Truly, the Voidseed was a thing of wonder. Its origins were, of course, more than tragic. They were twisted and painful, but the aid it offered was undeniable, bordering on miraculous. As expected, the absorption of fire energy was slower. My cultivation rate dipped again, and I suspected it would continue to decline with each new elemental affinity I added—two left to go.

No wonder Wyrem was so obsessed with the Dragon Vein. In his world teeming with cultivators, it was more than just a treasure. For someone with only a single elemental alignment, like most humans, it would place them leagues above their peers.

My channels filled quickly with the power of flame, and its presence surged through me with that now-familiar strange, volatile sensation. It bounced around inside me, not unlike a limb waking from numbness. But not the harmless ticklish kind. This was the sharp, uncomfortable kind. 

As the volume of power grew, the Harmonic Foundation’s automatic mechanisms kicked in. Slow but steady, the body’s purification resumed.

With that handled, I shifted my attention inward, focusing on my cores. The new ones was currently stationed above the Nexus.

Right. Same as before. Spin.

It obeyed, just like the Natural Force core had, releasing a stream of frost-touched energy into my Inner Realm. But the moment it came into contact with the volatile, red-orange current of flame… it stalled, like prey sensing a predator. My heart sank.

They hovered near each other for a while, the cold and the hot. Neither advancing, neither blending. My thoughts churned uneasily.

Was fusion really impossible? They were opposites, sure, but… Luna had managed it. Or at least, I thought she had. What would the others do when they reached this stage?

I forced myself to stop spiraling. My body was getting uncomfortably full of energy anyway, so I halted the rotation.

Don’t panic. Try the other core.

My attention shifted toward my original one which was still held fast, coiled in a pulsing, half-living tentacle. I exerted my will, commanding it to move, but it didn’t. Useless.

My heart pounded harder, like a war drum echoing through this strange interior world.

Breathe. Just breathe.

The Voidrace presence usually helped me… and he seemed to hear me when I needed him.

Uh. Hello? Tortured tentacle guy?

Nothing clear, but the roots which were always twitching seemed to pause. A flicker of hesitation in their usual chaotic rhythm. I took that as a response. A maybe.

Right. I want to use my original core, but you're kinda… holding it. Any chance you could let it go?

The grip tightened in a silent refusal.

Don’t get frustrated. There’s probably a reason. Last time I even tried nudging that core away from the new one’s position, my head nearly imploded. Maybe releasing it now would trigger something far worse than just pain.

Fine. Can you do something, then? I want to use my Natural Force. Fire and water aren’t playing nice.

There was a tremor deep within me. A thrum of power and movement.

From one of the larger branches growing from a main stalk, a new bud began to swell. It extended outward, then paused mid-motion almost as if it were waiting for me.

Yeah, yeah. I get it, I sighed inwardly.

I sent in the fire energy I’d just gathered, holding the water back to see if separation would help, but I wasn’t particularly optimistic. Raw flame surged into my Nexus like molten a river, and the new tentacle began inching toward the ice core.

Oh… he’s going to move it again?

My question was answered soon enough. The tentacle’s growth completed, fully wrapping around the icy core, still softly hissing vapor, like it was in a constant state of sublimation. It reached for the sphere, touching it gingerly at first, retreating once, then twice, as though testing its texture or temperature. But as more flame energy fed into it, the tentacle gained confidence, its hesitant movements becoming sure, deliberate. It wrapped the core fully.

Meanwhile, the other tendril, still coiled around my original Force generator, began to shift. It moved in behind the new one, and with a precision that felt strangely coordinated, the two swapped positions. The grip on the Natural Force core loosened—not released, but enough for it to move.

Hmm. Nice.

Thanks, I called inwardly, focusing again.

The newly positioned core began to spin, emanating its neutral energy outward, weaving it into my internal systems. But what happened next reignited my earlier anxiety.

It didn’t fuse.

Not even a little.

Three distinct forces swam through me. Completely separate, refusing to blend like oil, water, and… a different kind of oil, I guess. Similar yet fundamentally incompatible.

WHY?! Water and Natural had fused just fine before!

But here… nothing. The triad of energies continued swirling. Water and Fire actively repelled each other, while Natural drifted between them like an exhausted parent holding two furious toddlers at arm’s length.

Then, without warning, the tentacle loosely coiled around my Natural Force core shifted. It tightened, and began to spin. Slowly at first, then faster, and with the spin came a surge of energy of more Natural Force.

It’s not doing anything. I’ll just focus on fire for now. You can st—

I never finished the thought because something changed.

The power within me, now so dense it felt ready to burst, began to react. The invisible barrier between elements started to bend. Only slightly, only at the edges, but enough to ripple through my entire body. The pitch-black channels running through my system shuddered. Power rumbled through them like thunder in a storm-wracked sky.

The cores swapped again.

Now it was colder energy being generated, spiraling out.

My ink-like channels trembled a second time, but it wasn’t just roots this time. New structures began forming inside them. From the circuits and pathways, root and channels, something grew. Tiny, bristling fibers like villi, minute compared to the twisting root nubs, but alive, sprouted.

Sensing the demand, I resumed feeding energy into my Inner Space.

The fibers grew swiftly, not extending far, but moving in perfect rhythm with one another. Their synchronized pulsing sent waves through me, and from those waves came a sensation I hadn’t expected.

Whirlpools.

Everywhere.

My entire system was more alive than ever now.

The energy began to change color. What once flickered in stark contrast began to merge into something in-between. A hue hovering between polished bronze and that last sliver of dusk, when the sun bathes the sky in flame-kissed gold.

A dusky gold, quietly gleaming. Regal. Not flashy like the raw elements had been, but somehow more complete.

This was something different.

Something new.

Powerful.

I hadn’t even begun full conversion of the Fire Force yet, so this was only the beginning. But I could already tell: once purification completed, once conversion locked in, the result would be unbelievable.

This wasn’t just another step forward.

It was a transcendence.

A qualitative change in power that wasn't simply more, but better.

And it felt exhilarating. A euphoric hum, similar to the seductive edge I’d sensed in corrupted Precursor Energy. Not identical, but close enough to stir something dangerous inside me.

Really, if I triggered an explosion right now…

Could anyone even survive it?

The thought appeared before I could stop it. Its echo bounced through my mind like a toxin. Wrong. It felt wrong the instant I heard it.

What the hell am I thinking?

“Good gods, what is that smell?!” Wyrem shouted suddenly, his voice bursting with manic glee. The sound yanked me even further from the dark spiral I’d been drifting into.

He could smell?

Where the hell have you been? I asked, finally anchoring myself again.

He shuddered into visibility, gliding from his usual station to the swirling storm of my mixed energy. He moved carefully, warily avoiding the thrashing tendrils. But considering they hadn’t hurt him while he was unconscious or hibernating, or whatever, I doubted they’d harm him now.

Trying to unlock something. I’ve been so close, Wyrem explained, sounding moderately disgruntled, his usual irritation bleeding into a current of barely-contained excitement. But with this? Something’s bound to happen.

As he approached, faint wisps of the newly fused energy drifted into his form, negligible to someone my size, but clearly enough for him. He absorbed them like they were nectar.

His inner voice came through muffled, like someone chewing mid-sentence. So, the heck is wrong with you?

Did he…? I mentally groaned, already anticipating the implication.

Please tell me you can’t read my thoughts now. Not like Luna.

He gave a visible shudder as another wave of power entered him. Her? I doubt it. Don’t care that much about you.

Ouch.

But I get glimpses now, he added, a little softer. Same way she started, actually, but trust me, that’s as far as I want to go. Still, the pressure was so strong it snapped me awake. So… what’s going on?

I hesitated for a moment, tempted to keep it to myself. But really, who would that help?

There was a moment, I admitted. Just a flash of one, where I felt the new power and…

Went temporarily nuts? he finished for me—spot-on of course, and not bothering to wait for confirmation. Force is a strange thing, isn’t it? Just being able to influence it is impressive enough. But to insert our will into it? That’s where it gets dangerous. You already know that others’ wills can be embedded into energy to shape or corrupt it.

I drew in a slow, steadying breath. My Beast Will. The Precursor Energy. I knew exactly what he meant.

Exactly, he said, voice gentler now. Now, if you’ll allow me to pretend I know what I’m talking about… All things have an origin. All things have a Will. Even this small, writhing worm inside you. And I imagine… even Force itself.

Images rose unbidden in my mind. Those figures of pure energy, entities that may have created the beasts that shaped, or calmed, the world. What were they? Gods? Force given form?

Force is a creation of power, Wyrem continued. I’ve seen it too many times. The more you absorb, the further you grow... Even the dragons went mad with power.

There was regret in his voice. Almost shame.

I couldn’t help but wonder. How many memories did he still have? How much could he actually see when it came to the dragons? He’d told me before that techniques and knowledge were often locked away from him, but then there were moments like this when he spoke with such raw certainty that I couldn’t tell where the gaps ended and the truth began.

With a final sigh, Wyrem spoke again.

The point is… you are you, but you have to be strong in more than one way. Don’t lose yourself just because you can suddenly pick up a slightly bigger rock. Even if you somehow reached that strange woman’s level… you would still be nothing. Nothing.

He repeated the word with more force, the certainty behind it like a blow to the chest.

Anger flared through me. Not because of what he said, but because I knew he was right. The fury wasn’t for him. It was for the one who destroyed everything. The Great Ancestor—the creature I had sworn to find.

Allowing myself to be fooled by some innate quality of the power surrounding us all momentarily. As he said, I was nothing. The cutting words Wyrem spoke were only said in kindness.

Serith had warned me the Great Ancestor might not be purely evil, but even she spoke of him with unease, always weighing her words. 

But I had no doubt. That thing had no kindness in that thing. No warmth. No empathy. Its actions were not mistakes. They weren’t collateral. They were cruel and deliberate. Maybe its only goal was power. Maybe it was to save the worlds, but with its level of power... Really its reasoning didn’t matter.

What mattered was the blood on its hands.

Trevor’s family.

My siblings.

My neighborhood, reduced to rubble, lying as fractured memories and ash. My only comfort was that Serith had shown me what was left.

Calm down, came the voice inside me again. Never forget the people around you, Peter. I’ve seen too many fall. Not just from failure, but from arrogance... And occasionally me. You’re lucky. You have people watching over you. And even more, your kindness that doesn’t belong in this world. You are you.

The words sank deep.

Growth and change is good, he continued. Becoming more ruthless for the sake of the ones you care for is good, but don’t lose yourself in ruthless adaptation.

He spoke those final words, and with them, the world around me shifted. The pressure receded. My senses returned with the filtered sunlight through trees, the rustle of leaves, and the low hush of wind through the forest.

I smiled.

People had called me kind before. Maybe even naive. But no one had ever told me not to adapt.

Of course, I understood what he meant. He wasn’t asking me to retreat into some idealistic past version of myself. But he was warning me: don’t become what the world wants me to become.

Don’t become like them. Not like the royals or nobility. Not like the other recruits or disinterested attendants. Just me.

Thank you, I said quietly, from the depth of my heart. Old worm.

Dragon, he corrected.

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