Chapter 11: Evolution Points
The moment Malrik stepped into his quarters, the room’s heavy silence swallowed him, instantly washing away the suffocating grandeur of the Treasury.
Behind him, Eliza clicked the door shut. She had escorted him all the way back without eyeing the stone in his hand or uttering a single word. Whether it was professional restraint or sheer indifference, she didn’t pry.
Malrik could respect that.
He turned to face her, his expression flat. "Eliza."
"Yes, Young Master?"
"For the next few minutes... make sure absolutely no one disturbs me."
She bowed smoothly. "As you wish."
She slipped out, the lock clicking softly into place.
Only after confirming the silence was absolute did Malrik walk over to the heavy mahogany desk by the window. His hand dipped into his coat. When it emerged, the emerald crystal sat quietly in his palm.
Under the sharp morning sunlight, the Spirit Stone looked deceptively beautiful. Those tiny emerald wisps drifted beneath its surface like living mist trapped under glass. It bore no resemblance to mana. Mana was an active, aggressive thing—wild and erratic. This energy was calm, heavy, and strangely comforting.
Malrik studied it. The very first thing the system actually cares about. If this thing truly gives Evolution Points... everything starts here.
He squeezed the crystal.
Nothing happened.
His brows knitted together. He waited a few agonizing seconds. Still, absolutely nothing.
Splendid. Do I have to trigger it manually?
He channeled a stream of standard mana into the stone. No reaction. He tried pouring Death Mana through it. Still dead silence. After burning through a few more methods, the stone remained as stubborn as a regular pebble.
A brief flash of irritation surfaced. Had the system merely identified the damn thing without giving him a way to use it? Or had he misread the situation entirely?
Just as the irritation began to sour, a prompt flared to life.
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[ Spirit Stone Detected ]
[ Would you like to absorb this material? ]
[ Yes ] [ No ]
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Malrik’s eyes widened slightly. Ah. So I just had to wait for the UI.
Without a shred of hesitation, he mentally selected [ Yes ].
The prompt vanished. For one agonizing heartbeat, the room remained still. Then—
Crack.
A hairline fracture splintered across the emerald surface. Another followed, then dozens more. The stone fractured into a web of glowing green fissures before bursting into countless strands of soft, ethereal light.
They didn’t bleed into the air. Instead, every single strand coiled and flowed directly into his palm.
The moment the first thread pierced his skin, Malrik’s entire body went rigid.
"...!"
It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t even overwhelming. A wave of indescribable, suffocating warmth flooded from his palm, racing through his veins. Unlike mana, which ripped through his meridians like a raging river, this felt as though something was gently wrapping itself around his very soul.
Warm. Quiet. Heavy.
His breathing slowed to a crawl. His eyelids fluttered shut entirely on instinct as the emerald tide continued to pour into him, patient and precise, not wasting a single drop.
As the Soul Energy settled deep within him, a foreign sensation took root. His soul felt... nourished. There wasn’t a better word for it. It wasn’t raw physical strength or a sudden surge of magical authority; it felt like completion. Like a starving, forgotten part of his existence had finally been thrown a feast.
A few moments later, the last green thread dissolved into his skin.
The stone in his palm was entirely drained of its luster. Its vibrant green hue had faded into a pathetic, chalky gray. Then, it simply crumbled. The gray powder slipped between his fingers, scattering silently across the floorboards.
Right on cue, the blue interface materialized.
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[ Absorption Complete ]
[ Evolution Points Obtained ]
+950 Evolution Points
[ Current Evolution Points: 950 ]
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Malrik stared at the floating numbers, unblinking.
Nine hundred and fifty. Far more than he had budgeted for. His pulse quickened. Without wasting a breath, he mentally yanked open his Class information panel.
A fresh window flickered into view.
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[ Class: Necromancer ]
[ Evolution Progress ]
[ 0 / 1000 ]
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Silence reclaimed the room. Malrik just stared at the digit.
950. Only fifty left.
A slow, sharp smile spread across his face. "Just fifty..." he whispered to the empty room. "So damn close."
For the first time since inheriting Infinite Evolution, the first real step was staring him right in the face. Only fifty paltry points separated him from discovering what his reality-breaking Talent could actually do. His knuckles whitened as he balled his fists.
If a single Fallen-grade stone could yield nearly a thousand points, then tracking down another one—no, even a significantly weaker stone would easily cross the finish line.
His priorities flipped instantly. He didn’t need flashy weapons. He didn’t need masterwork armor. Right now, nothing on this godforsaken world mattered more than Spirit Stones. Every single pebble was a direct shortcut to evolving his Class. And if Infinite Evolution actually lived up to its arrogant name, today’s discovery was the true turning point of his second life.
Malrik waved the screen away, though the adrenaline humming through his veins refused to die down.
Fifty points. After wasting ten years in his past life blindly begging for a way to feed his Talent, he was one step away from seeing its true face.
He let out a short, quiet laugh. So that’s the trick.
The system had finally tossed him a bone. Evolution Points weren’t tied to grinding levels, cultivating aura, or butchering waves of mindless enemies. They had to be bought with rare, specific materials. Spirit Stones. At least, that was the current data point.
He glanced down at the gray dust pooling near his boots. A moment ago, that insignificant rock had put his ultimate goal within arm’s reach. Which meant if he could hoard enough of them, his growth would scale into something terrifying.
A dangerous, simple thought crossed his mind.
I’ll just buy them.
The concept felt absurdly foreign. In his previous life, every single crumb of power had to be bled for. Survival had been a daily, desperate math problem.
But now? Things were hilariously different.
He wasn’t some nameless, starving Awakener anymore. He was the youngest son of Duke Vaelzareth Vesperion—one of the most terrifying, influential men in the Valorian Empire. For the first time in either of his lives, he possessed something far more practical than raw talent. He had institutional wealth. Connections. Continental leverage.
Refusing to abuse that would be a special brand of stupidity.
The smile on his lips grew wider, sharper. "If I was fortunate enough to be reincarnated into House Vesperion... I’d be an absolute idiot not to milk them for everything they’re worth."
He turned toward the door. "Eliza. Get in here."
The door swung open without a sound. Eliza stepped through the threshold, bowing with practiced elegance. "You called, Young Master?"
Malrik nodded curtly. "I need a favor."
She waited, her face a perfect mask.
"I need Spirit Stones," Malrik said flatly. "As many as you can lay your hands on."
For the first time since she had been assigned to him, a genuine flicker of surprise cracked Eliza’s composed exterior. "Spirit Stones...?"
"Yes. Can you get them?"
She lowered her gaze, her mind visibly calculating. "That depends entirely on the grade, Young Master. The advanced tiers are practically impossible to procure on a whim. When they do surface, they are guarded heavily and funneled straight into the Empire’s largest auction houses. They are far beyond what standard merchants can license."
She paused, looking back up. "However... Low-grade stones are a different story. They are much more common. Common-grade stones are slightly scarcer, but still entirely obtainable if we search thoroughly."
Malrik listened, his mind instantly doing the math. That was more than enough. He didn’t need high-tier stones to fill a fifty-point deficit. If quantity could drown out quality, he would simply buy the market out.
"Purchase every single Spirit Stone you can find," Malrik ordered.
Eliza blinked, her composure slipping a fraction more. "...Every one of them?"
"Every single one. I don’t care if they are Low-grade or Common-grade. Clear them out."
She hesitated, her voice carrying a rare note of caution. "Young Master... the bill for an operation like that will not be small."
Malrik offered a faint, amused smile. "How much liquid capital do I actually have?"
This time, Eliza looked genuinely bewildered. "You... do not remember?"
Malrik kept his smile fixed and offered no explanation. Realizing her master wasn’t in a sharing mood, she gave a small nod and walked over to a heavily secured black cabinet against the wall.
Hidden beneath several interlocking defensive inscriptions was a reinforced metal safe. With practiced, fluid movements, she bypassed the security. The heavy iron door groaned open.
Stacked inside, gleaming under the room’s lighting, were neat, uniform rows of platinum coins. The metallic luster practically filled the room.
Even Malrik couldn’t entirely hide his shock. Very well
Eliza turned back to him. "These are your personal savings, Young Master Malrik. Over the years, your monthly stipends and various inheritance gifts from the family patriarch have been stored here untouched." She cast a brief glance at the ledger inside before continuing. "There are approximately five thousand Platinum Coins."
Malrik stayed quiet, his eyes locked on the wealth.
Five thousand Platinum Coins.
The raw number didn’t hit him immediately. He had only dropped into this world yesterday; his grasp on the local economy was practically nonexistent. But right on cue, the original Malrik’s memories dredged themselves up, mapping out the currency hierarchy in his head.
The Empire’s economy was simple but steep: Copper, Silver, Gold, Platinum. Each tier was worth a thousand of the one below it. One Silver was a thousand Copper. One Gold was a thousand Silver. And a single Platinum Coin was worth a staggering one thousand Gold Coins.
Malrik’s eyes narrowed. Five thousand Platinum Coins wasn’t just a heavy purse. It was an offensive, absurd fortune. Even among elite high nobility, very few young heirs had that kind of personal liquid wealth sitting in their bedrooms.
His smile turned thoroughly dry. In my past life, I spent a decade sweating over whether I’d have enough coin to eat the next day. And now, I’m standing in front of enough gold to buy out every Spirit Stone in the entire Duchy.
Life was a hilarious joke. In his first life, he doubted he had ever accumulated the lifetime wealth equivalent to a single Platinum piece. Now, five thousand were sitting in a wall safe like spare change. The disparity between his two lives felt completely surreal.
He stepped forward and slid the safe door shut. "Use the funds."
Eliza looked at him, her eyebrows raised. "All of it?"
"No," Malrik said calmly, meeting her gaze. "Buy every available Spirit Stone across the Duchy. Once the market is dry, bring whatever change is left back to me."
For a long, lingering moment, Eliza just stared at him. She clearly couldn’t wrap her head around why her young master had suddenly developed a manic obsession with an obscure, low-tier crafting material. But cross-examining her employer wasn’t in her job description.
She bowed low. "It will be done, Young Master."
She turned to leave, but stopped just as her hand brushed the brass doorknob. "Oh... I nearly forgot."
Malrik looked over. "What?"
"Your first weapon training session begins in exactly ten minutes."
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