Chapter 35
Kael was still in Calvenne, hidden beneath an identity shaped by illusion.
Hunted across several cities, his head carrying an ever-growing bounty, he lived secluded in a narrow hideout above a deserted wing of an old inn, far from the main streets and patrol routes.
Since the bounty hunters' attack and the news from Noxtera, he had stopped pulling the strings of the city.
For the first time in a long while, Kael was no longer manipulating the world.
He was surviving.
He was observing.
And above all… he was thinking.
The silence of the night weighed heavily inside his hideout.
A cramped, cold room, lit by a single oil lamp whose flame flickered in rhythm with his breathing. Kael sat on the floor, legs crossed, back straight despite the tension crawling through every muscle in his body.
Since Calvenne.
Since the bounty hunters.
Since the memories of the heroes
One truth had become impossible to ignore.
He could not go on like this.
His mana was infinite. A bottomless sea—calm on the surface, violent in its depths.
But his body… his body was a cracked vessel. Every fight, every escape, every prolonged manipulation reminded him of that cruel reality.
Kael closed his eyes.
If I don't strengthen this body… I'll die before I can accomplish anything.
A Path Without a Master
There was no grimoire for what he was about to attempt.
No school.
No master.
No precedent.
Traditional cultivation methods relied on balance: energy, flesh, and mind.
But no sane cultivator would ever attempt to channel infinite energy into a mortal body.
Kael let out a bitter smile.
"Then I'll carve my own path."
He inhaled slowly and allowed his mana to rise.
Not as a torrent.
Not like before.
He forced the energy to condense… to thicken.
The First Attempt
Mana gathered around his muscles, seeking to form an internal armor, a protective layer meant to absorb the pressure.
At first, everything seemed stable.
A gentle warmth spread through his arms.
His bones vibrated faintly.
His breathing remained steady.
Kael frowned.
It's holding…
Then the pressure increased.
His muscles clenched violently.
Veins bulged beneath his skin, dark lines spreading across his body.
A dull pain bloomed in his chest.
He tried to stabilize the flow.
Too late.
The Break
A sharp crack echoed through the room.
Kael screamed.
His back arched as a wave of agony exploded throughout his body. The mana armor shattered instantly, turning against him like invisible blades.
He spat blood onto the floor.
"Ngh…!"
He collapsed onto his side, gasping for air. Every breath scorched his lungs. His heart beat erratically, as if it might burst apart.
The mana, now uncontrolled, dispersed violently through the room before slowly settling down.
Silence.
Failure
Kael lay there for a long time. Minutes… perhaps hours.
When he finally opened his eyes, the oil lamp was nearly extinguished.
He tried to push himself up… and failed.
His muscles refused to respond.
Spasms of pain rippled through his entire body.
A hoarse laugh escaped his throat.
"Pathetic…"
He had underestimated the gap between the infinite and the fragile.
He had believed he could force flesh the same way he forced the world.
A mistake.
A Bitter Truth
Lying on the cold floor, Kael stared at the ceiling.
Now he understood.
Strengthening his body would not be a matter of brute force.
It would be a slow construction, layer by layer, limit by limit.
Every step forward would demand time.
Every mistake could kill him.
His fingers slowly clenched.
"Fine…"
A tired smile formed on his lips.
"Then I'll cultivate like a mortal. Even with divine mana."
The First Foundation
He did not try to stand right away.
Instead, he let his mana circulate weakly, almost timidly, focused only on soothing the internal damage. Not strengthening. Not transforming.
Just surviving.
That night, Kael gained no power.
He crossed no threshold.
But he laid something far more important.
The first foundation of his new path.
And for the first time in a long while…
he fully accepted his limits.