Dylan sat cross-legged, his eyes fixed on the gently crackling fire. In front of him, Maggie and Elisa had their eyes closed, their breathing calm and synchronized as they sank deep into meditation.
Night had already fallen, and Dylan was eager to find out what it felt like to reach the state of perception. Elisa had told him about it, but she hadn't experienced it herself either. She knew enough to explain it, but knowing and feeling were two very different things.
More than anything, Dylan was looking forward to the moment when spiritual essence would help his body regenerate faster. The wound on his side was itching like crazy now that he was sitting still.
Now that he was sure the others had already started absorbing, he was ready to begin his own journey.
He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift like a tiny canoe in a vast void, shutting out all external disturbances. His spirit began to weave its way toward the stone in his hand.
Just like before, he broke through the cold, dark fog of negative energy and soul essence, searching for the faint threads of spiritual essence.
He pulled them in, drawing them toward himself and greedily absorbing them into his soul. It was a strange sensation—he could feel something coursing through his body, yet it was impossible to see.
He relied solely on his intuition.
Once the gem was completely absorbed, it cracked and crumbled into a sort of glassy dust in his palm. But it didn't end there—purification was a necessary part of absorbing spiritual essence.
Instead of absorbing everything and purifying it all at once, Dylan preferred to purify each gem immediately after absorbing it. It would take longer, sure—but it was more efficient. The nature of these gems made purification slow anyway; those stubborn strands of essence clung tightly to the spiritual filaments like vines on a trellis.
It hadn't taken him as long as he'd expected. Dylan had a hunch—his body was adapting to the absorption of spiritual essence. Unlike Maggie, whose wounds were healing faster, he felt that his body was becoming more receptive, as if it were thirsty and finally being quenched.
That thirst seemed to speed up the process. In less than half an hour, Dylan had completely expelled the traces of negative energy from his body, sweating bullets—both sweat and blood. But in the end, he emerged… lighter.
He felt himself filling up, like a container slowly reaching its brim. Each gem brought strange side effects too, like someone on steroids with a dangerous energy rush coursing through him…
He counted—one, two, then three, and finally the fourth. Each gem got easier to absorb than the last. He was becoming more skilled at extracting the spiritual essence, carefully pulling it apart without mixing it with the gem's other unstable components.
Still, it was nerve-racking. Dylan was drenched in sweat—not just from effort, but from fear. Fear of messing it up. And Elisa was in no condition to help; she was off in her own trance, absorbing essence on her end.
Letting out a long breath, he reached for the final gem.
This one was naturally bigger. It pulsed with energy, and Dylan could tell—this one held more spiritual essence than all the others combined.
"Well, of course it does," Dylan muttered to himself. "It belonged to that bastard."
He closed his palm around it.
Right before starting, Dylan hesitated. It wasn't that he felt satisfied—far from it—but his body, this strange vessel for spiritual essence, felt… full. Brimming.
But Elisa's words echoed in his mind: If after absorbing the essence, you feel nothing special, you need to push. Push your body. Push your soul.
With a final glance at the gem resting in his hand, Dylan nodded.
And he began the absorption.
---
The moment Dylan let his consciousness plunge into the gem, he felt it.
As if he were falling into deep water.
Except this water was thick… heavy… electric.
And cold.
Not like the gentle pull of previous gems — this one dragged him in, as if it had a will of its own.
As if something inside refused to be absorbed.
"Too late now." he growled in his mind.
Dylan clenched his teeth and pushed forward, his mind cutting through layers of darkness and residual hatred that clung to the gem like rot.
Unlike the other times, the spiritual essence was buried deeper, wrapped in a cocoon of aggression and warped memories.
He reached it.
And the moment he touched it—
Everything snapped.
His mind exploded in a flash of alien images.
A battlefield. Blood. Screams.
A woman in chains.
Flames devouring a city.
A hobgoblin — the one he had killed — laughing as he butchered innocents with a spiked mace.
The essence was still… alive.
Or rather, imbued with the very soul of the hobgoblin.
And now, it was staring back at Dylan.
"Didn't I kill you…?"
The voice echoed in his mind.
Rough. Mocking. Sinister.
Dylan's heart pounded.
He wanted to pull back — his instincts screamed for him to run.
But Dylan was far tougher than that.
The gem cracked.
And its power surged into him like a monstrous wave.
His body arched, his eyes widened.
The air around him vibrated, warping under the sheer energy flooding his veins.
Veins that now glowed faintly, like cracks in porcelain filled with starlight.
His muscles burned. His wounds tore open again, as if lightning was stitching them shut from the inside.
And still — he did not give in.
He endured.
Teeth clenched until his jaw trembled, Dylan held firm.
The essence poured into him, consuming his last weaknesses, reshaping him at a fundamental level.
Then… a heavy silence.
The gem shattered completely in his hand, crumbling into ashes that the wind carried away.
Dylan collapsed forward, breath ragged, heart pounding like a war drum.
But he was alive…
Yet something had changed.
Dylan was saturated.
He felt it almost instantly: his senses were too sharp.
Every passing current, every residual wave around him turned into pain.
Those parasitic sensory impressions — the low humming, the hazy lights, the constant pressure on his skin — became unbearable.
His temples throbbed.
A thin line of blood slipped from his nose.
His stomach twisted, as if his own mana wanted to expel him.
He had crossed a line.
Now that his body had absorbed far more essence than planned,
his Soul was overheating.
The inner fever struck like lightning.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
His vision blurred like water rippling over shattered glass.
And his skin — gods — it prickled as if thousands of electric ants crawled just beneath it.
And yet… his mind grew clearer.
As if the sensory chaos burned away his mental impurities.
The pain anchored him.
Each emotion took on a new weight.
Fear was no longer just a thought — it became tangible, clinging to his skin like a cold spiderweb.
And the excitement — that spark of raw power — crackled in his blood, boiling, violent.
But he knew that if he stopped here,
it would kill him slowly.
He had to purify. Now.
Dylan dropped to his knees, pressing both hands to the ground, instinctively calling upon the flow of purification.
A pale glow radiated from his palms, coursing through his body in a cold, white shiver.
He focused.
Visualized his mind as a filter.
His breath slowed, deepened.
The negative energy — black and misty — began to seep out.
It oozed from his pores, dark streaks trailing up his arms and spilling from his fingertips like expelled ink.
His muscles seized.
He clenched his teeth, but held strong.
He felt every hostile fragment detach.
Every borrowed memory, every foreign emotion — rejected, burned, expelled.
The spiritual essence pulsed one last time…
Then quieted.
Silence returned — not the kind that screams of emptiness,
but the kind that settles after a battlefield.
Dylan opened his eyes.
His gray irises still faintly glowing, carrying traces of freshly absorbed essence.
But his breath was steadier.
His soul, clearer.
And most of all… more aware.