Novel Full Chapter 401: Identify Yourselves!
Chapter 401: Identify Yourselves!
Pa! Pa! Pa!
The steady rhythm of Fenrir’s paws thudded against the dirt road, the carriage swaying gently as it carried them further north.
The afternoon sun spilled across the horizon, though its warmth seemed to have been drowned out by the weight of the scene from the last village they had encountered.
Inside the carriage, Lyone sat cross-legged, a Grade Seven essence core floating lightly above his palm. Its faint blue glow pulsed like a heartbeat, essence whispering to him in a rhythm he barely understood.
Beads of sweat dotted his forehead—some even rolling down the front and sides of his face—as he forced himself to reach inward, coaxing his own aura to wrap around the fragment of condensed power.
Across from him, Damien watched quietly, arms folded, his gaze sharp but calm.
“You’re forcing it again,” Damien said, his voice even. “Don’t drag the essence out like a thief breaking into a vault. Invite it. Let it come to you willingly, then claim it.”
Lyone bit his lip. “That sounds… easier said than done.”
“Everything is easier said than done,” Damien replied dryly. “Now, focus. Feel the flow, not the core. The core doesn’t surrender because you demand it—it surrenders because you show it your strength without desperation. It’ll surrender only when you convince it that you need the essence within.”
Lyone closed his eyes, drawing a long breath. His aura trembled faintly, a thin thread of it wrapping around the glowing core. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, a wisp of blue seeped from the crystal and flowed into his chest. Lyone gasped, his body shuddering as raw essence coursed through him.
Damien nodded once. “Good. Now don’t choke on it. Guide it. If it scatters inside you, it will destroy more than it strengthens.”
Arielle sat near the window, watching but saying little. She noticed the way Damien’s tone carried both command and patience—unyielding, but never cruel.
The boy was struggling, but under Damien’s presence, he pressed on.
After several tense minutes, the glow of the core dimmed slightly, its power partially siphoned. Lyone’s breathing came ragged, but his eyes opened, gleaming with triumph.
“I… I did it,” he said, his voice hoarse but proud.
Damien allowed himself a small smile. “Barely. But it’s a start. Remember this moment, Lyone. Every battle you survive will come down to moments like this—control, not chaos.”
Lyone’s grin faltered slightly at Damien’s bluntness, but the weight of his words sank in.
~~~~~
Two days of steady travel blurred together with training and silence. But the road itself soon reminded them of the enemy that marched ahead.
It began with one corpse, sprawled in the ditch—a man, armor torn apart, his chest cracked open as though something had clawed through it from within. Lyone gagged but forced himself to look, though Damien simply noted the wounds with cold precision.
He’d seen his fair share of corpses and he’d also made his fair share of them too. This one didn’t affect him mentally in any way.
By the second day, there were more.
A pair of demons with broken horns, lying twisted in the dirt. A beast, its once-powerful body rotting with black veins.
Then, a dozen bodies clustered together near the side of the road—men, demons, and mana beasts all intermingled, as though a brutal skirmish had ended here.
“Something’s wrong,” Arielle murmured as they slowed near the scene. Her hand gripped her staff tightly. “This… doesn’t look like a clean attack. It looks like they turned on each other.”
Damien crouched, inspecting a demon corpse, his finger brushing over the gashes. “Infused beasts. They broke free of control. See here—bite marks. This demon was killed by its own hound.”
Lyone paled. “So they’re unstable?”
“Unstable or disposable,” Damien said grimly. “Either way, someone is experimenting without care for their soldiers.”
He straightened, his expression hard. “We won’t waste what’s left behind.”
With a snap of his fingers, a ripple of blue essence shimmered in the air as he gave a mental thought to his system.
“Summon Luton. Time for her to eat.”
From it, a sphere of gelatinous red mass emerged, pulsing with faint stars of light within. The Stellar Slime.
“Luton,” Damien commanded, his voice firm, “devour everything. Make them disappear.”
The slime quivered, then surged forward, engulfing corpses one by one with startling speed.
Flesh, bone, and even the lingering essence of cores dissolved within its body, absorbed into its shifting mass. Lyone stared, horrified and fascinated, while Arielle looked away, her lips pressed thin.
The sound of Luton’s feeding echoed obscenely in the silence. When it finished, not a single trace of the dead remained. The slime rippled, glowing faintly brighter than before.
Damien dismissed it with a wave and another mental note, the creature vanishing back into the same summoning circle that had brought it forth.
“Even weak cores feed the strong,” Damien said evenly. “And Luton doesn’t discriminate. Remember that, Lyone. Power isn’t about what you choose—it’s about how far you’re willing to reach for it.”
By the time the third night approached, the trail ahead grew unnervingly quiet. The stench of corpses had faded, leaving only the whisper of wind through the trees. Fenrir padded on, ears twitching but not alerting of immediate danger.
Then, as the road curved into a narrow pass, figures emerged.
A line of men stood across the path, weapons drawn but not brandished recklessly. Their formation was tight, disciplined. Unlike bandits, these men did not shout threats or jeer. Their eyes were sharp, their armor marked with the same sigil on every chest—a dark red hawk clutching a spear.
Fenrir growled low in his throat, sensing their intent. Damien raised a hand to still him, his gaze narrowing as he stepped from the carriage.
Fifteen of them, armed and armored, blocking the road. Not ragged thieves. Soldiers.
Damien’s eyes scanned their uniforms, the hawk sigil catching the fading light. Recognition flickered across his face.
“These aren’t bandits,” he murmured. His voice carried low, edged with realization. “They’re something else entirely.”
The leader of the group stepped forward, spear in hand, his eyes locking on Damien with intent too cold for coincidence. “Identify yourselves!”