Perched on the stone roof of one of the houses, he assumed a meditative position, striving to enhance his control and efficiency over his essence energy.
It had been a considerable time since he had actively engaged in meditation. Following the elimination of those snakes in the previous time plate, his efficiency had increased by a notable 5%—3% accrued during his passive walking journey here and 2% through this meditation technique, culminating in a total of 27%.
This progress felt agonizingly slow compared to before his arrival in this frigid realm. He speculated that without access to his personal essence reserve, improving his control and efficiency had become increasingly challenging; it felt akin to pushing against immense oceanic pressure.
Yet, unlike the deadly force of the ocean that could kill anyone, there seemed to be a protective barrier around him or specifically his mind, preventing it from shattering or breaking under the pressure of the truth of essence energy itself.
Nevertheless, he still had to delve deeper into this pressure, making the effort feel more laborious and tedious the further he went.
Having spent two days in this mountain city, he had devoted approximately 35 hours to meditation—almost two full days. The reason for this rigorous practice was that his body had begun to deteriorate; the essence energy within him, which typically postponed his basic human needs, had started to wane as his body adapted.
During the times he wasn't meditating, he had wandered through the houses in search of useful items but to little avail—discovering only crude cooking utensils, rags, and other insignificant objects.
The only notable find had been in the head chief's home, where he came across what appeared to be traditional attire, though it was just a simple, ancient but simple hooded garment. With his tunic now resembling little more than a rag, he contemplated the need for a change of clothing.
However, he pondered what he might do with his torn tunic, as despite its condition, it was still an important artifact. Then it struck him—if he could summon and unsummon his weapon[Essence Arrow] why not the tunic too? Sometimes, he chided himself for being thick-headed; even with exceptional intellect, certain thoughts slipped by unnoticed.
Focusing intently on the tunic, he intended to unsummon it, and in an instant, it vanished. For a fleeting moment, he experienced a sensation of something being added to a hidden place within him, sparking intrigue.
However, soon after, he felt a faint drain on his essence. Turning his attention inward, he realized his essence was being siphoned away to an unknown location; the clues pointed clearly toward the tunic, though its purpose remained mysterious. 'It worked.' It appeared that both his experiment and the use of his king's eyes had been successful.
Since his arrival, he had refrained from using the king's eyes, still haunted by the pain he had endured during their initial use. Yet, realizing the potential benefits, he decided to take the risk, and it paid off as his senses had recovered.
Ascending to the roof he used for meditation, he sat down and took several deep breaths, centering himself before shutting his eyes close and expanding his heightened senses across the cityscape.
His awareness quickly encompassed 90% of the city, crafting a mental blueprint within his mind. With the essence swirling in the air, he could perceive details within his enhanced sensory range and a subtle shift in perception struck him—where he typically saw a stark contrast of black and white, with black indicating shape and white denoting essence, the normally blurry outlines of black objects now appeared with slightly greater clarity.
Though still somewhat indistinct, this new view hinted at potential upgrades should he gain access to his own essence pool and enhance his control and efficiency over it.
Peering through the mental framework of his thoughts, he finally found clarity on the nagging mystery surrounding the mural on the wall of that hall. How, he wondered, could the hybrid creature have possibly accessed the cave that harbored the city?
The revelation was that: it hadn't entered at all. There wasn't any opening large enough to accommodate such a beast, leading him to entertain a sinister theory about the head chief. It was his belief that the chief was responsible for delivering the sacrifices personally, only to return with the remains to the city's bone graveyard. The creature, possessing a cunning intelligence, had spared the chief from its wrath, recognizing him as a source of sustenance until the end.
El let out a weary sigh; he was done ruminating over the tale. Now, his focus shifted to the daunting task of escaping this cave, the mountain, and this entire time plate.
Yet he was acutely aware that it wouldn't be a straightforward endeavor—it never was, and likely never would be. The telltale signs of weakness has began to creep into his limbs, a consequence of starvation, compounded by the looming threat of the ruthless hybrid creature, far stronger than any mere monster, hunting him with a hunger for his flesh and the treacherous terrain that lays ahead and on top of all that he felt utterly disadvantaged.
No food to quell his hunger, no immediate weapon at hand to defend himself against the creature, and no hope for the challenges posed by the landscape. Outwardly, he appeared a lost cause, but inwardly, he resolved this was merely another hurdle he had to surpass.
After all, if he were to perish at the hands of a creature born of such an unassuming origin on a mountainside, he might as well acquiesce. Yet, all of that thought of resolve was just a façade; it was his way of avoiding the grim reality he was about to face.
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