So that was it.
That was the real secret.
No formulas. No doctrines.
Just experience. Survival, burned into the body so deep, it became structure.
He leaned back slightly, the thought warm in his chest.
"No wonder the ones who survived the Cradle always came out monsters."
There wasn't just strength in that place. There was function.
It restructured you.
Or it killed you.
Either way, something new came out.
His smile twitched wider. Crooked. Quiet.
"Heh…"
It made sense now.
Not just the power.
The why of it.
The beast hadn't protected him out of mercy.
It had shown him something.
And now, every breath he took was echoing that memory—refining mana not through intent, but through resonance.
Damien straightened his back slightly, keeping his posture anchored. The room around him dimmed just a little as the filtration deepened—each thread of ambient mana now spiraling inward, folding tighter, meeting the core's standard and being accepted.
Not forced in.
Invited.
