Two days had passed, and Thalion’s belly was full. He hadn’t yet begun consuming the corpses of the beasts to gain additional stats, preferring for now to subsist on the prepared plants imbued with dark affinity. These he absorbed through his tendrils of darkness, savoring their potency. Until now, it had been incredibly challenging to fully merge his body with the darkness, but he was finally at a stage where he could attempt to infuse even the smallest parts of himself—his claws and teeth—with this elusive power.
What surprised him most was his heart. It was a void, a black hole hungrily devouring unimaginable amounts of darkness until it was brimming to the point of bursting. Each pulse sent a surge of shadowy energy throughout his body, and he knew a breakthrough was close. The sensation was overwhelming, a paradoxical blend of being on the verge of explosion yet grounded by immense power.
Switching from meditation, he stood on the gravity array, determined to push his limits. Thalion had no idea how much umbral predator could withstand, but it was undoubtedly the strongest of his transformations. Raw power coursed through him, unmatched by anything he had encountered so far.
He cranked the array up to Level 6, the strain on his muscles immediately evident. At Level 7, the pressure became nearly unbearable; every fiber of his body screamed as he fought to stay upright. He gritted his teeth against the crushing weight.
Unlike elixirs or the abyssal devourer form, this training didn’t share its benefits across all his forms. It was a direct test of the predator’s resilience, and Thalion realized with grim determination that perhaps Level 7 was already pushing too far. His vision swam, his legs trembled, and fainting seemed inevitable.
But then came the reckless thought: What if I overload it? Push it to the brink—just shy of death. If I survive, it’ll be worth it.
His self-healing was formidable, especially in this form, boosted further by his connection to the outsider. Pain was a cost he was willing to pay. So he pushed the array up another level, the weight slamming him to the ground like an unseen giant's hand.
What he hadn’t accounted for, though, was the raw, nerve-shattering pain. Bones cracked under the pressure, the agony sharp and unrelenting. Yet, as his bones broke, the umbral predator’s insane recovery kicked in, knitting them back together only for the process to repeat—over and over. The relentless cycle of destruction and regeneration tore through him like fire, but he held on.
He had learned to endure pain during his time on the golden mountain, and it served him well now. With sheer willpower, he remained conscious, focusing on channeling the darkness within to fortify his battered body. Inch by agonizing inch, he fought to rise.
Hours later, the struggle ended. A message flickered in his mind’s eye like a triumphant banner:
You have gained 91 Strength
The result was staggering. His form felt sturdier, his muscles thicker, his frame taller by what he estimated to be twenty centimeters. He noted that much of the "free darkness" within him had either been absorbed or expelled, possibly fueling his regeneration. The peculiar thought crossed his mind: Maybe breaking bones and forcing them to heal draws more darkness into them.
Pausing the array, he consumed more of the dark affinity plants. His reserves were vast, enough to sustain such indulgence without waste.
Yet, even as he felt the surge of power, a shadow loomed over his thoughts—a sense of foreboding. Something was coming for him. The presence was intangible but undeniable, a silent threat like a Damocles sword suspended above his head.
Perhaps it was linked to the other two bases, their rejection likely fueling their ire. Whatever the case, Thalion resolved to progress as quickly as possible.
Tomorrow, another council meeting loomed. Maybe there, he would glean some insight. Initially, he’d intended to ignore these gatherings and focus solely on cultivation, but his instincts told him otherwise. He marveled at how days of relentless effort hadn’t bored him. Maybe a possible side effect of his high wisdom, sharpening his focus on his goals. If so, he welcomed it.
A new plan formed in his mind. Next time, he would consume the plants for their stats the traditional way, not through tendrils. The plants with high affinity for darkness had served him well, but now it was time to gain some additional stats with the many other plants the alchemists had prepared for him. For now, though, he returned to the array. Four more grueling hours passed before he finally managed to rise again, albeit shakily. Stumbling from the circle, he feasted on a hill of life-affinity plants, savoring their restorative energy.
When full, he returned to the array, bracing himself for more pain and growth. Hours later, battered but alive, another notification appeared:
You have gained 3 Vitality
It wasn’t much, considering that the plants were enchanted by a healer and had once been far more potent. Perhaps it was like with elixirs, where the effectiveness waned with repeated use over time. Or maybe it had to do with his body tempering, but in the end, it was all speculation. What was undeniable, however, was the absurd power gained from that “stupid” gravity array.
The process—being pinned to the ground under excruciating pain—was nothing short of brutal, yet undeniably the fastest way to progress. If someone had been actively healing him during the ordeal, the healer would have run out of mana long ago. It was insane how strong his natural healing was, especially in combination with his connection to the outsider.
Time passed quickly for Thalion as he lay on the ground, gaining strength with each second of torment. His focus remained unshaken, honed to razor-sharp precision as the dark energy intertwined with his very essence. Then the moment came: the council meeting. He wasn’t expecting much of importance, aside from potential issues with the people from the other base. Their absence so far was suspicious.
Did they already anticipate rejection and plan a different tactic? If so, he hoped not. The teleportation circles would soon be ready, but until then, Thalion had other priorities. He needed to complete his armor and mask, and there was still the termite hive to visit. Time wasn’t on his side, but he doubted the hive would pose a serious threat for now, given that it was expanding in a different direction.
Yet the council meeting proved far more eventful than anticipated. The other human camps weren’t even mentioned—a relief, albeit a surprising one. Isolde, however, brought up the termites four times, pressing him about when he intended to deal with the issue, even though it wasn’t an immediate concern. That wasn’t the only strange thing. Maike launched into a tirade, expressing her disdain for a certain group of “blessed women” who owned multiple inns, bars, and other establishments. Then Kaldrek raised the topic of how some factions demanded that only the strongest should serve on the council, specifically in relation to the guards.
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Thalion silently reassured Kaldrek through their telepathic link: Don’t worry about your position. Send anyone you don’t want to face directly to me.
Despite outward calm, Thalion couldn’t shake the feeling that he was sitting atop a ticking time bomb, ready to detonate. The atmosphere was heavy, the tension almost palpable. Thankfully, this ominous sensation didn’t seem to stem from his title—at least not yet. The pressure he felt was far less intense than what he had experienced when his former comrades betrayed him.
It was time to focus. He needed to finish his equipment and deal with the termites. Maike was clearly disappointed that he hadn’t taken action against the women she’d complained about, but he simply had no time to spare. Randomly expelling them wouldn’t accomplish much, and he needed to prioritize.
He had far too much to do, even after handling the termites. There was the matter of creating a cave for eagly and the tidecaller serpent, empowering his forms with unique enchantments, and increasing eagly’s wind affinity. Beyond that, there were the countless abilities he could gain from slaying beasts. Thalion was determined to stack passive skills onto his forms, pushing their power to unprecedented levels. If he ever reached a limit, he could fuse skills to create space—or better yet, to forge stronger abilities. Resources were no concern; his connection to the outsider and other enhancements ensured he could keep casting without worry.
Even his amulet had grown significantly stronger. While it hadn’t reached a higher rarity, its power was immense nonetheless. He couldn’t help but wonder how much more potent it would become after defeating the termites. Though their souls were weaker, the sheer volume might rival the strength gained from the humans he’d slain on the boat.
He gathered his armor, mask, and cloak from the black pillar. Only the central crystal remained to be placed to complete the set. The task wasn’t without risk, though. The resulting explosion could be catastrophic, and he had no idea how strong it would be. That’s why he’d consulted Lucan, who had eagerly volunteered to assist.
The smith, ever enthusiastic about destruction, had been pestering him daily about when the explosion would take place. Thalion hoped Lucan’s preparations would be sufficient; otherwise, things could get dangerous—not for Thalion himself, who could heal even if a shockwave hurled him into a wall, but for Lucan. The crystal’s unique properties also carried the potential for a mental shockwave, something vastly different from the simpler crystals used in his sword.
Lucan had boasted about creating legendary weapons, his proudest achievement being a gravity wand with a unique skill that could apply crushing pressure to any chosen area. Essentially, it mimicked the gravity array’s effects, but Thalion could see its devastating potential in battle, particularly against light warriors or mages.
Determined to avoid unnecessary delays, Thalion set out for the smithy. He no longer walked openly through the streets but used mistform to avoid both the crowds and unwanted conversations. His secrecy served another purpose: he didn’t want those plotting in the shadows to know what he was up to. After finishing his armor, he intended to leave for the termite hive as quickly as possible.
There was a good chance there would be more than one fight ahead. Thalion wanted to test their strength and gather new souls for his amulet in the process. After stepping into the smithy, he enjoyed a lighthearted conversation with Lucan, who was confident that he could get the teleportation circles operational within a few days. The primary challenge wasn’t transporting people—it was ensuring they arrived in the correct location. The farther the destination, the more complex the process became.
Now, they stood before a massive, thirty-meter-wide circle with Thalion’s armor resting in its center. Four powerful barriers shimmered around the circle, designed to contain the impending shockwave. Above, a gravity rune was gradually dimming, lowering the central crystal onto its socket. These runes weren’t cheap; they required substantial time and effort from a runecarver—a profession that had only recently emerged. While crafting one rune might take half a day or more, that was already a significant improvement over earlier methods.
Lucan had initially relied on a mechanical arm he had constructed, but stronger items consistently obliterated the device. Frustrated by the repeated destruction, he had switched to using runes. Though these were also consumed in the process, they were much easier to replace.
As the crystal neared the socket, Thalion raised a formidable mana barrier before them, pouring all his strength into the spell. Lucan merely laughed at the display of caution.
“You’re overthinking this,” Lucan chuckled. “The barriers are more than enough to contain it.”
But Thalion wasn’t so sure. While the barriers were undoubtedly strong, they didn’t inspire the absolute confidence their size might suggest. A pulse of energy surged through the runes as the crystal fused with the armor, and in the next moment, a colossal shockwave rippled through the smithy, shaking its very foundation.
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It wasn’t just the physical force of the explosion. A wave of primal fear accompanied it, pressing heavily on their minds. Thalion felt a flicker of relief. The armor had to be of the same rarity as his sword—or perhaps even higher. Why was the mental component of this event so significant? The answer was clear when the four barriers collapsed into shards of dissipating energy.
Thalion’s mana shield held firm, easily absorbing the weakened shockwave. The mental aspect, however, was harder to block. For someone like Thalion, with a soul of exceptional strength, it posed no threat. Lucan, however, was a different story. Sweat beaded down the smith’s face, and his hands trembled briefly. Then, just as quickly, a broad grin broke across his face.
“Haha, that was incredible!” Lucan exclaimed, laughing uproariously. “Now I know exactly how many crystals I need in the future to keep the barriers stable!”
Thalion raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Wait, are you telling me you only set this up to test your barriers?”
“Of course,” Lucan replied with a grin. “Most of my time has been spent on the teleportation circles anyway.”
“You’re a reckless genius, Lucan.” Thalion’s tone was both exasperated and impressed. Moments later, a notification appeared before him:
You have created an item of rare power
Veil of Dread (Celestial)
Thalion's thoughts raced like a torrent, his mind performing jumping jacks as he processed the sheer power of the armor and its celestial rarity.
His first piece of celestial equipment—it was more than just a milestone; it was a testament to how far he had come. Even though he suspected it might be downgraded once he ascended to E-grade, the achievement still sent a surge of excitement coursing through his veins. His heart pounded, not just from pride, but from the promise of battles to come, where the armor's true potential could unfold.
Lucan’s grin faded slightly as his expression grew more thoughtful. “You know, it’s a bit bittersweet. A few weeks ago, I was the best smith around here. Now, I might barely make the top ten.”
Thalion’s gaze softened. “Don’t let that drag you down,” he said, his voice carrying quiet reassurance. “I know how it feels to be overshadowed. If things had gone differently, I wouldn’t have had to run from Kael and the others.”
Lucan’s curiosity was piqued. “Are you confident you could beat them if we face them at the fifth stage?” His tone was a mix of interest and unease.
“Hard to say,” Thalion mused aloud. “It depends on how much they’ve improved in the past few weeks. If they’ve already evolved to E-grade, it could get tricky. On the other hand, rushing to evolve would weaken their class progression, leaving them vulnerable in the future. By then, I’ll be far stronger.”
Their conversation eventually drifted back to the teleportation circles. Lucan’s explanations, though detailed, quickly became too technical for Thalion to follow. He bid the smith farewell and left the workshop.
The hunt for termites awaited. Thalion was eager to see what his new armor of celestial rarity was capable of. The Veil of Dread wasn’t just a piece of equipment—it was a promise of power, and he intended to make full use of it.