Chapter Thirty-Four

Jackson got a real close look at the minotaur when it tried to gore him with one of its wicked dark horns. They spiraled from its head like gleaming dark shards out of some gothic horror nightmare. The creature stood massive, at least eight feet tall, covered in fur the color of night, with muscles rippling underneath like an agitated pond. Its cloven hooves shone, as if made from polished obsidian, but it was the eyes that really stood out. Gleaming orbs of putrid yellow hate, as if someone had taken a brush dipped in vomit and painted its eyes.

It moved surprisingly fast—faster than Jackson felt it had any right to be. One might have expected him to dodge out of the way, perhaps distract the beast or perform some acrobatic feat to leap onto its back and sink his fangs into it, draining it as he had other monsters.

Instead, Jackson allowed the monster to gore him, moving only enough so that its leftmost horn pierced through his shoulder. Blood fountained from the wound, sharp, unrelenting pain blooming throughout his upper body. Lazarus had somehow closed down their notifications, but Jackson could feel his phoenix regeneration kicking in, the wound already beginning to heal. It was a marked improvement over his minor regeneration, a marvel in itself, but he pushed those thoughts aside for now. What mattered was that it worked.

“Now, Melanie!” Jackson shouted.

The ranger swiftly produced a brilliant emerald bow, nature's touch weaving near instantly. A giant, darker green arrow pulsated into existence on the bow, glowing with an eerie green light. The minotaur started to shake, attempting to buck Jackson off, but he held firm. He felt an ebon eruption—a hungry cloak of darkness, a void formed around him. It behaved almost like his manifested aura but with a different effect. Suddenly, everything around him became clearer; he could hear the monster's breathing as if it were in his ear, smell the sweet blood pulsing through its veins.

He sensed nerve clusters all over its body, knew where its major arteries were, and understood where it would hurt the most. Strength surged through him—powerful strength, more than enough to rival the beast. When it tried to buck him, Jackson seized its head and with a casual flex of his legs, kept it firmly grounded.

Melanie's arrow, humming with power, struck the minotaur's back like a falling meteor. For a brief moment, Jackson caught the scent of a forest after rain before thunder boomed through the air, signaling the storm. The minotaur screeched in agony as Jackson yanked its head back, its horn sliding out of his shoulder, drenched in his blood. The wound closed a few moments later, revealing smooth, pale skin through the torn cloth.

With minimal effort, Jackson hurled the minotaur across the arena. From the stands, Lazarus clapped.

“Brilliant! But I don't think it's finished yet, children.”

He was right. The minotaur crashed into the ground, shaking the arena, but it rose to its feet a moment later. Clearly in pain, its breath came hard, like a steam engine, but it was far from defeated. It emphasized this by conjuring a giant, gleaming ruby-red axe from thin air. The weapon looked wicked, as though forged from brimstone in the depths of hell itself, crackling with hellish lightning.

Jackson could feel the strain of maintaining his ebon eruption. He could sustain it, but not for long—five minutes in battle was significant, but it would drain faster if he used other weaves or skills. Fortunately, he wasn’t alone. Melanie fired another arrow at the axe-wielding beast, this time a brilliant silver-gray one that split into six as a wolf's howl split the air. The minotaur, a swift creature, spun its axe, managing to block some but not all of the arrows. They struck it, blood spurting from its dark fur. It howled in pain, its bellow shaking the arena's walls.

Jackson didn’t give it a chance to recover. He propelled himself toward the beast like a rocket. He could see nerve clusters pulsing on its side. Dodging the vicious swing of its massive axe—the lightning still grazed him, the pain immense—he didn’t let it distract him. He punched into a cluster of nerves.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

The minotaur froze, its body rigid, and its axe fell from its hands, clattering to the ground. As the creature collapsed, Jackson stood over it, dismissing the ebon eruption. He stared into its putrid yellow eyes, and for a moment, saw something other than hate and rage—fear.

He won't say that it made him hesitate, that he ended it quickly and painlessly right there. It didn’t make him pause. It didn’t make him end it painlessly.

It made him hungry.

Stepping behind the beast, Jackson gripped its right horn and twisted its head to the side. It bleated weakly. Parting its dark fur, Jackson's eyes locked on the pulsing vein in its neck. He opened his mouth, and with the speed and force of a striking viper, he bit down.

A sweet, hot liquid burst into his mouth, and he began to drink. The sweetness of its blood faded, replaced by a savory flavor that danced on his tongue, warmed his throat, and replenished his mana. Power surged through him, relaxing every muscle. He groaned contentedly and fed faster.

The minotaur had long since stopped struggling, though Jackson hadn’t paid much attention to begin with. Eventually, it grew still, life drained from its veins. He lifted his head, sighing contentedly. Then, blinking, he backed away from the beast. Melanie looked at him, her expression unreadable and uncertain. He wasn’t afraid, but weary, questioning if he was okay.

He shook his head at her, and suddenly Lazarus appeared, a bright smile on his face.

“You need to stop treating yourself like a monster, my fledgling. Feeding is part of who you are. Is it wrong to enjoy a meal from time to time? Of course not! This was a monster trying its best to kill you. Relax. Now, you two, manifest your auras, reach out towards the beast, feel for its spirit, and absorb it into your own. Chop chop! I’ve delayed the spirits' departure for a bit, but eventually, it will fade entirely no matter what I do.”

Melanie sat down, and Jackson took a breath before doing the same. They manifested their auras more swiftly than before, yet reaching out proved more challenging for him. Melanie clearly understood the secret, and Lazarus eventually instructed her to cease absorbing spirits so as not to get too far ahead.

He also strictly prohibited her from telling him how she did it. She would offer him an apologetic smile, which only served to frustrate him further. Then they fought more monsters. It wasn’t a total waste; Jackson could feel his skills improving.

The blood lightning surge was particularly devastating. The beam of lightning hummed with power, warping the air as if it were breaking down reality. It didn’t disintegrate the monsters it blasted, nor did it visibly destroy them; it unraveled them, as if unmaking them at a fundamental level. It had its drawbacks, though—it consumed a vast amount of mana, and he could only use it twice before being nearly drained. He had to feed to replenish himself or soak in the hot spring now located behind the arena.

Certain monsters were resistant to it or could block it. Jackson couldn’t rely on it to dispatch his foes easily every time. Still, it was an incredibly potent weave, and he resolved to level it as much as possible, hoping to reduce its mana cost or enhance its power even further.

He also frequently used ebon eruption for the same reasons, particularly effective with his sanguinary arts. As he leveled the weave—although he couldn’t see its level—he sensed the mistakes in his forms. Quickly rectifying them, he found that a few of Lazarus’s summoned monsters proved quite challenging.

He would have been absurdly pleased with his progress if not for his inability to absorb spirits. He pushed and struggled with his aura, straining to expand it. Finally, he decided to reassess. Taking several deep breaths, he allowed himself to attain calmness and thought about the problem. Brute force hadn’t worked; he had tried that because seizing onto his spirit had been effective for him. Something else was clearly needed to expand it and absorb the spirit.

Mana responded to his will, intent, and imagination. When he wove a weave together, he used intent and imagination, and the mana responded. Spirit didn’t seem to function in the same way, but what if it did, at least in part? Manifesting his aura, he willed it to expand not through force, but simple will, employing his imagination as he did with mana.

His aura surged forward, responding to his will as easily as mana did. Like the maw of a hungry beast, it enveloped the dead monster and devoured its spirit. The monster's spirit flowed into him, merging with his own and rushing into his Domain. The flames of the phoenix seemed to glow brighter, the mythical fiery bird forming more quickly. The image gained depth that hadn’t been present before, and the cracked, desolate roads softly glowed with warm light.

Jackson grinned triumphantly.