Draven stopped before the suspended crystal.
He stood silently.
His crimson eyes calmly observed the countless sealing formations revolving around the Abyssal Core.
The chamber became deathly quiet.
Then—
his shadow rippled.
A small black head slowly emerged.
The cat peeked out first.
Still carrying the little slime gently in its mouth.
Its purple eyes stared curiously at the crystal.
Draven didn't even turn around.
"...Get back in."
A brief pause.
"...I ain't sharing."
The cat looked up at him.
"...Meow..."
Although it sounded slightly dissatisfied—
it obediently lowered itself back into the shadows.
The slime disappeared with it.
His shadow became still once more.
Silence returned.
Draven stepped closer.
He slowly raised both hands.
One sealing formation after another passed through his arms.
None of them reacted.
None attempted to stop him.
He reached the center.
His fingers wrapped firmly around the dark crimson crystal.
The chamber froze.
Every eye locked onto him.
Not a single person breathed.
Draven tightened his grip.
Then—
he pulled.
The surrounding sealing circles trembled violently.
Ancient runes flared.
Chains of mana stretched to their limit.
**CRACK...**
One seal shattered.
Then another.
Another.
Another.
The chamber shook violently.
**RUMBLE...**
The remaining seals strained desperately to hold.
But they could not stop him.
With one final pull—
the crystal tore free.
The last mana chain shattered.
The Abyssal Core left its prison.
For the first time in centuries—
it was no longer sealed.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
One of the cultists' eyes widened.
"...Idiot!"
"...You removed it from the seals!"
Another stared in disbelief.
"...I thought he said..."
"...he was going to absorb it."
Pythia frowned.
"...Silence."
Her voice cut through the chamber.
"...My Lord removed it..."
"...for that exact reason."
She looked calmly at the gathered cultists.
"...The seals..."
"...were merely an inconvenience."
No one answered.
Every gaze remained fixed upon Draven.
And the Abyssal Core...
Now resting within his hands.
---
Draven stood silently.
The Abyssal Core rested firmly in his grasp.
For a single moment—
nothing happened.
Then—
thin wisps of dark purplish-crimson mana slowly seeped from the crystal.
The atmosphere immediately grew heavier.
One of the cultists' eyes widened.
"...The mana..."
"...It's leaking."
Ryke instinctively stumbled several steps backward.
Cold sweat rolled down his forehead.
*...Damn.*
*I need to stay as far away from that thing as possible.*
Before anyone else could speak—
Aldric's gaze shifted toward the cultist.
His crimson eyes glowed faintly.
"...Shut up."
His voice was quiet.
Yet it carried an irresistible authority.
The cultist's body stiffened.
A flicker of resistance appeared in his eyes.
His lips trembled.
For a brief moment—
he struggled.
Then—
his expression became blank.
"...Yes."
Silence.
The surrounding cultists stared.
Several instinctively clenched their jaws.
None of them spoke.
Ryke looked from Aldric—
to the now motionless cultist.
*...Damn...*
*Hypnosis...*
*If he used that on me...*
*I wouldn't even be able to resist...*
*Not even a little.*
At the center of the chamber—
Abyssal mana continued pouring from the Core.
It spread through the air like living smoke.
Draven slowly released strands of his own mana.
They emerged from his body like countless black threads.
Flowing across his arms—
toward the crystal.
The instant the two types of mana came into contact—
the Abyssal mana erupted violently.
Like starving beasts—
it surged along the strands.
Corruption spread instantly.
Racing toward Draven.
Without the slightest hesitation—
he drew his mana back.
Along with it—
he dragged every strand of Abyssal mana that had latched onto it.
The corrupted mana entered his body.
His muscles immediately tensed.
Veins bulged across both arms.
Across his neck.
Across his face.
They darkened.
Swelled.
Then—
**POP!**
Several burst open.
Blood sprayed across his skin.
A heartbeat later—
the wounds regenerated.
Only to rupture again.
**POP!**
**POP!**
Again.
Again.
Again.
Draven's jaw slowly clenched.
Harder.
Harder.
Until—
**CRACK.**
Several teeth fractured beneath the force.
Blood began flowing from the corners of his mouth.
Then—
from his nose.
His ears.
His eyes.
Dark blood streamed down his face.
The veins across his body pulsed violently beneath his skin—
as if something inside him was trying to tear its way free.
Yet—
he never loosened his grip on the Abyssal Core.
Not even once.
Draven continued drawing the Abyssal mana into himself.
Not recklessly—
Deliberately.
Every strand that entered his body was immediately compressed.
Folded inward.
Again.
And again.
Forcing the violent mana into an ever-smaller space.
His body trembled.
**COUGH—!**
A mouthful of blood erupted from his lips.
Dark crimson droplets splattered across the ancient stone floor.
One of the cultists stared in horror.
"...H-He..."
"...He's really absorbing it..."
The masked elder's gaze never left Draven.
"...Yes."
His aged voice was low.
"...I can see it."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"...The Abyssal mana is truly entering his body."
A brief pause.
"...But it is destroying him from the inside."
Blood continued streaming down Draven's face.
Veins burst beneath his skin—
Only to regenerate an instant later.
The elder watched in silence.
"...His regeneration..."
"...is the only reason he remains alive."
At the center of the chamber—
Draven's crimson eyes never left the Abyssal Core.
His grip tightened.
**CRACK...**
A fracture spread across the crystal's surface.
Dark purplish-crimson mana burst from the crack like a raging flood.
Draven absorbed every trace of it.
His fingers dug deeper into the crystal.
**CRACK!**
Another fracture appeared.
Then another.
The pressure contained within the Core rapidly became unstable.
Draven tightened his grip once more.
**CRAAASH!!**
The Abyssal Core shattered.
Fragments scattered in every direction.
An overwhelming torrent of Abyssal mana erupted outward.
Before a single fragment could touch the ground—
Draven drew it all in.
Every trace of escaping mana rushed toward him.
His mouth slowly opened.
Without the slightest hesitation—
he grabbed several shattered fragments.
Then—
shoved them into his mouth.
He swallowed.
The chamber froze.
Everyone stared.
Ryke's face turned deathly pale.
"...Is..."
"...Is he insane...?"
Draven's eyes widened violently.
His entire body arched forward.
**COUGH—!!**
Blood exploded from his mouth.
His knees slammed into the stone floor.
**BOOM!**
The impact echoed throughout the chamber.
His body shook uncontrollably.
One arm instantly shot toward his mouth.
Clamping tightly over it.
Preventing even the smallest crystal fragment from being expelled.
At the same moment—
his other hand was already moving.
It swept across the floor.
Gathering every remaining shard of the shattered Core.
Without the slightest hesitation—
he forced them into his mouth as well.
One after another.
He swallowed every last fragment.
Blood poured continuously from beneath the hand covering his mouth.
Yet his grip never loosened.
Not a single piece...
Would be allowed to escape.
Draven remained kneeling.
His body was bent forward.
Both hands clamped tightly over his mouth.
Blood continued flowing relentlessly.
From his eyes.
His nose.
His ears.
It seeped between his fingers.
Ran down his forearms.
And dripped steadily onto the stone beneath him.
**Drip...**
**Drip...**
The chamber had fallen into complete silence.
The only sounds that remained—
Were his ragged breathing.
And the faint sound of him swallowing.
Again.
And again.
No one spoke.
Every eye remained fixed upon the blood-soaked figure.
His eyes were tightly shut.
Not by choice—
But because blood completely covered them.
Inside his body—
the Abyssal mana raged without restraint.
Draven forced it together.
Compressing it.
Folding it.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Without pause.
Without rest.
Time seemed to lose all meaning.
Then—
the violent fluctuations gradually settled.
Not because the mana had calmed—
But because the endless folding had resumed its relentless rhythm.
Once again—
it became constant.
Unceasing.
Draven slowly lowered his hands from his mouth.
They landed heavily upon the bloodstained stone.
**Tap.**
His breathing remained ragged.
Each inhale scraped painfully through his throat.
Blood still clung to his lips.
After a long silence—
a single word escaped them.
"...Fuck."
His voice was hoarse.
Barely louder than a whisper.
His shadow rippled.
The small black cat slowly climbed out.
Still carrying the little slime gently in its mouth.
It padded toward Draven without hesitation.
Stopping directly before him.
"...Meow."
The cat carefully set the slime down.
Then leaned forward.
Its tiny tongue gently licked the blood from Draven's cheek.
"...Meow..."
It rubbed its head softly against his face.
As though making sure he was still alive.
Then it looked down.
Its paw lightly tapped the little slime.
The slime gave a tiny wobble.
"...Pyu."
It bounced onto Draven's arm.
Its gelatinous body spread across his blood-covered skin.
Slowly.
Methodically.
It began absorbing the blood coating him.
Cleaning his arm.
Then inching steadily upward.
Leaving the skin beneath perfectly clean as it passed.
The chamber remained silent.
The cultists could do nothing but watch.
None of them had expected—
That after consuming an Abyssal Core...
The very first creatures to approach him...
Would be a tiny black cat...
And an equally tiny slime.