CHAPTER 16: A NEW MAN

"Please retrieve the vial of World Essence from your inventory and ingest it," the guide instructed.

Aric complied, pulling out a small flask. When he peered inside, he saw it held barely a couple of drops.

"Now place your hand on your neck, just below the larynx and slightly to the left of the trachea."

"I have not the slightest idea what those words mean," Aric said flatly, glancing at her.

For a moment, he could have sworn the guide sighed. Floating closer, she reached out and touched a point on his neck. He felt a cool, fleeting sensation there.

"Here. Place your hand here."

"Okay...?" Aric obeyed, waiting for what came next.

"Now strike that spot as hard as you can."

"...What?"

"Using your finger, strike that point as hard as you can," she repeated.

Confused but determined, Aric did as told. He jabbed the spot with all the force he could muster. Pain lanced through his throat—yet no sound left his lips.

"You have temporarily paralyzed specific nerves, rendering the vocal cords incapable of vibrating. Thus, you cannot produce sound. This step is necessary, as you are going to scream during the process. A lot. Silence is required."

Even with his resolve, Aric felt a chill at how clinical, almost casual, her explanation was.

The prince nodded.

"Now, ingest the contents of the vial and brace yourself."

Without hesitation, Aric tipped the vial to his lips. The liquid was cold—so cold it burned—sliding down his throat like shards of ice. Within moments, a surge of ki erupted inside him, so violent it nearly knocked him unconscious. Then the pain struck.

It began as a searing burn in his core, then spread, consuming him. The ki was not flowing—it was ravaging. It tore him apart from within, carving new channels through his body with brutal, merciless force. It was like molten lava forced through every vein, nerve, and fiber.

Aric’s vision blurred. His body convulsed, muscles locking in agony. Instinct demanded he scream, to vent the agony clawing at his chest—but no sound came. His own hand had stolen that release. All he could do was endure.

His fingers clawed at the ground, nails splitting as they dug into the floor. Sweat drenched him, soaking his clothes. Every breath came ragged, shallow, desperate.

Each second was an eternity. For a fleeting, terrifying moment, he wondered if this was how it ended—not slain by enemies, but consumed by his own ambition.

Yet deep inside the torment, he felt something—an ember of strength, raw and immeasurable. As the channels opened, ki began to flow. Chaotic. Overwhelming. But undeniably powerful.

The pain had purpose. This was no death throe. It was rebirth.

Hours bled away like centuries. At last, the agony ebbed, leaving him trembling, drained, but alive. The Essence had settled into him, its power bound to his core. Aric lay gasping, but victorious.

His eyes opened. The system’s glow still hovered before him, but his vision was sharper, his mind clearer.

He failed to realize, however, that the energy within him was unstable—preying on his being, threatening to devour him if left untamed.

"Next," the guide’s voice cut through the haze, "retrieve the Bladed Rock and the poison vial."

Aric forced himself upright and obeyed.

"Now coat the blade with the poison and stab yourself in the heart. This must be done immediately. Every second wasted lowers your chance of survival."

The words were brutal. Worse, he had no time to argue.

He smashed the vial against the stone shard, drenching the jagged blade in venom. Gripping it with white-knuckled determination, he drew in one sharp breath—then plunged it into his own heart.

The world vanished.

Everything collapsed into blackness. Aric drifted in a void of nothingness, eerily familiar to the moment he died in his past life.

’So... I died.’

No—this was worse. This time, he had no soul. Even that had been stripped away. Nothing remained but the faint, fragile echo of consciousness.

He was, in truth, less than dead.

Then, warmth. A fleeting flicker, alien and forgotten—like a memory of being alive. It vanished as soon as it came, swallowed by the abyss.

’Is this where you stop?’

The voice could have been another’s, or his own. It didn’t matter.

’What do you live for? What keeps you moving forward?’

’You blamed fate. You blamed the world. Who will you blame now?’

’You cannot die here. I cannot die here. Not yet.’

Aric flailed, though he had no body. He screamed, though he had no voice. His protests dissolved into silence—but with every struggle, every denial of this end, the warmth returned. Stronger. Brighter.

It surged, engulfing him whole.

And in that defiance, he was reborn.

[You have obtained the Martial God Foundation.]