In the stillness of the forest, under the suffocating veil of night, a pair of crimson eyes gleamed like twin rubies within the darkness of the alcove. They glowed with cold intelligence—sharp, focused, and unblinking—locked on a single object resting gently in their owner's palm.
A stone. Not just any stone.
An Aetherstone.
A glowing purple Aetherstone, gleaming faintly like starlight swallowed by dusk.
Luciel sat motionless, his breathing shallow and his posture stiff despite the pain that lingered in every limb. The stone pulsed with a strange rhythm, almost like a heartbeat—alive and potent, radiating condensed, volatile mana.
He had seen Aetherstones before. He'd handled them, studied them, and even refined their essence in controlled labs back in his world. Every being with mana possessed a core, and when they died, the core crystalized—leaving behind this precious fragment.
But this one… this one was different.
His crimson gaze flickered toward the mutilated corpse lying outside the alcove—torn and soaked in blood, steam still rising faintly from its fresh wounds. The creature had been a strange amalgamation of twisted forms, nothing like the monsters he remembered from the dossiers. This thing had been unnatural. The Aetherstone it left behind was proof.
Its mana felt like the same erratic, wild energy that polluted the Unique Gate. Yet—beneath that chaos—there was something else.
Something deeper. Stronger. Older.
Luciel tilted the stone slightly, letting the ambient moonlight catch the faint inscriptions carved into its edges. Faint ridges—unseen to a normal eye—formed intricate patterns along its surface. This wasn't an ordinary E-rank monster's core.
It felt… ancient. Condensed. Laced with secrets. Dangerous.
But also—useful.
If he could absorb it, it would restore his mana reserves. Maybe even amplify his strength dramatically. And in this place, where danger lurked behind every shadow? That mattered more than caution.
Without hesitation, Luciel sat cross-legged, ignoring the protests from his still-healing muscles and cracked bones. His breathing deepened, becoming controlled and rhythmic. He had to focus.
The absorption of an Aetherstone wasn't simple—especially one this potent.
Step One—stabilize internal mana. Open the body's circuits for efficient flow.
Luciel let out a slow breath. His body was still tender from the last battle, but he'd noticed something after the soul merger—his control had improved. His mana responded more swiftly. More cleanly.
He gathered the turbulent mana swirling within his core and forced it into submission, opening each internal circuit one by one. The pain was sharp, like tearing open veins that had just barely begun to clot. But he endured it, expression calm, jaw clenched.
Step Two—regulate internal mana. Draw in trace amounts from the environment first.
This would buffer the chaos that was bound to follow when he absorbed the monster's core. Like pouring water into a boiling pot to cool it first.
He exhaled again, a mist of breath vanishing into the night as he reached out—not with his hands, but with his core. Thread-thin tendrils of mana extended from him, weaving into the mana-saturated air of the Gate.
Luciel began drawing it in. Slowly. Deliberately.
His body flinched as the surrounding mana entered him. Even this external mana felt wrong. Unnatural. Sharp like broken glass scraping through his veins. But he adjusted. He adapted.
Step Three—absorb the Aetherstone. Carefully. In small increments.
He drew in the first sliver of mana from the Aetherstone.
And immediately—agony.
A scream threatened to erupt from his throat, but he swallowed it down like poison. His circuits stretched. Screamed. It felt like molten iron searing through arteries, like shards of frozen wind tearing through his core.
His head throbbed, every pulse like a hammer pounding behind his eyes. Blood dripped from his nose. His veins bulged and shimmered beneath his skin, glowing faintly violet from the overloaded mana pressure.
But he endured.
Absorb.
Stabilize.
The rhythm began. A slow, torturous cycle. His muscles trembled. His bones groaned. His mind reeled, spiraling between lucidity and madness—but his will remained intact.
This pain? It was nothing.
Nothing.
He'd endured far worse after his kidnapping.
He remembered it clearly. The months of torture. The broken bones. The forced experiments. The cruel voices echoing in dark rooms where no sunlight reached.
They'd tried to break him.
But they failed.
A cold, venomous hatred surged within him. So sharp. So raw it burned brighter than any flame.
His killing intent erupted.
So potent—so pure—it blanketed the forest in a suffocating aura of death.
Creatures drawn by the scent of blood outside the alcove halted instantly, instincts screaming in terror. Their bodies refused to move.
Even the wind stilled.
Miles away, animals froze mid-step. Birds fell silent. Predators slunk back into their holes, trembling as if Death itself had gazed at them.
Luciel's eyes remained closed. He refused to let rage consume him.
He took that hatred and folded it into a single purpose:
Get stronger. Get out. Find them.
And then, annihilate every single one.
He continued absorbing.
One hour passed...
Three hours...
Then five.
His body felt like a furnace. A warzone of conflicting energies. But the mana was finally stabilizing. His core felt full—vibrant and complete. And just as the last remnants of mana were pulled from the Aetherstone—
BOOOOOM.
The world exploded.
Luciel's mana burst outward in a colossal wave, cracking the stone floor beneath him, splintering the alcove wall. His body trembled as his core began devouring mana from the surroundings. Unbidden. Unstoppable.
Luciel's eyes flew open. But before he could regain control—his body seized. Limbs locked. Muscles rigid.
His consciousness swam. Dizzy. Distant. The mana around him coiled violently, like a vortex in a storm.
And then—he rose.
Lifted by invisible currents, Luciel floated up into the night. His body ascended gently, hovering outside the alcove under the gaze of the silver moon.
The transformation began.
The forest watched in silence. Crimson eyes now shone like dying stars. Moonlight bathed his body.
His hair, already pale, shimmered with silver threads, flowing like silk in the wind. His wounds—deep gashes, cracked ribs, torn ligaments—began to heal. Rapidly.
The broken tissues realigned. Blood vessels regenerated. Skin reformed without a scar. His body glowed with a faint radiance, and the once visible signs of trauma vanished.
Bones hardened. Muscles refined. Senses sharpened. He was evolving—transcending the limits of ordinary humans.
His aura changed. It became divine. Otherworldly.
As if a fallen angel descended into the Gate—one bathed not in holy light, but cold, vengeful fire.
The mana in the world—normally chaotic and wild—knelt before him.
And then—the winds came.
From every direction. A storm was born around him.
Gales howled, spiraling into a violent maelstrom centered around Luciel. His body remained suspended—calm amidst the storm—while torn leaves, branches, and dust whirled in chaos around him.
His core pulsed. Resonated. A strange hum echoed in the air.
Luciel felt it. A presence. A frequency.
The mana within him called to something unseen—something ancient and untamed.
The wind answered.
And then, a voice rang in his head.
[System Notification]
[Elemental Resonance Detected]
[Wind Element Unlocked]