him.

His lips moved in silent incantations, his voice barely more than a whisper as he invoked the ritual he had read about in the forbidden texts—the one that would allow him to bind this decaying flesh to his will. His mind was a blur of pain, but there was no turning back. He was too far gone, and this was his only option. freewebnøvel.com

The chains of his will, woven with the death essence of the land, snapped into place around the rebellious arm. It recoiled in resistance, but Rin held it firm, focusing on the intricate, gnawing ritual of reclaiming that which had slipped from his control. His fingers traced the air as he carved the runes of necrosis into his own flesh—ancient symbols of binding, drawn from the blackened pages of texts long forbidden. The symbols burned as they etched themselves into his skin, the pain enough to make his vision blur, but Rin endured.

With each stroke, his arm trembled, a low, vibrating hum filling the air as the runes began to take root. The death energy surged beneath his skin, attempting to escape the chains of his will, but Rin's focus was unyielding.

The necrotic symbols glowed with a faint greenish hue, flickering like dying embers, and the oppressive weight of the death aura began to subside. For the first time since the corruption had taken hold, Rin felt his arm stilled—locked into place, the rebellious muscle and bone no longer seeking to end his life.

His breath came slow, ragged, as the pain from the ritual settled deep within his bones. His right arm, once twisted by the force of death, had been reclaimed—bound to him once again by the ritual of necrotic reclamation.

But the victory came at a cost.

The wound from the ritual still burned like fire beneath his flesh, the symbols of necrosis engraved deep into his skin. And though his arm had been tamed, Rin knew this was only the beginning. The power that had flowed through him—through the death essence that had corrupted his very being—had not been fully subdued. His body had resisted the influx, rejecting the very essence he sought to control. That resistance would linger, pushing against him, clawing at the walls of his being.

And yet, in this moment of searing agony, something shifted within him.

The death essence was no longer simply something he consumed; it had become a part of him. His arm, now chained by the necrotic runes, was no longer just a tool—it was a vessel, an extension of his will. The undead flesh was bound to his power, the first step toward mastering the decayed and the dead. The death that had nearly consumed him had, paradoxically, become his greatest strength.

"Refined Reclamation," he whispered, feeling the phrase vibrate within his chest. This was the next stage of his cultivation, the stage that would bind his body to the very concept of death itself.

And with it, Rin felt the flicker of his first breakthrough.

A pulse shot through his chest, deep within his core, as if the very foundations of his being had been shaken. He felt his muscles strain, his bones creak, but beneath that overwhelming weight, there was something else—something new, something stronger. It was subtle at first, but undeniable. The Death Core, still thrumming with energy, had found a rhythm in the chaos, a harmony in the breakdown. The first layer of his body had been transformed.

The 1st Layer of the Death-Rooted Body.

Rin's hand, still trembling, pressed against the ground as he steadied himself. He could feel the energy surging within him, twisting and shaping his form in ways that defied the natural order. His flesh had been reborn, refashioned into something more than human—more than mortal. His body now held within it the duality of death and life, bound together by the intricate, painful rituals he had performed.

The ritual had been a success, but Rin knew that this was only the beginning. To refine his body through death, to make it a vessel for the power of decay, would require more than mere sacrifice—it would demand everything. His body, like his mind, was being remade, shaped into something entirely new. And though it burned like fire, Rin welcomed the transformation.

The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear—he was no longer the same person who had walked this earth before.

As the pain ebbed, Rin stood slowly, his right arm now steady at his side, its rebellious nature subdued. His gaze drifted to the horizon, where the storm clouds still lingered, but there was no fear in his heart. Only resolve.

The road ahead was paved with decay and death, but Rin was ready to walk it.

To be continued...