Page 44

I closed the door behind me, leaving Vasen outside.

Now alone in the room, I walked toward the washroom and stood before the full-length mirror to examine myself.

The first thing that caught my eye were the two horns on my head, curving backward like a crown, pure white, as if they were an extension of my body, crafted from white jade.

I then noticed my hair, now longer, falling just below my shoulders, a brilliant silver in colour, matching my eyes, with silver pupils in between.

My lean frame had become more muscular, my body filled with pure, toned strength.

I stood over six feet tall, and I couldn't help but glance down to note my manhood, now over six inches, girthy and veined, a faint shimmer of silver tracing along the veins that adorned it swirling around it.

Raising my hands, I drew more of the power within me, just enough to feel it coursing through my palms. A silver dagger materialized in my hand, and as my heart thumped, that familiar sensation of power surged within me.

This time, though, it wasn't a sign of danger, just the feeling of my essence being drained at a manageable rate.

The dagger felt cold and real in my grip.

With a swift slash through the air, I felt pure essence rush our of my body to the dagger making an arc of pure essence rippled from the blade, shattering the mirror into countless shards.

Each fragment reflected my face—shocked, but exhilarated.

This was power. All the suffering had led to this moment, and it suddenly felt worth it.

I dispersed the dagger, feeling the rush of energy pulsing through every muscle in my body.

I was faster, stronger, sharper than before.

I lifted my hand, making a slashing motion, and the essence surged through me once again.

An unstable slab formed in the air, only to quickly dissipate.

It was clear I still needed to manifest a medium, I could not just create an attack out of thin air —it needed to be like a sword for a slash, a bow for an arrow.

It felt like I could eventually bypass these limitations, but I wasn't there yet. I had more work to do.

I felt that the potential of this power was limitless like I could do anything and more of this potential will be unlocked once I become a true awakened and a supreme one, I had work to do I thought as I continued experimenting with my power.

I summoned a bow and released an arrow of pure essence, watching as it struck the wall and left a crater behind.

Next, I formed a thorny whip, lashing it through the air, reducing the door to splinters. Each attempt brought new discoveries.

Then I tried something different. I stood still, drawing on my power again.

This time, instead of channeling it to my palm, I spread it throughout my body.

Slowly, silver armor materialized around me—boots, trousers, arm guards, and gloves, all gleaming like metal.

But the essence consumption was overwhelming.

I quickly felt the drain, my heart pounding as my energy depleted rapidly, so I dispersed the form.

Exhausted, I sank into the tub, letting the water soothe my tired body as I washed my hair. The sensation of having horns still felt strange. I closed my eyes, leaning back to rest.

After a while, I stood and saw that the once-clear water was now completely silver, stained by the blood that had once coated my body.

I stepped out of the tub, walked to the room, and opened the curtains, allowing the moonlight to spill across the bed.

Turning back, I collapsed onto the bed, too drained to think about anything.

I knew I had to train harder to use my powers effectively—the energy drain was too much to handle in an actual battle.

My eyes fluttered shut, and I felt myself drifting away.

The moonlight bathed the naked man lying on the bed, his toned body glowing with an ethereal light. His silver hair and white horns gave him an otherworldly appearance.

I was awakened by the sunlight streaming through the window. Rising from the bed, I pulled the curtains closed before turning to the wardrobe. I took out a pair of trousers and a shirt, dressing up.

A knock sounded at the door.

"The head wishes to see you, my prince," came Vasen's familiar voice.

"Alright, come in," I replied, fastening the trousers and picking up the silk shirt.

As he entered, his eyes briefly lingered on me before shifting to the side, where something seemed to catch his attention.

I followed his gaze to the washroom—it was a complete mess, the aftermath of my power-filled experiments.

"Looks like you'll need to change rooms, my prince," he said calmly, his voice betraying no emotion.

"Seems that way," I agreed, slipping into the shirt as I walked toward him. Vasen turned, and we strode side by side through the hall until we reached the door. It opened before us, and we stepped inside.

"Welcome, young king, welcome," came a calm, ageless voice. The man behind it stood as we entered.

"You change your address rather quickly," I remarked, walking up to his desk.

"Change is the most natural process, young king," he responded.

"Just as you have changed over these past three months.

Only fools resist change—they are the ones swept away by the turning tides, too rigid in their ways.

It is those who adapt that survive." His words carried a tone of reminiscence, as if he was recalling something distant, speaking to someone unseen.