Raising My Trash Ability into a Broken SSS+ Rank Skill Chapter 7: Gulp

Vritra swung his blade at the encroaching goblin horde, desperate to parry or evade the onslaught, yet fresh gashes continuously opened across his skin.

As he pivoted toward a new foe, a goblin's entrails remained hooked on Vritra’s edge. He kicked the limp body aside and pushed forward, refusing to be encircled by the mob.

Klik- kik- kreeeeh

A beast lunged from the shadows. Intercepting it mid-flight, he slammed the creature into the dirt and used his heel to crush its throat.

His features were a mask of gore—frigid, detached, and radiating pure savagery.

Seeking to test his dust manipulation, Vritra’s right hand became a blur of steel. He mowed down goblins in rapid succession while his left hand worked to collapse windpipes or bat away incoming strikes.

Kiiiiik- kliiik- kreeeeeeeeh

Now wielding a jagged bone blade in his off-hand, he swung both weapons in a deadly rhythm, conjuring a thick, crimson haze of blood in the air.

[Activating Dust Convergence.]

Upon triggering the skill, a dense shroud of dust billowed around him, unlike anything he had summoned before. It effectively blinded every goblin within a twenty-meter radius.

Though the cloud obscured his own vision, sight and sound were no longer necessary. Within this domain, he could perceive every goblin's position through the vibration of the dust particles themselves.

The dust didn't just blind them; it choked the monsters as they inhaled the grit. Disoriented and gasping, the goblins stumbled through the haze. Vritra realized he could potentially concentrate the particles to block their airways directly, though he lacked the fine control to shape the dust into specific forms yet.

Nevertheless, it was a significant advancement.

Over twenty-four hours of relentless carnage within the Death Canopy had taken its toll. Vritra was plagued by agonizing hunger and thirst, his body racked with a deep exhaustion that even healing potions failed to alleviate.

His physical and mental reserves were spent, leaving his eyelids feeling like lead weights.

++++++++++++

[You have killed a Level 3 Goblin.]

[You have killed a Level 1 Goblin.]

[You have killed a Level 8 Goblin.]

[You have killed a Level 7 Goblin.]

...

[+EXP Earned.]

[You have Levelled Up!]

[You have Levelled Up!]

[You have Levelled Up!]

...

[All Stats Increased by 1.]

[All Stats Increased by 1.]

...

[ You have gained 1 Allocation Point.]

[ You have gained 1 Allocation Point.]

...

++++++++++++

As the minutes ticked by, his breath became increasingly labored.

SWOOSH SWOOSH

BANG!!

SccccrrrrrreeeeeeEEEEEEE

Starvation clawed at his stomach, and his throat felt like parched earth.

Yet, he did not falter.

He couldn't afford to stop; time was a resource he simply didn't possess.

While the dust cloud facilitated easier kills with fewer injuries, a more urgent crisis loomed. He needed sustenance immediately, or his muscles would eventually seize up from malnutrition. However, this desolate space offered neither food nor water.

This trap was designed to be a tomb for the unfortunate. The probability of finding nourishment was zero, leaving Vritra without a solution to his mounting frailty.

Hours merged into days. System notifications flickered incessantly, announcing kills and level-ups, but he lacked the luxury of a single glance. One lapse in concentration meant being torn apart by the swarm.

******

Vritra’s eyes were now deeply sunken. His attire had been reduced to blood-stained rags, and his skin was dyed a sickly green from the constant spray of goblin fluids.

He survived solely on healing potions, which kept him upright but could not satisfy his biological needs for water or calories.

Fortunately, his primary sword remained sturdy, refusing to chip despite the endless clashing against bone and hide.

His combat style grew increasingly feral. In a gruesome display of his enhanced strength, Vritra thrust his bare hand into a goblin’s torso and ripped out its guts.

A scout attempted to flank him.

Without hesitation, he spun around, seized the creature's jaw, and shattered its skull with a violent twist. Vritra remained unmoved as more blood splattered his face, his dark hair now matted and dripping with filth.

When a blade pierced his thigh, Vritra merely gnashed his teeth, refusing to cry out. He had become numb to the agony. In retaliation, he drove his fingers into the attacker's chest and tore its heart from its ribs.

His hands were slick with green ichor.

He discarded the organ without a look, already moving to the next target.

Despite the surge of adrenaline, his lack of sleep was becoming a fatal liability. Having not rested for days, he began taking more hits even with the protection of his dust cloud.

++++++++++++

[You have killed a Level 11 Goblin.]

[You have killed a Level 8 Goblin.]

[+EXP Earned.]

[You have Levelled Up!]

[All Stats Increased by 1.]

[ You have gained 1 Allocation Point.]

++++++++++++

The notifications blurred past, unread.

The numbers were staggering; the horde seemed infinite.

Howling in fury, the goblins trampled the mounds of their fallen brethren. The wall of corpses did nothing to slow their advance.

Vritra continued his grim trek, leaving a trail of carnage far behind his original position. Suddenly, a new prompt appeared, and he felt a sudden surge in the potency of his abilities, though he found no joy in it.

++++++++++++

[Your skill has Levelled Up]

[Dust Manipulation has advanced to Level 3.]

[Dust Convergence have now transformed into Dust Weaving.]

++++++++++++

Regardless of how many he butchered, the monsters grew stronger and more numerous. Yet, Vritra’s resolve held firm.

For now.

His blade moved with the speed of a lightning strike, bisecting multiple foes with every pass. His eyes, bloodshot and burning with a mix of fatigue and rage, struggled to track the world as his reflexes began to lag.

The bone shard he’d used had long since shattered. In its place, he wielded a longsword looted from a powerful elite he’d slain. He hadn't bothered to check its stats; he simply used it to fuel his frantic slaughter.

As he cut down half a dozen enemies, two massive figures charged through the mist. These goblins were twice the size of the others, their muscles bulging with a power that far exceeded Vritra’s current level.

Their speed was overwhelming. One behemoth lunged through the dust, swinging a heavy staff at Vritra’s skull. With barely a second to spare, Vritra crossed his twin blades in a desperate block.

BANG

The impact was catastrophic. His swords shattered instantly, and the force sent Vritra flying into a pile of rotting corpses. His arms throbbed with a sickening vibration, his bones hairline-fractured from the blow.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he tried to rise, but his eyes caught a shimmering message in the air.

++++++++++++

[You have survived for a total of three days and eleven hours twenty nine minutes.]

[Quest Progress: 26 days 12 hours 31 minutes remaining. (11.6%)]

++++++++++++

He had ignored the timer since the beginning, but seeing the actual progress shattered his spirit. Any hope of making it out alive evaporated.

'I've fought non-stop for days without rest or food... and I have to do this for a month?' A wave of pure despair washed over him. Surviving in this hellscape for thirty days without basic necessities was an impossibility.

The trap was perfect. It was designed to grind a person down until they broke. Each passing day brought stronger demons, culminating in an unstoppable tide at the end of the month.

Vritra finally understood true dread.

His lungs burned as panic seized his heart. His sanity, already frayed, began to crumble. Hunger became a physical weight, thirst a burning acid, and the lack of sleep a void consuming his mind.

He had nothing left—no plan, no strength. Only the grave.

The dust cloud—his only shield—began to dissipate as his concentration lapsed. His hands shook uncontrollably. The skill he relied on slipped away, and as his mind went blank, he accepted his fate.

The two giant goblins closed in, their scarred green skin glistening with filth. Their predatory grins widened, savoring the inevitable conclusion.

And for a fleeting second, Vritra agreed.

GrrrrrrrRRRRRRRR

But as the scent of their bloodlust hit him, something inside him didn't just snap—it ignited.

Despair was replaced by a primal, beastly fury.

Fear curdled into a concentrated, lethal hatred. His wild, bloodshot eyes locked onto the lead monster.

Driven by pure instinct, Vritra’s hand clamped onto the handle of a glowing warhammer dropped by a fallen foe. The weight was immense, but he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.

He exploded forward, the ground cracking under his boots. He became a blur of motion. Gripping the hammer with both hands, he swung with every ounce of his remaining life force. The weapon tore through the air and connected with the goblin’s head with a bone-chilling crunch.

The beast didn't fall.

Dazed, with blood streaming from its forehead, the creature caught the hammer on the backswing. With terrifying strength, it yanked the weapon away, its talons digging into Vritra’s forearms as it pulled him into its grasp to finish him.

And Vritra... bit!

He bit with everything he had!

Like a starving predator, he lunged and buried his teeth deep into the goblin's shoulder, his eyes hollow and devoid of any human reason.

SPLUTTER

Flesh tore away. Boiling blood sprayed his face.

The goblin shrieked in shock as Vritra ripped a hunk of meat from its body, keeping the raw flesh in his mouth. It was no longer about hunger; it was madness. The creature recoiled, howling in agony.

Thought was gone. Only the beast remained. At that moment, Vritra was no longer a man.

He clamped his jaws tighter, tearing another massive piece of raw muscle away.

GULP

________

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