The materials were ready…
But one step remained to ensure the cultivation’s success and reduce the pain, even if just a little.
The preserved female Shadow Stalker’s body gleamed faintly in the darkness of the improvised tent. Ren manipulated it carefully, tracing the conductive fiber patterns until locating the most appropriate tentacle.
A tentacle too thick would absorb too much mana, one too thin would saturate quickly. He needed an intermediate one, with the correct amount of conductive fibers.
‘This one,’ he thought while using the Weaver thread to cleanly cut a tentacle the size of his index finger. The internal fibers briefly glowed when exposed, hungry for mana.
With precise movements, Ren submerged the tentacle in the now mana depleted solution he had prepared. The liquid, a mixture of poisonous fungi and moss, was instantly absorbed by the conductive fibers. The tentacle darkened, as if it was a paper that had absorbed ink.
The Bark Stalker powder came next. Ren carefully dusted it over the treated surface, watching how it adhered forming patterns like tiny scales.
The powder would seal the tentacle, preventing it from absorbing his vitality instead of just the specific mana he needed to manipulate.
‘Now the delicate part,’ he thought while unrolling more Weaver thread.
He began wrapping it around a section of the tentacle, creating a safe grip zone.
The mushrooms in his hair pulsed with warning when he took the first crystal. The mana density was ten times greater than those Taro used, enough to cause serious damage to his mana veins if not handled correctly.
He breathed deeply, holding the modified tentacle in his right hand. He positioned it over the veins above his stomach, where mana would flow most intensely.
‘Here we go,’ he thought while absorbing the crystal.
The pain was immediate and intense. Mana entered his system like liquid fire, threatening to instantly saturate his channels. His mushrooms began glowing strongly, trying to process the overload.
Ren pressed the tentacle at a specific point on his chest. The conductive fibers, hungry but controlled by the treatment, began absorbing the excess mana saturating the channel.
The pain decreased slightly, becoming manageable.
He moved the tentacle following his veins, allowing the conductive fibers to unblock saturation points. It was like opening small gates, allowing mana to flow instead of dangerously stagnating.
Sweat ran down his face while maintaining concentration. One wrong move, one second of carelessness, and mana could fatally accumulate in his vital points.
The tentacle and his willpower were his only protection against the overload that would leave him permanently unable to control mana.
His mushrooms pulsed erratically, struggling to process the energy flowing through his system. Still in their dormant phase, they weren’t ready to handle such power.
But that was precisely why they needed this controlled overload.
Ren continued moving the tentacle…
The process was painfully slow.
The tentacle’s conductive fibers began glowing with a sickly purple tone, signaling they were saturating. Ren adjusted his grip on the thread-covered section, grateful for that precaution.
Minutes that felt like hours passed while Ren struggled to maintain balance. The crystal gradually consumed itself, its mana distributed between his channels and the saturated tentacle.
Finally, when the last vestige of mana was absorbed, Ren allowed himself to breathe deeply. The tentacle in his hand was glowing an intense black, saturated to its capacity limit.
‘One down,’ he thought while placing the used tentacle in a sealed container. ‘Ninety-nine to go.’
The mushrooms in his hair pulsed weakly, exhausted by the effort. But there was something different in their glow, a deeper, more concentrated tone.
The first step toward awakening had been taken.
♢♢♢♢
The director’s office occupied the central tower’s peak.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the school grounds, while shelves filled with ancient tomes covered walls that weren’t glass. The domed ceiling was decorated with a fresco representing the dragons of different beast families, each in its natural territory.
A massive dark wood desk dominated the room’s center. Behind it, the director read a note with furrowed brow while his royal phoenix subtly manifested golden flashes in his white hair.
“Zhao is getting soft since that incident,” he murmured to himself while his eyes traced the lines. “A hundred thousand credits for a student with a spore? And this story about an extraordinary genius? It’s obvious he just feels pity for the boy…”
He left the note on the desk, where it joined several detailed reports about the medusa incident.
“At least before, his ‘support for the unfortunate’ made some sense,” he continued, his phoenix manifesting more clearly in response to his irritation. “But this is just…”
Finally, he looked up at the young woman waiting patiently before his desk. Her presence was so discreet she almost seemed to merge with the room’s shadows.
“I need you to investigate something,” his voice adopted a more formal tone. “There’s an… unusual student. A boy with a spore.”
The young woman nodded silently.
“I see you know who he is… I want you to test him. Something to help us understand what Zhao has seen in him to insist so much.” The director took up the note again, rereading a specific passage. “I need to know if this is another of his whims or if there really is something so special about him.”
The young woman made a slight bow before heading toward the door, her movements so fluid they barely disturbed the air.
“And remember,” the director added as she reached the threshold, “be discreet. We don’t want your identity revealed over trifles.”
♢♢♢♢
Ren stored the used tentacle in its special container, his movements slow from exhaustion. The mushrooms in his hair barely pulsed, also exhausted from the effort of processing so much mana.
His reflection in the room’s small mirror showed the changes: his veins still glowed faintly under his skin, and the mushrooms seemed more defined, with a deeper shine. They weren’t changes someone would notice at first glance, but they were there.
‘A hot bath,’ he thought while gathering his toiletries, ‘and then sleep for a week.’
The mental exhaustion was different from anything he’d experienced before. It wasn’t like tiredness after training with Lin, this was deeper, as if his mind had been stretched to its limit.
He headed toward the door, eager to reach the baths before his body simply decided to collapse.
Knock. Knock.
The knocks, though soft, startled him. It was late, his roommates didn’t knock to enter, and no one else usually came to the grey wing.
The mushrooms in his hair pulsed weakly in alert.
“Who is it?” he asked, his voice betraying some of his exhaustion.
“That doesn’t matter,” a female voice answered from the other side. “Could you open for a moment?”