After the destruction

The battlefield bore the marks of the relentless struggle—shattered weapons, scorched earth, and the blood of comrades and enemies alike. Though the three monsters had been vanquished, the victory felt hollow. The losses were too many, the scars too deep.

Darian's battered body was carried to the hastily assembled medical camp, his lifeless form a grim reminder of the price they had paid. The priest worked tirelessly, purifying and stabilizing the vital energy coursing through Darian's broken frame. His face was pale with exhaustion when he finally stepped back and addressed the anxious group.

"I have done all I can," the priest said gravely. "His life is no longer in danger, but his injuries… they are severe. His body is in ruins, and he has slipped into a coma. I cannot say when he will wake—or if he ever will."

The words hung heavy in the air. Around the campfire, the group sat in somber silence, each wrestling with their own thoughts.

Mara's Thoughts

Mara paced near the medical tent, her mind racing as guilt gnawed at her. Her ability, Eagle Eye, had always made her the team's sharpest cover, but in that critical moment, she felt she had failed.

"I saw everything," she thought, her fists clenched at her sides. "Every movement, every attack—yet I couldn't stop it. I should have been able to warn him, to cover him. What good is my sight if I can't protect the people who matter most?"

Her jaw tightened as she looked toward Darian's unconscious form. "This will never happen again. Next time, I'll make sure my eyes are the reason we win, not the reason we lose."

Luka's Thoughts

Luka sat apart from the group, his fists resting on his knees as anger and shame boiled within him. His adrenaline rush ability gave him bursts of overwhelming strength, but that strength had failed when it mattered most.

"I should have been the one fighting," he thought bitterly. "I have the strength. I could have taken one of those monsters head-on. Instead, I stood there like a coward while Darian fought all three."

He slammed his fist into the ground, the impact reverberating through his arm. "What's the point of this power if I can't protect the people who matter? If I'm so useless, I'll never let this happen again."

Senna's Thoughts

Senna knelt by Darian's bedside, her hands trembling as she tried to hold back tears. Her ability to manipulate poison made her one of the deadliest members of the group, but now, she felt powerless.

"I could have helped," she thought, her chest aching. "I could have distracted the monsters, slowed them down, done something to take the pressure off him. Instead, I let fear hold me back."

Her fingers brushed the edge of Darian's blanket as a flicker of resolve sparked in her eyes. "If I can't fight without hesitation, what's the point of this power? I'll master it—I'll make sure I'm ready next time."

Kai Storm's Thoughts

Kai leaned against a tree at the edge of the camp, his expression unreadable. The speedster had always been quick to act, quick to joke, but now, his usual confidence was nowhere to be found.

"I'm supposed to be fast," he thought, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Fast enough to be there when it counts, fast enough to save lives. So why wasn't I fast enough to save him?"

The wind stirred around him, an echo of the power he felt he had failed to use. "I won't let this happen again. Next time, I'll be faster. No hesitation, no mistakes."

Bheemjog's Thoughts

Bheemjog sat cross-legged near the medical tent, his tablet-like device in hand as his fingers fidgeted with it. The 17-year-old tech genius had always relied on his inventions to level the playing field, but now, he felt as though they had been nothing more than toys in the face of true danger.

"I could have built something stronger," he thought, his teeth gnawing at his lip. "A better weapon, better defenses. If I had, maybe Darian wouldn't be lying there."

He glanced at the half-finished gadget in his hands, his young face twisting with determination. "Next time, I'll have something ready. Something that can take down monsters like that before they even get close."

Rathar's Thoughts

Rathar sat near the campfire, his calloused hands toying with a shard of metal he had salvaged from the battlefield. As the group's blacksmith and craftsman, he had always taken pride in providing them with the tools they needed to survive. But now, those tools felt woefully inadequate.

"My weapons weren't enough," he thought, his brow furrowed. "They broke, they failed. I failed. Darian fought with broken weapon because what I gave him wasn't good enough."

He held the metal shard tightly, his resolve hardening. "I'll forge weapons that won't fail. Tools that can withstand anything. He'll wake up to a world where we're ready for whatever comes next."

Marcus's Thoughts

Marcus stood at the center of the camp, his arms crossed as he surveyed the group. As Darian's second-in-command, he had taken on the mantle of leadership in his absence, but the weight of that responsibility felt crushing.

"They're looking to me now," he thought, his gaze lingering on each member of the group. "But can I lead them the way Darian did? yeah before joining Darian most of them listen to me but i wasn't a leader i was just trying to ease the mood by becoming the link for their interaction.

He inhaled deeply, forcing the doubt from his mind. "This isn't about me. It's about all of us. If we're going to survive, we need to be stronger—not just individually, but as a team."

The group sat in heavy silence, each lost in their thoughts, their guilt and grief slowly giving way to determination. Darian lay still, a silent reminder of the strength they aspired to emulate. Though they didn't know when—or if—he would wake, one thing was certain: they would honor his sacrifice by becoming stronger, for him and for everyone who had fallen.

Meanwhile, Within Darian's Consciousness

A faint hum echoed through the endless white void. Darian opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a blank, formless expanse stretching in all directions. His body felt weightless, yet every part of him ached with a deep, dull pain.

"What…? Where am I?" His voice echoed in the emptiness. "What happened to those three monsters? I remember… I remember killing them. I tore through them. I won… But now… now I'm here."

He rose to his feet, his senses disoriented as he scanned the void. "This place… It's like… my consciousness," he muttered, realization dawning. "Yes, that's it. I must be in my mind, but why? Why am I here like this?"

As the questions swirled in his thoughts, a faint glow appeared in the distance, a flicker of light amidst the white. Drawn to it, he moved closer, his breath hitching as the faint energy grew brighter.

"Oh my god…" he whispered, his eyes widening. Before him was an immense swirl of radiant white energy, pulsating like a living heartbeat. It illuminated the void, yet it also seemed to be slowly fading, drawn toward something darker.

His gaze shifted, and there he saw it—a black mass, like living shadow, coiling and writhing as it absorbed the white energy. For a moment, fear gripped him.

"What is that… thing? And what is it doing in my consciousness? In my body?" His mind raced, but his instincts quickly calmed him. "No… wait. It's… purifying the energy, absorbing and refining it."

He stood silently for a moment, watching as the black matter worked, its movements deliberate and almost precise.

"It's helping me," Darian realized. "Purifying the energy and… healing me?"

He sank into a seated position, crossing his legs into a lotus pose. "If this is my consciousness, then I should be able to control the process," he thought. "I can accelerate the purification."

Closing his eyes, Darian focused. The energy pulsed around him as he began to concentrate, drawing it toward himself. The black matter responded, its movements quickening as it worked in tandem with his will.

The Next Morning

The camp had settled into a fragile order, with Marcus taking charge in Darian's absence. The group moved with somber efficiency, each member driven by their personal resolve to honor Darian's sacrifice.

As the first rays of sunlight bathed the camp, the wind priest entered Darian's tent to check on his condition. He stopped in his tracks, his breath catching as he saw a faint glow emanating from Darian's head.

"By the gods…" he whispered, stepping back. The light intensified, casting the entire tent in a warm, radiant glow.

"Everybody!" the priest shouted, his voice breaking with urgency. "Everybody, come quickly! Something's happening to Darian!"

The camp erupted into movement as Marcus, Mara, Luka, Senna, Kai, Rathar, and Bheemjog rushed toward the tent.

"What's going on?" Mara demanded, her heart pounding as they approached.

Inside, the glow had reached its peak, spilling out from the tent in brilliant rays. The group hesitated at the entrance, awe and fear holding them in place for a moment. Then, steeling themselves, they stepped inside.

Their breath hitched at the sight before them. Darian sat upright on the bed, his hands pressed to his head as if steadying himself. The glow had dimmed, but its remnants lingered around him like a shimmering aura.

For a moment, silence filled the room. The group stared, their minds struggling to comprehend the sight of their leader awake and alive.

As soon as the group saw Darian awake, they all rushed toward him, their relief exploding into an outpour of emotions. Bheemjog was the first to reach him, practically diving onto Darian with unrestrained excitement.

"You're awake! You're alive! You're okay! Oh, thank the stars!" Bheemjog exclaimed, his childlike energy shining through as he clung to Darian.

Right behind him, Luka leaped onto Darian in a dramatic display of tears and relief. "Darian! Darian! I thought you were gonna die! I—I , you know!" Luka cried, holding onto him as if he would never let go.

Their antics turned the somber atmosphere into a chaotic yet heartwarming scene. Mara and Senna, who had been on the verge of tears moments before, couldn't hold back their laughter, their emotions shifting to joy and relief. Even Marcus and Rathar, usually composed, found themselves chuckling at the spectacle, their heavy hearts finally lightened by the sight of their leader awake and surrounded by his companions.

The Priest stepped forward, his expression still a mixture of awe and curiosity. "Darian… how did you recover? You were severely injured. It should have taken weeks, even with our healing methods."

Darian rubbed the back of his neck, his expression calm but thoughtful. "I absorbed the energy from the attack," he explained. "Bheemjog, you know, right? That massive energy we gathered to defeat them—I think I absorbed some of it during the fight."

Bheemjog's eyes widened as his mind immediately began calculating. "Ah, so that explains it! That energy must have kickstarted your recovery process. But wait…" His expression turned serious. "How did you purify the energy? It was raw and unrefined. If a normal human tried to use even a fraction of that much energy, they would need immense focus—and they'd still probably die. The risks are unimaginable."

Before anyone could reply, Mara stepped forward, a sly grin on her face. "Of course, he's not a normal human. He's Darian, after all," she quipped.

Everyone burst into laughter, the tension melting away once more. Even Darian chuckled, shaking his head at the lighthearted jab.

After a moment, Darian's tone grew serious again. "So, how is the camp holding up?" he asked, his gaze sweeping across the group as he prepared to shift their focus to the bigger picture.

---

After Darian asked about the situation of the camp, Marcus stepped forward, his face serious but relieved.

"Darian, the situation isn't as severe as expected," Marcus began, to explain "though the damage was severe, there were a high number of injuries, but not many deaths. Most were due to the efforts you put into taking down those three monsters."

Darian processed this, feeling the weight of the loss. "So… still many people died," he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt.

The group fell silent, the somber mood returning briefly before Darian broke it. "Alright then, let's see the situation around the camp," he said, attempting to stand.

However, as he got up, his leg buckled, and he stumbled slightly.

"Darian, what's happening? Don't move today," Marcus quickly said, rushing forward to help him. "Rest. I'll take care of things for now."

Darian nodded, his body reminding him of the toll the battle had taken. With a sigh, he returned to his bed, thinking to himself, What happened?

He focused for a moment, attempting to check on his body, but as his mind wandered, he saw that everyone looking at him and said.

"Everyone, go back to your jobs," Darian ordered, waving his hand dismissively. "I'll come and inspect after resting for an hour or two. I'll also provide a plan for what needs to be done and how we move forward."

With that, the team dispersed, leaving Darian to rest, his mind already planning the next steps despite his physical exhaustion.

After the team dispersed, Darian lay back on his bed, taking a moment to process the changes within his body. His mental power surged, his strength, speed, and senses enhanced beyond what he'd known before, but the most striking change was in his absolute instinct. He could sense even the faintest movements, his range of perception three times broader than before.

His concentration had also grown deeper. When he focused intently, his eyes transformed—completely black, except for the white centers of his retinas. This marked the next stage of his absolute instinct, an ability he hadn't fully understood until now. As he continued to analyze, he felt another surge—his energy circulation had become much smoother. He could now control a significantly larger amount of Vital Force than before.

Darian decided to test this newfound control. He concentrated, channeling the Vital Force into a knife he had nearby. As he infused the weapon, he could sense the difference. It wasn't just that the energy was present; the Vital Force had enhanced the blade itself. It felt as if the knife could cut through anything—stronger, sharper, more alive than before. The energy was no longer just imbued within; it had transformed the weapon, made it more than it had ever been.

But then, something inside him sparked. His rage boiled over, and without thinking, he let out a scream, activating the Roar of Rage. The emotional surge flooded outward, and Darian felt a wave of relief as his own negative emotions, as well as the people who were healing other injured in the next camp also looked like they let out a huge burden after hearing his scream, negativity were nullified. He realized that his Roar wasn't just about the force of his voice—it was a transmission of his emotional strength, instantly calming any fear or doubt in those near him.

Feeling the newfound abilities and strength within him, Darian knew it was time to train further. He needed to push himself, refine his control over the Vital Force, and learn to master and create new technique. Without hesitation, he headed out into the jungle, determined to test his limits and grow stronger.