Just like the first time, Leo focused on Thorn. Whenever he did this, it was as if the blade spoke directly to him—feeding him knowledge, detailing its abilities, and revealing how much it had changed. He didn't need to guess; the sword wanted him to know.
The first ability, Blood Absorption, was still present, but its capacity had increased. It could now absorb much more blood at once. The healing effect remained the same, and the Frenzy Mode was still there—though more stable now, less wild.
The second ability, Blood Slash, felt more potent. Though the sword didn't explicitly say so, Leo could tell from the concentrated flow of mana that the attack's raw cutting power had increased. It would be sharper, faster, deadlier.
The third ability—Blood Explosion—was where the changes became dramatic. The blood reservoir had expanded significantly. The explosion could now be triggered faster, and when fully charged, the detonation would be devastating. Enough to level a battlefield—if used recklessly.
But two entirely new features had emerged.
The first was a new ability called Blood Aura. When activated, it formed a shimmering, crimson barrier around Leo's body. It could block or dampen magical attacks, shielding him from enchantments, curses, and mana based spells. However, it did little against physical force—blades and arrows could still pass through.
The second change was cosmetic—but it made the sword feel more alive. The circular golden frame near the base of the blade now bore intricate, spiraling markings. When Leo gripped the hilt, those markings glowed with a deep red light—like veins pulsing with blood.
After absorbing all this, Leo let go of the hilt. The sword responded instantly, floating back to its resting place like it understood the moment had passed.
Leo leaned back on his throne. He was excited—not just about Thorn's new power, but about the possibilities it opened.
He had been planning to fuse his Magic Force spell—pure, raw mana—into Blood Slash to create a new, more destructive technique. Now, with the blade's enhanced power, that hybrid spell might become something far beyond his original expectations.
Aside from combat, he still had other objectives, he needed a way to move items between his domain and the real world, using the Mirror as a bridge. If he could solve that, it would be a major breakthrough in convenience and strategy.
He also wondered about something he hadn't seen confirmed anywhere—whether it was possible to be inside his domain and in the real world at the same time. He had no idea if such a thing could even exist, but if it was, it would be incredibly useful. The concept lingered in the back of his mind, half-formed. Maybe, if it was possible, that book would have something about it. With time on his side, Leo reached for the book and, without hesitation, he opened it and returned to reading—searching for clues, answers, and the next step forward.
The second chapter was called Words Beyond. Leo sat cross-legged on his throne. The old book rested in his lap, its pages slightly curled with age, the scent of ink and parchment rising as he turned the page. This chapter, he quickly realized, wasn't just theory—it was a guide. A map to the beginning of something vast.
It began simply.
The chapter explained the first step in creating a Domain. As stated earlier, a Domain wasn't just a magical structure or space—it was a reflection of the person's soul, projected into a higher layer of existence. This higher plane, beyond the physical world, was where Ethereon existed.
When a person's level rises, their mana increases as well. But it's not mana alone that allows one to reach this higher plane. It's the shape of the soul—how refined, how clearly defined that inner essence has become. Both soul and mana must be in alignment.
As the soul shapes itself with clarity and intent, it begins to resonate with the deeper laws that govern reality. That resonance draws it closer to Ethereon. And once close enough—if the connection is strong enough—the soul can begin to shape a Domain.
But a Domain isn't merely imagination made real. It's a fusion. A blend of the person's vision and the nature of their soul. And because the soul touches the laws of the world, the Domain becomes influenced by those laws as well. The result is something partly self-created, and partly forged by the cosmic forces surrounding it.
Leo leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on one hand.
"So that's why my Domain changes so much on its own," he muttered to himself. "It's not just me controlling it—it's a reflection of who I am… and what I'm becoming."
He turned the page. The book warned of two dangers that come with advancing too quickly.
The first danger is that if someone attempts to force a Domain into existence before their soul is stable, the laws themselves may rise against them. The soul, too fragile to endure the pressure, will fracture—and be swept away.
The second danger is by ascending carelessly in this realm, one may draw the attention of powerful entities already dwelling there. These beings are ancient, alien in thought, and not bound by human morals or logic. Some might help. Others… might not.
The second warning was brief, almost a footnote. But the first was explored in more detail.
The laws of reality, the book explained, are not fixed like stones. They move. They flow—endlessly, invisibly—like colossal rivers of energy that shape the world from behind the veil of perception. Trying to expose your soul to these currents without preparation is like stepping into a flood with no anchor.
If the soul isn't strong enough, it will be swept away—its essence unraveling, its identity lost. That person wouldn't just die. They would cease to exist in every sense. Nothing would remain of them but fragments, scattered and absorbed into the fabric of the world.
The book didn't soften the warning. It was blunt, brutal and necessary.
Leo drew in a breath and kept reading.
Eventually, he reached the part he was looking for—the first actionable step to create a Domain.
There were two possible methods.
The first was Guidance. A person could be led into this higher realm with the help of a powerful being who already had access to that plane. With protection and supervision, the journey would be safer and easier. But such beings were rare, and not always willing.
The second method was Solitary Ascent—a path that relied solely on the individual's own strength, clarity, and discipline. It was far more dangerous—but if successful, it promised deeper understanding and greater control.
To begin this second path, the book advised complete focus. The practitioner must unify every part of their awareness—mind, body, soul, and mana—all directed inward. There must be no distractions. Only presence.
Then came the search for resonance.
Each person, the book said, follows a unique cultivation path, aligned with their deepest nature—be it fire, shadow, healing, blood, light, or something more abstract. At higher levels, this path begins to echo through the soul like a distant melody. You may not always hear it, but it's there—a thread of familiarity woven into your being.
The task was to find that thread. To tune into it. And once you do, you must let the laws of your path begin to pull you inward. Not forcefully and not all at once.
This could take days. Weeks. Months. And that was normal. Those who rushed risked everything.
But when done correctly, the shift would come. Subtle at first—like shedding invisible weight. The body would feel lighter, almost weightless. The senses would stretch. And around the practitioner, there would be a pressure—not oppressive, but immense. It would feel like mana, yet deeper… older… purer.
That, the book declared, was the higher realm. And only then could one begin to shape a Domain. But even then, the book advised restraint.
Start small. Don't try to build fortresses or landscapes. Begin with something simple—something symbolic like a chair or a stone. Let that first object serve as the anchor for everything else.
The book repeated this guidance several times, bolding the warnings in ink darker than the rest. It was clear how dangerous this process could be.
A Domain is a sacred space, the book reminded. Part dream. Part soul. Part law.
If it collapses while you're within it, you may lose part of yourself.
If it expands too quickly, it might tear itself apart. Take your time. Know every corner.
Leo turned the final page of the chapter. The last lines were written in a formal, almost reverent tone.
Once your Domain is large enough to hold your full attention—when your thoughts can walk through it and your senses can feel it—you will be able to send your consciousness there at will. That is your first true step into that realm.
In the future—when one's bond with their domain and the higher realm deepens—it becomes possible to exist simultaneously in both the real world and one's domain. From this dual presence, a practitioner can draw upon the latent power of their domain and channel it into the physical world. At more advanced levels, they can even summon aspects of the domain itself into reality. But that, the book noted, would be covered in later chapters.
Leo slowly closed the book halfway, letting it rest in his lap as his gaze drifted upward to the white space above.
"So I can be in both places at once," he murmured, the idea turning over in his mind like a newly discovered key.
He got out of his domain and while still lying on his bed, he exhaled softly and prepared to follow the book's guidance—though with one critical difference. He already possessed a domain.
He closed his eyes. Gradually, his awareness turned inward. He could feel the gentle hum of mana coursing through his body, wrapping around his muscles, settling deep into the rhythm of his body. It was as if his senses had slipped beneath the skin, mapping out every nerve, every pulse. Time seemed to stretch. For half an hour, he remained in this meditative state, until the physical began to blur, and his focus shifted toward the intangible—his soul, and more specifically, his Path.
Then, it happened. He felt it, a subtle tug, like the invisible pull of a tide at his core. He didn't resist. He let the force lift him, and soon it felt as if he were drifting above the clouds, suspended between worlds. His domain began to envelope him—not as a place he summoned, but as something that now wrapped itself around him, merging with his presence. He recognized the sensation. It was similar to drawing energy from it, but this time, he hadn't pulled anything. It had come on its own.
As he concentrated, a strange shift occurred. His domain came into view—not as a mental image, but as something tangible, as though it had projected itself into his line of sight. At the same time, he could still see the real world around him. He hadn't left his bed, yet he felt as if he had grown another set of eyes—one for each realm.
He reached inward, attempting to interact with something in his domain.
But just as his focus tightened, the connection snapped. His vision blurred. A sudden wave of dizziness overtook him, and sweat trickled down the side of his face.
"I may have my domain," he thought, steadying his breath, "but I skipped the foundation. If I want to truly use it, I'll need to go back and master these steps first."
He was too tired to do anything else that day, so he let himself sleep, barely moving until morning. When he finally woke up, his mind was clear. There was a long list of tasks waiting for him and, he knew exactly what needed to be done and how to do it. All that was missing was enough time to get it done.
Leo stepped onto the deck of the ship. It was still early, and only a few people were up. Among them was Arthur, standing quietly near the railing. Leo walked over and stood beside him. The wind tugged at Arthur's hair.
"I don't know what your god's purpose is," Arthur said, eyes fixed on the horizon. "But my father trusts you, and from what I've seen, so does the goddess of nature."
After a brief silence, he turned his head slightly toward Leo. "I have a feeling I may need his help soon."
Leo nodded, his gaze following the slow rise of the sun. "I don't know what'll happen that day... but we'll see."
They both stood in silence, watching as the sun crept above the horizon.