Their smile slipped a bit. "The Bloodline? Shouldn't that wait until after you started Cultivating?"

"Why?" Morgan's perpetual frown deepened at the unexpected hesitance. "Eris said I could use it without Aether, refined or otherwise. It runs on my Essence instead, hence why I took it for my Cultivation research."

"Uh…" Ego looked as perplexed as he did. "Did the Patron tell you what Essence was?"

"Not exactly, but I've been able to piece it together from context clues. Essence is just my life force, right? It's the sand in my hourglass that has yet to fall. I'll admit that spending some sand every time I use the Bloodline is alarming, but as long as I don't spend it all, I should be fine. Once I've cracked Aether's secrets, I should be able to replace what I've lost."

"No, you can't! That's not how it works!" The Spirit got worked up again, dispelling all his hard work. "Essence isn't time, lifeforce, or anything as mundane as a fuel source. A person's Essence is their literal Soul, their very being. Each time Essence is spent, a part of what makes you, you, is permanently lost because it is finite. You can't replace what you've lost. This Bloodline will devour you gradually, making you more hollow and less Morgan."

"... You've lost me." The Scientist turned to fully face them and sat with his legs crisscrossed on the log. "If I compare my Soul to written music, losing Essence is like erasing notes off the music sheet. Every note removed changes the song for the worse by making it less coherent. Eventually, if I keep using the Bloodline, then the sheet will read more like noise than music. But if the Soul is finite, then why would being able to Cultivate help increase longevity?"

"Huh, music. That's actually not a bad comparison." Ego muttered before mirroring their student's sitting posture. "Alright, Professor, what you need to know first is that while nobody can create Essence, it can be bolstered with Aether. The cosmic energy will increase the potency of your Soul-stuff. Let's go back to your music sheet example. As you are right now, using your Bloodline for one minute costs a single note to be fully erased. However, when the sheet is charged with Aether, a minute of Bloodline use might only blur a note slightly."

"Ah." He grunted with a nod. "With Aether bolstering my Soul, I'll get more bang for my buck. Using the Bloodline now will be incredibly inefficient, as the Soul lost will be at its absolute peak."

"Exactly my point." The Monk let out a sigh of relief that definitely had to be for dramatic effect. "So you're going to wait before using the Bloodline?"

"Don't be ridiculous; of course, I'm still going to use it now." Morgan snorted. "The explanation is appreciated, but I knew death was a possibility from the start. We'll have to set up some safety measures in the protocol to limit the damage done to the Soul."

"Safety mea-" The Monk started to repeat in disbelief before disappearing entirely from sight.

[Ego?] He projected when the Spirit could not be located anywhere within their supposed range.

There was no response, at least at first. Then the Scientist became aware of a strange buzzing noise in the far distance. It almost sounded like someone was ranting incoherently in the distance.

Morgan sat up and walked the perimeter around the log to see if he could determine the direction of the noise. The quick jaunt provided no hint, as the sound remained the same volume no matter where he went. However, he did step into something interesting.

His right foot seemingly plunged beneath the mossy ground near the stump that once bore the massive log. Decades of hiking through rugged terrain kicked in, and hands immediately grabbed hold of the nearest sapling. Both hands slid down the damp bark even with their iron grip, earning him several cuts and more than a few splinters. By the time he stopped, his leg had sunk to just above the knee. Now that the Scientist was low to the ground, he saw the fog and fallen foliage had conspired together to hide an opening into the earth. A naturally formed pit trap. Classy.

Cold arms hooked under his pits just as the buzzing ceased altogether. When Morgan saw the limbs were as black as night, he relaxed and allowed himself to be hoisted up.

"Are you okay?" Asked the Monk as they fussed over him like a mother hen, brushing away the dirt and leaves clinging to his pants. "I can't go off ranting for two minutes without something happening."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Morgan snorted but made no move to stop them until they were satisfied. "Thanks for the concern…"

"Happy to help," Ego sighed.

They returned to their seats, carefully giving the stump a wide berth, yet neither moved to sit. The Professor leaned against the log and checked on Momo, who, despite the fall, remained sleeping on his right breast. The Spirit paced in circles, constantly fidgeting with their mala beads.

All around them, the alien island remained unbothered by the strange beings intruding on its misty terrain. No animals cried in the distance, no insects chirped for attention, only the faint sound of rustling willow leaves broke the static ambiance. Strangely, what moved the leaves wasn't the wind but the fog itself. Droplets of fog condensed until reaching the size of a golf ball, when the collected weight proved too much for the leaf.

Morgan watched one such event play out on a branch overhead and waited eagerly with cupped hands outstretched to catch a particularly fat drop. He caught it and found that the droppplet weighed almost nothing despite keeping its liquid-like state. He doubted he'd even noticed its presence if not for the slight cold sensation in his palm. From what the Scientist could tell, what rolled his hands was really vapor, pretending to be water.

If the fog weighed so little, then why did it fall off the leaves in the first place? Morgan allowed the drop to fall on a patch of moss, but instead of rolling right off, it absorbed the fog drop like a sponge.

Interesting.

"What did the Bodhisattva tell you about the Bloodline?" Ego finally asked, halting their pacing and back facing him. "What does it do?"

"She called it Perception of the Stone Sage," Morgan answered. He noticed Ego's cassock ripple in his peripheral vision as if a private breeze had blown through. "Eris didn't say much about the previous owner other than they were incredibly infamous back in the day. Apparently, it's an ocular enhancement that gave this mysterious troublemaker insight into the true nature of the Dao. The Cultivator died, but the Bloodline found its way into her position."

"My, my." They turned to him and rolled their eyes. "Such a valuable and priceless gift. No wonder she was so willing to pawn it off to you like a hot stereo." The Monk considers him for a long moment before coming to some internal conclusion. "As a Spirit, I can monitor your Soul while you test out the Bloodline. However, you deserve to know what's really at stake here. When a being dies, their Soul is returned to the grand cycle of Samsara, where it will eventually be reborn."

"Time out." Demanded the Earthling, as his world had just been rocked to the very foundations. "Not only is there an afterlife, but it's reincarnation?"

"It is in Vajrayana." They deadpanned, obviously not willing to indulge on a philosophical tangent. "An afterlife shouldn't really be news to you by now. If there are Souls, they must go somewhere when the Body dies and the Mind dissipates. That is if the Soul isn't too damaged to make the trip. I don't know if there is another destined destination waiting for Earthlings when they die. I do know that if you lose too much of yourself, you'll risk total oblivion. I mean it. There will be no after, let alone an afterlife."

"Hmm." hummed Morgan, not sure whether the information itself or the fact that it was common knowledge disturbed him more.

Ego planted themselves right before him and gently placed a hand on each shoulder. "Now that you have all the information, are you sure you want to do this?"

Oblivion. Out of all the endings conceived by humanity, no other ever struck such fear in his people's hearts as that. Just mentioning such a fate could send people into nightmarish spirals of existential despair. It was easy to question the point of anything when nothing waited at the end.

So, was he sure?

*Th-Thump, Th-Thump*

As an agnostic, the Professor always believed what happened after death was going to be a surprise and that oblivion was a real possibility. The dice roll had never truly bothered him. Granted, that was before a literal Spirit rudely dropped some significant spoilers. Yes, the Spirit in question was a well-meaning amnesiac from a different Universe, so any peeks behind the veil should be scrutinized. Still, their credibility remained solid until proven otherwise.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

But was he sure?

*Th-Thump, Th-Thump*

The Scientist could hold off on using the Bloodline in his initial research. If no progress could be made, he could simply obtain a Class first and then use the Bloodline. Just as the original owner had likely done. His goal of crafting his own Cultivation Method or Tantra was considered impossible in the first place. Eris thought the same and made that quite clear in their deal. Perspective of the Stone Sage was a tool, not a guarantee of success. Only an idiot would take such a risk.

Knowing all that, was he sure that this was what he wanted?

*Th-Thump, Th-Thump*

So… that's how it was to be. The Earthling was only human in the end.

"Yes," Morgan answered with solid conviction and a calm heart. "I am."

"I understand." Ego accepted the decision without condoning or condemning it. They stepped to the side, content with their role.

He closed his eyes and thought back to that conversation held in secret, where only the false stars could hear. Eris had assured her favorite Mortal that interacting with the Bloodline would be as natural as using a limb. It was already a part of his being, and Morgan needed only to reach out for that new addition of his Soul. The Professor decided to take the near-immortal at her word. If Perspective of the Stone Sage was an ocular enhancement, then that would mean his sight was already enhanced. But they were partially obscured, protected by a second pair of translucent eyelids so his Essence wouldn't be wasted.

Morgan opened his eyes; the foggy forest of willows and moss remained unchanged. Then he willed those eyes to be fully open, and the world became a shade darker, almost as if he'd put on a pair of sunglasses. That minor change was utterly forgotten when the real show began.

Lights. Billions and maybe trillions of little dust-sized motes of light danced through the air like luminescent snowflakes in a blizzard. From his observations, every mote produced white, gray, or black light. The motes only moved in large synchronized groups based on color. Morgan watched fast-paced black streams rush inhibited over the forest floor; he followed white lackadaisical clouds as they floated up past the canopy as if the willows weren't even there. Many isolated bunches of gray motes would move chaotically, bobbing left, dashing right, while others seemed fixed in place. When he turned, he saw a continuous vortex of different colored motes being pulled into the earth over where the hold was by the stump.

The Scientist might have tried to investigate the hole if this endless swarm of monochromatic fireflies hadn't blinded him to everything. Hell, he couldn't even see his arm waving centimeters in front of his face, even when he squinted at-

Oh?

Once again, his view of reality shifted dramatically. The visual cacophony of airborne TV static disappeared, plunging the world back into the unnatural darkness, allowing him to see his arm. At least, he's pretty sure it's his hand. What wiggled its fingers at him was something resembling an X-ray. Where there should be flesh, and the end of a lab coat sleeve was a solid mass of total black, it was as if he'd been transformed into a living 3D silhouette. Instead of bones, his enhanced vision revealed glowing green plant-like roots sprouting all through the limb, and the same was likely true for the entire body. He brought the appendage in for a closer inspection and found the slow, dull, pulsating green roots penetrated muscle and bone but stopped right at the skin.

As the Professor moved the hand back, a flicker of muted red just above the knuckle caught his attention. When his attention was directed there, the roots faded before the entire surface of his skin became enveloped in a hazy blanket of the same muted red. This wild barrier moved like waves of forest fires burning both inwards and outwards with no discernible pattern to be found.

Could there be more secrets hidden within Morgan?

The Bloodline must react to his will, for the fires faded from his skin. Morgan looked excitedly for a third colored light within him, yet nothing seemed to pop out at him. He might have given up if a tiny wisp of blue hadn't drifted into and out of the upper right edge of his vision. He craned his neck in that direction but found nothing. Another bit of blue peeked the periphery of his left eye, and a hunch was born. Morgan pulled out his cell phone, aware the batteries would be dead, but the screen could pass as a makeshift mirror.

The hunch was right on the money as a third group of lights could be seen in the reflection. Blue, glowing vapor in a single thin band rotated lazily behind his skull. Morgan rotated his head, and sure enough, the vapor disk moved perfectly in time with him, its position fixed. The band reminded him of the rings adoring Saturn if they were perpendicular to the planet's equator.

Rings? The errant thought directed Morgan's hungry gaze to the Dimensional Ring on the hand holding the phone. The ring's outline was nearly indiscernible from the finger's base, and disappointment caused him to purse his lips. That piece of jewelry was a proper Artifact, a gift from a divinity. Surely, there must be something interesting for his Bloodline to show him. Morgan brought the ring right up to his face and will his-

Success! Inscribed all over the ring… Inscribed over the surface of the Dimensional Ring were hundreds of… of tiny Ruins that pulsed an intense… blue just like the…

Dear god, the Professor was so tired. All the day's excitement and lack of sleep must have… must have… Must have what? What was he doing again?

Ah yes, the ring. The Ruins glowed with the same shade of vapor blue that the band behind his head seemed to be made from. He'll have to-

Who was screaming at him?- He'll have to… write down… the possible connection… Right after, he takes a nice nap on the soft mossy floor-

[Morgan!] Roared Ego, their mental cry barely getting through the fatigue. [Turn it…] But their voice was lost in the mental fog descending rapidly over the Mortal.

The bleary-eyed Human looked over to see what the pissed-off Spirit was yelling at him for this time. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he stared in blank incomprehension. The Monk had become a blazing configuration of flickering red haze that waved and jumped for his attention. Ego lacked any structure resembling a blue band or pulsating roots, but their fiery barrier more than compensated for the missing pieces. Theirs flickered in different shades of red, bouncing constantly from red-yellow and red-orange with an intensity several times brighter than Morgan's pitiful cloak of embers.

Why was that?

In his darkening mind, dozens of theories sparked brilliantly into existence like molten scales set free by a blacksmith's hammer. Many were extinguished before igniting any more profound speculation, the arctic environment of ignorance snuffing out their fiery potential. Only a single theory managed to find kindling in the sanctuary of the Professor's knowledge of Spirit anatomy. Morgan softly blew deductions and hypothetical scenarios to feed the nascent flame, and it exploded with volcanic implications. The resulting hypothesis burned onto his waning psyche the perfect test.

Again, Morgan actively willed the Bloodline to display what he wished, and the free-floating light motes returned. However, in this go around, only the motes in Ego's immediate vicinity were allowed to be shown. Instantly, he noted an almost complete lack of gray lights surrounding them while the black streams and white clouds seemed to be in full attendance. On a hunch, those motes were filtered out as well. Nothing could be seen until the flaming Monk stepped forward, and a soft-ball cluster of gray motes appeared.

Even as the Spirit grabbed the Mortal's shoulder, Morgan watched in vindication as the gray cluster was suddenly sucked into Ego's Avatar. If that wasn't enough confirmation, a minuscule flare of red haze shot from them and seemed to join his own. Taking everything into account, the evidence outright screamed that the motes of light are really-

*SMACK!* The sound was felt far more than it was heard.

"Gah!?" Grunted Morgan, utterly bewildered after the Spirit's backhand to his cheek.

[Turn Off, The Bloodline!] Projected Ego slowly and loudly, shaking Morgan's shoulders with every word, [It's Killing You! TURN. IT. OFF!!!]

Oh shit, that's right. He'd forgotten that little tidbit.

Morgan willed the proactive lids to obscure the actual state of reality, and the foggy forest returned.

"That was close." He sniffed, giving Ego a nod of appreciation. "Thanks Ego, I got distracted there. Next time, we should-"

But the mention of a next time proved too much for his partner as their arm cocked back and the hand balled up into a fist. Training took over, and Morgan guarded his head and chest as the Monk unleashed a flurry of punches.

In truth, guarding was unnecessary. Not only were the strikes weaker than what a child could produce, each one was purposely aimed at his raised arms. He could have ignored the blows, and he doubted a single bruise would bloom. However, the Professor didn't dare lower his guard; such a disrespect was unthinkable.

[You idiot!] Snarled Ego directly into his mind. [Fool! Moron! You little son of - AHH!] They screamed in fury as they delivered the final blow. They stood there huffing and puffing, so angry they forgot they didn't need to breathe.

When no more attacks came, Morgan lowered his guard. At the same time, Momo poked her head up her shoulder. When the Princess saw who had unleashed the barrage, she began to chirp out of outrage.

"No, girl." Soothed the Professor, his finger scratching under her chin. "I deserved that." When she quieted down, he locked eyes with Ego. "I am sorry."

"Sorry!?" They hissed aloud, fresh tears welling up before they were whipped away with a sleeve. "For what? For ignoring me until I hit you or for being a suicidal moron?!"

"Both, but I'm mainly apologizing for scaring you. I got distracted, lost in the wonders around me like a rookie in the jungle. I didn't even realize anything was wrong until you slapped me. So thank you for pulling me back from the brink."

"It wouldn't be the first time this week." Ego sniffed and shoved their hands into the cassock sleeves. "Your eyes change when the Bloodline is active. You'll have to cover them with something whenever you use it around other Cultivators. The sclera went black, and the iris became blood red. I doubt anyone would care, but we can't risk some old monster of a Cultivator recognizing those eyes from a wanted poster."

They changed? Morgan made a mental note to take a picture for him to see. It would be interesting to see what he looked like with matching eyes. He only wished the transformation weren't so edgy.

"Agreed." He nodded before craning his neck to peer over at the hole, Eris's hint of something interesting sparking an idea. The hole wasn't just a hole. "Come on, I'll tell you everything I saw while cleaning."

He moved past the sputtering Monk and started clearing the area.