Clouds rolled overhead.
Not natural.
Not entirely coincidence.
The basin darkened as the sun slipped behind thick cover.
Shadows stretched across broken stone.
Aldric looked up once.
Then smiled slowly.
"…That's better."
The pressure around him changed instantly.
Crimson mana, once restrained and thin, now poured off him like liquid night. It no longer flickered.
It flooded.
The troll king felt it.
Its grip tightened around the slab of stone—
But for the first time—
It hesitated.
Draven stepped forward.
And this time—
He didn't hold back.
Mana ignited around him.
Not wild.
Not explosive.
Condensed.
Controlled.
A dense aura wrapped his frame, distorting the air slightly. The ground beneath his feet cracked—not from force, but from pressure.
The crystals he had absorbed resonated within him.
Fifty percent—
Climbing.
The troll king roared and hurled the massive slab.
Draven vanished from its path.
The rock shattered against the basin wall in an explosion of debris.
He reappeared midair, mana compressing around his fist—
And struck.
The impact didn't merely break bone.
It detonated.
The troll king's torso caved inward violently as a shockwave tore through its back, ripping chunks of cobalt flesh free.
It staggered—
Regeneration attempted to begin.
It never had the chance.
Aldric appeared behind it.
No restraint now.
No sunlight weakening him.
Crimson constructs erupted from the ground—massive spears of hardened blood that impaled both of the troll king's legs and pinned it in place.
The creature roared, struggling to break free—
Aldric lifted a hand.
The spears expanded.
Shredding muscle.
Tearing tendons apart.
Blood didn't spill normally—
It bent.
Pulled.
Dragged into Aldric's control.
"You're not regenerating from that," he murmured calmly.
The troll king swung blindly backward—
Draven caught the arm mid-motion.
Mana surged through his grip.
He squeezed.
The limb exploded from internal pressure, bone fragments blasting outward in a violent spray.
Before regeneration could pulse—
Draven stepped in.
His glowing eyes locked onto the heavily shielded crystal at the creature's core.
This time—
He didn't search.
He thrust his arm forward.
Mana-coated fingers pierced reinforced ribcage like brittle wood.
The troll king convulsed violently.
Aldric tightened his grip in the air—
Crimson chains coiled around the monster's torso and throat, locking it in place completely.
Draven reached the core.
Dense.
Heavy.
Larger than the blue variant's.
It pulsed once—
Twice—
Trying to feed regeneration.
He crushed it in his hand.
Not pulled out.
Crushed.
The sound echoed like breaking glass.
The troll king froze mid-roar.
Its glow vanished.
Its body stopped responding.
Draven withdrew his hand as the massive creature collapsed forward.
The basin shook from the impact.
Silence followed.
No regeneration.
No second phase.
No struggle.
One-sided.
A massacre.
Aldric released his constructs slowly, blood dispersing into mist.
He looked down at the fallen den leader.
"…That was unfair."
Draven stood over the corpse.
Mana surged inward as fragments of the shattered core were absorbed.
The pressure around him intensified again.
Fifty-three percent.
Closer.
Much closer.
The cultist stared from the edge of the basin, unable to move.
The entire troll nest—
Erased in minutes.
Aldric glanced at Draven.
"You happy now?"
Draven's eyes dimmed slightly as the surge stabilized.
He looked deeper into the basin.
Not satisfied.
Not yet.
"Not enough."
The forest, however—
Had gone completely silent.
Draven's voice was low.
"Give me all the magic stones."
No hesitation.
No extra words.
Aldric exhaled.
"Finally."
He extended his hand.
The blood bubble of extracted crystals drifted toward Draven, held steady by a thin layer of crimson control.
Aldric guided it closer.
"There you go."
Then he released it.
The bubble vanished.
The crystals dropped—
Not scattered.
Not bouncing.
They fell together in a dense pile at Draven's feet.
Dozens of cores.
Some small.
Some large.
All still faintly glowing.
Draven stared down at them.
His expression didn't change.
Forty-five… fifty… fifty-five percent.
Closer.
Not enough.
But closer.
He knelt.
The movement was slow.
Intentional.
As he reached for the crystals—
A small shape stirred inside his clothing.
The cat.
It slipped out.
Tiny.
Black-furred.
Eyes bright and alert despite the chaos.
It stretched, then padded forward and sniffed the pile of crystals.
Draven paused.
The cat looked up at him.
Then at the glowing stones.
It tilted its head.
Aldric blinked.
"…That thing again."
The cat meowed softly.
Not demanding.
Curious.
It brushed against Draven's hand.
Draven stared at the cat.
"You help yourself," he said flatly. "Since you are the only one doing anything."
The cat didn't hesitate.
It sniffed one of the glowing stones and licked it.
The core dissolved.
Mana flowed into it in a tiny trickle.
It blinked, then reached for another.
Draven watched.
Then knelt and scooped up a handful of crystals.
He dropped his bow to the side without ceremony.
The stones glimmered in his palm.
Without waiting—
He brought them to his mouth and swallowed.
Energy erupted through him.
Sharp.
Raw.
It flooded his channels, forcing his body to compress and fold it as always.
He didn't stop.
He grabbed another handful.
Swallowed.
Again.
And again.
Blood seeped from the corners of his eyes.
From his nose.
From his ears.
The pressure inside him built.
His internal structure strained.
A normal person would have collapsed.
He didn't.
He shoved more crystals into his mouth.
Swallowed despite the burn.
Despite the way his body protested.
Blood threatened to spill from his lips—
He clamped his mouth shut and forced it down.
Crimson liquid burst from the corners of his mouth instead, spraying between his fingers as he held the stones in place and kept chewing.
No hesitation.
No release.
Just absorption.
Forty percent.
Fifty.
The numbers weren't spoken.
He felt them.
Each core increased his density.
Increased his potential.
It hurt.
Not dramatically.
Not theatrically.
But in the way something complex and strained resists further pressure.
Blood dripped onto the stones.
He didn't wipe it away.
He grabbed another handful.
Swallowed.
The cat watched.
Then reached up and touched a smaller core.
It absorbed a sliver of energy and purred.
Draven glanced at it.
The cat blinked.
Then continued eating tiny fragments.
Aldric exhaled sharply.
"You're insane."
Draven didn't answer.
Blood continued to drip.
His breathing remained steady.
Forced.
Controlled.
Even as more crimson spilled from his mouth and fingertips, he gathered the last of the crystals and consumed them.
Progress.
Not perfection.
But closer.
Always closer.
Draven stopped swallowing.
A few crystals remained in his palm—glowing faintly, slick with blood.
He stared at them.
His body reacted.
Veins bulged beneath his skin.
Dark lines spread outward like cracks.
Blood vessels ruptured inside him.
Explosively.
Not theatrically.
Painfully.
A deep internal strain.
His muscles tightened.
Jaw clenched.
A low growl escaped him as the pressure spiked.
It wasn't weakness.
It was overload.
The mana he had consumed—too much, too fast—fought against his channels.
They weren't ready to hold it all.
Blood trickled from his nose.
From the corners of his eyes.
From the edge of his clenched teeth.
He tried to compress it.
To fold it as he always did.
But the surge was violent.
Unruly.
His hands trembled.
The remaining crystals in his grip threatened to slip.
He tightened his hold.
Pain shot through his arms.
Vessels burst beneath the skin, leaving faint red marks that spread and faded as his body tried to repair itself.
Not fast enough.
He gritted his teeth harder.
"Damn it."
The words were low.
Barely more than a breath.
He didn't drop the stones.
He didn't stop.
He held them.
Forced the energy inward.
It hurt.
Enough to make his shoulders tense.
Enough to hitch his breathing.
But he didn't collapse.
He didn't cry out.
He endured.
Aldric watched, expression sharpening.
"You should stop."
Not concern.
Observation.
Draven didn't answer.
He swallowed what remained in his mouth.
Blood threatened to surge out—
He held it back.
Jaw locked.
Fingers white-knuckled around the last cores.
Slowly, deliberately, he forced the energy down.
Compressed it.
Folded it.
The pain didn't vanish.
It dulled.
A sign of progress.
The cat sat nearby, licking a tiny crystal fragment.
It purred.
Unbothered.
Draven exhaled shakily.
Blood dripped onto the ground.
He didn't wipe it away.
Not yet.
He looked at the remaining stones.
Few.
But still useful.
He reached for one.
His hand trembled.
Veins still visible beneath his skin.
He growled softly.
Then stopped.
Not all of it needed to be taken.
Not right now.
He set the last few aside.
A compromise.
His body would heal.
It always did.
Slowly, he straightened.
Blood continued to drip from his nose.
From his mouth.
Not enough to matter.
He exhaled again.
Controlled.
"I am fine."
It wasn't bravado.
It was fact.
Pain existed.
But so did progress.