It seemed I had rushed things. Though, for some reason, I suspected this fat slab of pork had simply decided to pick on me. Judging by the thoughtful look on his partner’s face, that was indeed the case. What a swine—I’ll roast him personally once I regain enough strength!
“Valera, quit whining already!” the brute barked, shoving the "counter" into the fat man's hands with force. “Here, if you’re so eager, do it yourself!”
“Now that’s more like it,” the slab chuckled nastily, sorting through the crystals without the slightest hint of offense. “This one will do just fine for fakers like him!”
Selecting an unusually large crystal, the porker wasted no time seeking his partner’s approval and immediately shoved it into my hand.
This was something else entirely—I actually had to concentrate to avoid losing even a fragment of my already scarce energy. That bastard had clearly picked the most powerful crystal, one meant for active mages, not weaklings like me.
I needed to act quickly, before anyone realized I could withstand even this level of extraction. These two dimwits obviously had a general idea of their crystals’ capabilities, so they’d take measures the moment they suspected anything was amiss.
Feigning a realistic response to sudden magical depletion, I instantly went pale and began to collapse forward, coughing up blood. To my satisfaction, I managed to spit directly into the fatso’s smug face as he leaned toward me.
“Have you lost your mind, Valera?!” Vasya roared, shoving his partner aside and snatching the crystal from my hand. “I told you—half-corpses are for Marcus! He’s going to hold us personally accountable for every accidental death! Both of us, you idiot!”
Vasya delivered a meaty punch to Valera’s stomach, causing the impossible—the porker actually doubled over. The brute turned to me, catching me before I hit the ground, and propped me back into a seated position. Satisfied that I was still alive, he exhaled in relief.
It seemed they truly cared about prisoners dying for reasons other than their own.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
As Vasya checked me over, I made sure to keep siphoning energy from him. He had several times more than the fat one. It seemed Vasya was either a mage or close to developing into one. Judging by his mana reserves, his cores were still alive, albeit weak, meaning his central magical pillar was functional, if only barely.
“He’ll live,” Valera spat, wiping his face with his sleeve and glaring at me with hatred. “At least we verified he’s empty.”
“You’ll push your luck too far one day,” Vasya rumbled sternly, releasing me. “And you’d better believe I’ll report everything as it is—I’m not covering for your sorry hide!”
Bickering, the two finally left my cell. Despite the draining of the pseudo-crystal, I felt noticeably better after that generous session of vampirism. At this rate, I’d regain some semblance of working condition even faster than expected.
There was still an abundance of necrotic energy in this place, so I immediately channeled the excess cursed energy into my core to gradually absorb it. Ensuring the guards were truly gone, I repeated the procedure of compressing air, this time clearing out nearly half the chamber’s volume.
It took me about an hour, thoroughly overloading my core, which now burned with exertion. Unfortunately, the real capabilities of this body were so pitiful that all I could manage was a feeble “ash sneeze,” let alone actual control!
Even the transmutation core was practically useless without cursed energy. As I’d already tested, my current abilities in a normal state could barely siphon a sliver of life force from another weakling, nothing more.
So, as much as I’d like to preserve my new body, I’d have to rely heavily on my demonic privileges for now. After all, cursed energy reserves were what allowed demons to perform feats impossible for their mortal hosts.
That said, this was the first time I found myself in a situation where I genuinely needed to care for a human body—especially its still-functioning cores. Usually, I was summoned straight into battle, with no time to worry about such trifles—just burn everything alive until the summoner’s cores were completely fried.
In this case, it would have been far wiser to develop slowly and steadily, avoiding core overload until the body adjusted to its newfound power. But the situation didn’t allow for such a luxury. Time wasn’t on my side, so I chose to ignore the pulsating pain in my core and continued accumulating energy.
Having cleared the chamber and part of the corridor outside the door of all traces of necrotic energy, I was once again nearly empty but quite pleased with the results.
My focus was still in the earliest stage of development and was nearly full, meaning I wouldn’t be able to absorb more necrotic energy even if I tried. Even so, my efforts would surely pay off handsomely in the long run!
Of course, converting one type of energy into another would take a lot of time, but it was far better than burning my own mana to create cursed energy at a pitifully inefficient rate. That would be like biting my own nails to stave off hunger!
And it’s not like I had anywhere to rush now. I’d done everything I could for the moment, so I could afford to relax a bit.
A pleasant bonus was the noticeable change in the “atmosphere” of my cell. With the air cleared of necrotic energy, breathing was easier, and my natural recovery rate improved slightly.
For now, I directed the life force I’d drained from the guards toward healing rather than processing. The beatings and near-fatal exhaustion of this body hadn’t gone anywhere. To recover, alongside replenishing life force, rest and proper sleep were the best options—at least as much as possible in these conditions.
Spending the remaining fragments of energy to put my body into the necessary state, I drifted back into sleep once more.