*Same location, same time*
*The Gnome Statue*
*Oluvert, the Chewing Gnome*
“Do not kill him!” roared Oluvert in fury to the follower who had come running at the commotion. The man nodded nervously before immediately shouting commands to his subordinates.
“That bastard Marcus! What an idiot!” Oluvert seethed with rage, cursing the fact that his follower was already dead. He would have gladly killed him all over again! “How?! How, I ask you?! How does one lose control while working with *my* crystals?!”
For the Chewing Gnome, who prided himself on his creations, the explosion was a personal insult. Imagine it—a warrior, an experienced mage, killed by the detonation of stable crystals! Crafted by a god himself, these crystals were flawless, and yet that pathetic human managed to blow them all up.
“You…” Oluvert growled, watching as Dmitry D'Vulkanov was dragged back to his cell. “You’ll pay for this, I promise you!”
The boy was partly to blame for the incident, though to a much lesser degree. It wasn’t surprising that even someone as resilient and audacious as him, after fifteen hours of torture, would snap and attempt to escape. A clumsy, doomed effort from the start, but still predictable.
Damn it, the boy could barely stand, and yet he burst out of the cocoon, not even toward the exit, but tried to hide behind Oluvert’s own statue. How many times had they seen this exact scenario play out? Dozens! How could anyone lose control in such a situation?
Oluvert felt even more disappointed in his followers, most of whom were indeed hopeless degenerates.
---
*The Catacombs Beneath the Asylum, Half an Hour Later*
*Dmitry D'Vulkanov’s Cell*
*Vulkan*
“Get off, scum,” spat Fatso Two angrily, shrugging me off his shoulder before grumbling to his companion. “Heavy bastard. So we weren’t imagining it.”
I hit the stone floor with a thud but quietly chuckled in response, making sure it was noticeable. The focus point was finally close, and I immediately absorbed all the cursed energy it had processed. Life suddenly felt significantly easier. Feeling emboldened, I decided to provoke my escorts.
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“Look at him, half-dead and still laughing at us!” snarled Fatso One. “Maybe we should, you know, finish him off?”
“No,” Fatso Two cut him off sharply. “We were told to deliver him alive.”
“And we *did* deliver him alive,” Fatso One argued, not missing the chance to kick me again—unfortunately for him, it wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped. “Alive? Check. For now…”
“Listen, buddy, cut it out, I’m telling you!” Fatso Two barked, clearly irritated. “You get me? Everyone saw he was alive when we brought him in. Everyone heard the order. And the fact that he’s still alive now? Only we see that. We need to find those idiots to make sure his life stops being *our* problem.”
“Ugh,” Fatso One grimaced. “Yeah, fair point.” He sighed before adding, “Shame though. He pisses me off. I’d love to finish him…”
“Oh-ho, who said we *won’t* do that?” Fatso Two sneered, letting out a slimy chuckle. “We’ll dump him on Vasya and Valera, and then once they’re asleep, we’ll drop by to pay this half-corpse a visit. No need to hand the keys back immediately!”
“Now that’s more like it!” Fatso One rubbed his hands together in glee but then seemed to realize I was hearing every word. Lowering his voice slightly, he muttered, “You sure it’s fine to discuss this in front of him?”
“Pfft,” Fatso Two laughed, landing a heavy punch squarely on my jaw. The bastard even managed to dislodge it—clearly not his first time pulling this stunt. “It’s fine. See? He won’t be talking anytime soon, and those two won’t bother listening to his groans. Let’s go!”
And with that, they left, slamming the door shut and locking it with a double turn. As if I was going anywhere in this condition. Then again, why would I? They’d be back, and unofficially at that. Now *that* was a gift I couldn’t have planned better myself.
Not long after, the familiar guards returned, administering their usual dose of well-placed kicks in response to my provocations. All it took was a splash of blood at the fat one’s face—an easy feat given that I had plenty of it freely flowing right now.
The punch to my jaw had reopened some of my not-yet-healed wounds, but that didn’t matter much. With this kind of energy influx, recovering to a relatively functional state would take five or six hours at most. Internal injuries that didn’t affect my channels were much easier to heal than regrowing organs or limbs from scratch.
Once the guards left, I immediately got to work on my new plan. During my absence, enough cursed energy had accumulated to invest in further necrotic absorption. Besides, my fourth core had nearly “cooled,” allowing me to regain control over the ash it produced.
Moreover, even without my physical presence, the connection to the seal had noticeably strengthened. I could now sense the focus point from about ten meters away, which meant I could likely move just as far from my body in spectral form.
Not waiting for Dima to regain consciousness, I simply slumped against the cold door of the cell and forcibly handed over control to him. The body went limp, fully relaxed, and nearly toppled over, but that didn’t matter. The key thing was that I successfully shifted into my spectral form.
Last time, I hadn’t had the chance to properly observe myself, let alone study my abilities. And I had to admit, I looked… imposing! A giant with sharply defined, stone-like muscles the color of hardened lava...
Ha! If only. No, part of my appearance remained unchanged. The only real difference was a slightly darker skin tone and maybe ten extra kilos of muscle. Give it a couple of months, and Dima’s real body would easily surpass my current spectral form in sheer presence. Then again, by that time, I should have significantly restored my own power as well!
After evaluating my appearance, I decided to test my capabilities. I started with my gifts, channeling cursed energy into my cores. The process took barely a few minutes, and the results were more than satisfying!
So, what’s the verdict? Same tools, different medium. No energy loss, no difference when using the focus point, and my power was identical to using my gifts directly from the body. In essence, my body was now a kind of intermediary. Perfect—this, I could work with!