NOVEL'S EXTRA: I Will Die at the Peak-Chapter 33: Ravien’s Experiment Logs (END)

Ravien took the papers and examined them carefully for a few minutes. His eyes moved line by line, occasionally flipping through the pages, scanning every detail.

"Everything seems to be in order."

Then he handed the papers to Jiho.

"Take these to my study. I still have work to do here."

Jiho nodded slightly as he accepted the papers. His movements were still controlled, but the exhaustion on his face was unmistakable. He turned silently, his steps cautious but resolute. Just as he headed toward the door, Ravien's voice stopped him again.

"By the way, Jiho..."

His voice was calmer this time.

"You can throw out all the trash... or anything else that's no longer useful... anywhere in this dungeon."

Jiho's brows furrowed slightly. There was a short pause. He didn't look back over his shoulder, but his slowed steps gave him away.

There were many questions in his mind—Why here? Why now?—but he asked none of them. He only gave a slight nod and walked away in silence.

The metallic creak of the dungeon door broke through the stillness for a brief moment. Then, everything returned to its earlier silence.

Ravien turned his head again only after Jiho's footsteps had completely faded. His gaze slowly shifted to the cage at the center of the dungeon.

And to what was inside it.

Ravien's eyes scanned the creature in the cage once more, from head to toe.

Looking at it was like gazing at a painting—a painting he had created himself.

The creature was a towering mass, nearly three meters tall, but its proportions were all wrong. Its body looked like a collage of different beings forced together. As if different laws of nature had been crudely stitched into one form.

Its left leg had long since ceased to resemble a human limb. In its place was a massive centipede structure, thick and segmented. A hard exoskeleton covered it, and from each segment jutted small but razor-sharp legs that gripped the ground. As it moved, it scraped against the stone floor, producing a wet, grinding noise.

At the heel of the centipede leg was a round, slimy mouth—constantly sucking, sometimes swallowing with a soft gulp. Where its toes should have been, five eyes were irregularly spaced, twitching constantly, their agitated gazes scanning the world outside.

The right leg was more familiar, but still abnormal. It split at the knee into two separate limbs. Muscular, strong—but their movements weren't synchronized. One stepped forward while the other supported, then they switched roles.

Its abdomen was round and fleshy. Loose skin sagged, and from underneath it, thin worm-like tendrils extended. They squirmed continuously, dozens of fleshy appendages ending in small mouths that reached out aimlessly.

In place of the right arm, a flower had bloomed—but not one born of nature. Crimson petals burst forth from torn flesh, with purple veins pulsating within. At its center was a round, moist mouth. It made no sound, but it looked tense, as if it could snap shut at any moment.

The left arm remained intact. Thick, muscular, with long fingers. Its movements were deliberate; from time to time, it reached for chunks of meat on the ground and fed them to one of the mouths.

Its face was asymmetrical. Eight eyes scattered across it—on the forehead, the cheeks, even near the neck.

They all looked in different directions, twitching from time to time.

There were two mouths; one stretched from the chin to the cheek, the other ran vertically from the forehead down. They opened and closed without rhythm, oozing fluid and releasing a suffocating stench.

(POV Ravien)

I took a deep breath. The stench of the dungeon filled my nose.

I don't even notice it anymore—I've either gotten used to it or developed an immunity.

My gaze shifted to the cage.

The creature inside... I still want to call it "Fauriel," but that name no longer holds any meaning.

In most of my records, it's listed as "Waste Eater."

That label isn't symbolic—it's functional. It can now systematically consume and process organic waste.

I took a few steps closer to the cage.

Its eyes turned toward me.

Both of its mouths moved at the same time, but the sound it produced was muffled:

"Agugaugu."

It's trying to form words, but still can't say anything meaningful.

Its intelligence is operating on a primitive, fragmented level.

Although its capacity for learning is limited, there's clearly some level of awareness.

In previous tests, I observed it responding conditionally to certain commands I gave.

But this consciousness isn't entirely new.

In fact... fragments of its old mind still live inside.

I didn't kill the real Fauriel.

I never touched his brain.

I even took special precautions to prevent parasites from reaching his neural tissues.

His mind is still intact.

He can think.

He can see.

He can hear.

But he can't control any of it.

His muscles, his breathing, digestion—everything is biologically overridden.

He's just... inside—watching.

And feeling.

He senses how the parasites reshape his body every second.

He feels the centipede-jaws on his heel open and close as he walks.

The twitching of the eyes on his shoulder...

The brushing of the tendrils spilling from his abdomen...

He perceives it all.

But he can resist none of it.

This isn't torture.

But it's not peace, either.

I didn't do this to punish him.

Not so he would suffer—but so that he couldn't escape.

Because for Fauriel, death would be a release.

And I won't grant him that luxury.

I will keep him trapped inside this body forever.

He will exist only as a mind.

Unable to influence the outside world, yet forever thinking, feeling, understanding.

And never able to bring it to an end.

I opened my right hand.

When I first used this ability, I thought I could only control flesh, blood, and bone.

Rearranging muscles, repairing tissue, reshaping broken bones...

All of it was possible.

But it all felt like that was the limit.

As time went on, I realized—this was far more than I had imagined.

No matter how far I push myself, I can't seem to find the limit of my abilities.

Anything biologically possible...

If there's a foundation for it in a living being, and if I can focus enough, I can make it real:

Creating a new tissue, building an organ from nothing, accelerating an organism's development...

Or even designing an entirely new species.

It's all possible—

As long as my capacity can sustain it.

At this point, I can no longer call this power just "flesh, blood, and bone."

Those terms are no longer sufficient.

This is something far beyond them.

And so, I had to name it.

Give it a definition.

From the right place, in the right way.

From now on, I will call this ability: Biological Sovereign.

Because this isn't just control.

It's the power to decide how life itself functions.

To direct the form and logic of organic existence.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Not just living creatures, but the very concept of life—

I can reshape it.

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("A total of 47 experiments were conducted on Fauriel.")

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Knowledge Time

I've realized something I may have left unclear.

In Chapter 32, Jiho might have seemed weak to some of you.

But he's not as fragile as he appears.

He simply never considers resisting Ravien.

No matter how oppressive Ravien's presence is, Jiho never tries to escape it.

Because he doesn't want to.

But that doesn't mean he's powerless.

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Second Note: What Is Capacity?

For those who haven't read the Support section, here's a brief explanation of Capacity:

Think of capacity like a bucket.

The water inside represents the amount of power someone can use.

Increasing capacity = making the bucket bigger.

A bigger bucket holds more water—meaning more power.

But it also takes longer to fill.

However, once it's full, it lasts much longer.

The "water" inside is also part of capacity—but I'll talk more about that later.