Chapter 88 – The Ring of Bloodlust
"Do I know how to use a bow?"
Of course not. In reality, I’d never even held a real bow before, let alone shot one. The closest I’d come was playing with slingshots as a kid or handling firearms during my military service.
Yet, when Dorneth asked, I confidently nodded and took up a proper archery stance.
Even if I didn’t know, this assassin’s body would remember.
The bow’s smooth grip fit perfectly in my hand.
The body of the bow gleamed with a subtle, silken shine, like freshly fallen snow. Its elegant curves radiated an aura of sacredness, as if it were a divine artifact.
‘Huh? Wait… there’s no bowstring?’
Just as I noticed the absence of a string, a strong suction suddenly emanated from the bow’s body, and a sharp pain shot through my palm.
What the…?
It felt like something was latching onto me, draining me, as if a leech had latched onto my very soul.
“…Shit.”
And it was true.
The arm holding the bow began to turn a dark crimson, drying out and shriveling like a mummy’s limb. At the same time, a thin, blood-red bowstring materialized along the bow’s frame.
A crimson thread.
It looked as though the string had been woven from my own blood.
Sacred? My ass. This bow was no divine artifact—it was a cunning trickster in disguise.
As I stood there stunned, Fenry let out a burst of laughter.
“Wow, you really picked one that matches you.”
“…What?”
“You know, you’re great at sticking straws into people and sucking them dry. Like owner, like weapon.”
What the hell is she talking about?
My first target to test this bow was obvious now. Ignoring her mocking laughter, I pulled back on the blood-red string.
Wuuung—!
A crimson arrow began to form between the bowstring and the body.
At least I didn’t need to worry about carrying a quiver of arrows. That was one thing I confirmed immediately.
I was just about to fire at Fenry’s head when I noticed something peculiar about the arrow.
Wait a second...
‘Is that… an enchantment?’
As I slowly infused the arrow with my divine energy, the crimson hue began to shift.
The blood-red glow softened into a radiant gold, transforming into a golden arrow.
By the time the arrow was fully formed and ready to fire, Dorneth wore a faintly surprised expression.
“Attribute infusion? That’s a new one.”
“What’s this bow’s ability, anyway?” Fenry asked, curiosity piqued.
“It’s an attribute-draining bow,” Dorneth explained.
He went on to clarify: this bow, aptly named The Ring of Bloodlust, drains the wielder’s blood to create arrows imbued with their inherent attributes.
Draining my blood, huh?
Yep. This was clearly another one of those “zero consideration for the user” types of weapons.
Who the hell came up with this design?
Apparently, one of the past dwarven masters was quite the eccentric.
“The arrow’s power depends on how much blood it absorbs,” Dorneth continued. “But there’s a minimum amount it requires for activation. At minimum, it’s equivalent to a mana bullet.”
“The minimum power is a mana bullet? Not bad.”
“Well, sure—if you can keep shooting.”
For a human, he added, firing just three or four arrows would be enough to induce severe anemia. And once that happened, proper combat would be impossible. You can’t swing a sword properly when you’re so dizzy you can’t even stand straight.
In other words, it’s a weapon you have to use sparingly. Three or four shots wouldn’t even be enough to take down a 2-star enemy.
Its cost-efficiency was practically garbage—on par with a ridiculously high-maintenance diva.
“This thing’s a total rip-off,” I muttered.
“No,” Fenry chimed in. “It’s just trash. A dud, plain and simple.”
“Looks pretty, though,” I offered.
“Looks are the trap,” Dorneth interjected. “It’s like a treasure chest that looks beautiful on the outside, but inside? Completely empty. Hell, sometimes the chest itself is worth more than what’s inside.”
“So... I picked a loser weapon, huh?”
“Completely,” Fenry snorted.
“...Whatever.”
The two of them continued to mock me from either side, gleefully tearing down my choice. But their words barely registered.
Was I disheartened? No, far from it.
While they saw a useless dud, I saw potential. Calculating its abilities, I realized this bow might actually be a hidden gem, especially in my hands.
‘If I use it right, this thing could be amazing.’
The arm that had been drained of blood was already regaining its color.
Thanks to the Heart of Retonicals, my body’s recovery rate far outpaced the bow’s rate of blood drain.
If the bow’s power scaled with the amount of blood it drained…
‘That means I can unleash its maximum output with every first shot.’
The Ring of Bloodlust drew on my blood, but thanks to my zombie-like regeneration, I could sustain its use indefinitely.
The bow also had excellent synergy with my abilities as an enchanter. Even a simple piercing enchantment on the arrows would drastically multiply their base power.
More importantly, though,
‘I can hide my divine arrows with this.’
One of my core abilities as the Hunter of Divinity was the Arrow of Divinity.
If I integrated my divine arrows with this bow, my enemies would have a hard time distinguishing between my innate abilities and the weapon’s powers.
In other words, I could mask my true capabilities.
What looked like a bad pick to them was actually the perfect weapon for me.
“What’s the name of this bow?” I asked.
“The Ring of Bloodlust,” Dorneth replied.
“The Ring of Bloodlust? Why call a bow a ‘ring’—”
“Let go of the bow.”
I released my grip as instructed, and the bow began to hover momentarily before compressing into the form of a bracelet.
A plain white bracelet, unadorned and seamless.
I slipped it onto my left wrist, where it fit snugly, almost as though it had always belonged there.
“Well? How do you feel now?” Dorneth asked, smirking.
“Can I ask one thing?”
“No, you can’t exchange it.”
“Wow, you’re quick.”
“When you hang around that cat long enough, you develop a sixth sense for bullshit. She’s hit me on the back of the head too many times for me to miss the signs.”
“Well, you’ve made your point clear. I suppose I’ll have to make do.”
“You don’t look too disappointed, though.”
Disappointed?
Not even close. I was thrilled with this choice.
But Fenry was still watching, so I masked my emotions, acting as though I’d reluctantly settled.
Sighing, I crouched in front of the glass dwarf sculpture, feigning defeat.
“Well, I’ll just have to redeem myself next time,” I said.
“You say that like you’re guaranteed another shot,” Dorneth retorted. “Don’t forget: you’ll be gambling with your life.”
“I’ve made my peace with that.”
“You think you can break the curse on the mine?”
“Yes. I’m confident.”
Confident? Not really.
I’d come to understand just how vast the gap between fiction and reality was.
Knowing something and putting it into practice were worlds apart.
Which was why I needed insurance.
And that insurance came in the form of Fenry Chaser, my wildcard.
My display of confidence wasn’t just for Dorneth—it was also aimed at her.
Time to cast the bait.
I turned toward Fenry, steeling my expression before pointing to the ruby-encrusted belt.
“When I earn another golden plaque, that ruby belt will be mine.”
Her face immediately soured.
It wasn’t even hers, yet she looked like a kid whose candy had just been stolen.
Typical greed.
“You even know what that belt is?” she snapped.
“Can’t you hear it? It’s calling me. Like a soulmate.”
“…You lunatic.”
Her words dripped with venom, but her expression betrayed her frustration.
Of course it would.
“Soulmate.”
That was a phrase Fenry herself had used to describe the belt after she acquired it in the original timeline.
She was probably feeling the same sense of loss as when I’d claimed the Dark Rose. And I had to admit, I was enjoying her frustration.
‘She can’t have it yet anyway,’ I thought.
Even if I took the belt now, it wouldn’t be a permanent loss for her. It wasn’t something she’d use until much later, so I might as well claim it to bolster my current capabilities.
***
With the Ring of Bloodlust secured, our business in the Blacksmith’s Garden was finished.
It was time to head toward the heart of the abandoned mine.
When I asked Dorneth about the mine’s location, he pointed directly below us.
“…It’s under here?”
Wait, they built the Blacksmith’s Garden on top of the mine?
“Is there no proper entrance?”
“You didn’t notice the collapsed walls? The mine’s original entrance has long been sealed off.”
“You completely blocked it?”
“We couldn’t risk letting the curse leak out.”
Curse or not, if anything escaped, it would bring ruin to Beneta. That much was clear.
Dorneth led us to a patch of faintly glowing flowers on one side of the Garden.
The flowers, crafted from glass, shimmered like delicate jewels. Among them, Dorneth carefully selected a single black flower and gently pulled it free.
The ground trembled, and the spot he had pointed to earlier began to sink.
Grind-grind-grind—!
No staircase revealed itself this time—just a dark, gaping hole.
The opening was barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through.
Dorneth retrieved a thick rope from somewhere and dropped it down the hole.
The rope seemed to stretch endlessly into the void, giving the impression that the mine’s depths were unimaginably far below.
After securing the rope around his waist, Dorneth turned to us and spoke gravely.
“The moment you descend, the rope will be withdrawn. The entrance will close behind you.”
“This is the only way in and out?” I asked.
“The only way,” he confirmed.
“How will I signal when I’m ready to leave?”
“You’ll have to time it perfectly.”
Dorneth handed me a small pouch.