Slave Body Refinement Technique

The room was quiet, save for the occasional sounds of footsteps in the hallway. I sat on the bed, staring at my open palm, deep in thought.

I had power—I knew that now. The way those assassins had fallen before me, lifeless, with barely any effort on my part… It had been terrifying. But more than that, it had been intoxicating.

I exhaled, flexing my fingers.

It wasn't enough.

I needed to get stronger. Strong enough to survive my fate, to protect myself and Grandma, and to face whatever was coming next.

"There has to be another way," I thought. "Something more."

I hesitated before speaking aloud. "Damien."

No response.

I waited, staring at the ceiling.

Still nothing.

I frowned, tapping my fingers against my knee impatiently. "Oi, Damien, I know you're there. Give me some advice or something. How am I supposed to get stronger?"

Nothing.

I was about to give up when suddenly—