Chapter No.52: - Installing Dragon Bone

After leaving the briefing room, Simon rushed straight home.

He entered his room in silence, shutting the door behind him with a click that echoed louder than it should have. He locked it, bolting it tight. Then, one by one, he closed every window, drawing thick curtains over each to block out any trace of light—or attention.

The room was sealed.

He grabbed a thick piece of cloth, folding it hastily before biting down hard. He laid flat on the floor, his breath already beginning to quicken.

He didn't want anyone in the house—anyone in his family—hearing what was about to happen.

Inside his mind, he gave the command:

"Install."

The moment the word echoed in his consciousness, pain exploded through his body.

It was unnatural.

Agonizing.

As if invisible hands were reaching into him—ripping his skeleton out of his flesh only to shove it back in again. Over and over. The cycle of mutilation repeated endlessly, grinding at bone, nerve, and soul.

Simon convulsed.

His entire body began to shake violently, muscles tightening beyond control. His eyes turned bloodshot, veins darkening and bulging beneath his skin like twisted black vines. Blood began to clot across his limbs, a desperate attempt by his body to suppress the unbearable agony.

But it did nothing.

The pain was beyond human.

No living person should have been able to endure it without either dying... or losing their mind.

Simon gritted his teeth so hard that the cloth muffled a scream that would've shaken the walls. Tears streamed from his eyes, unbidden, as his body writhed on the cold floor.

Fifteen minutes.

That was how long it lasted.

Fifteen eternal, mind-shattering minutes.

Then—like a storm that had exhausted itself—the pain vanished.

Gone in an instant, as if it had never been.

Simon lay there, trembling, soaked in sweat, blood dried around his fingertips and jaw. His breath came in shallow, broken gasps, but his eyes were steady now—bloodshot, but focused.

The cost had been paid.

The replication was complete.

Simon dragged himself off the floor, his limbs trembling and skin slick with sweat. Every inch of his body ached, but he forced himself toward the bed, staggering with slow, uneven steps.

Collapsing onto the mattress, he laid there for a long moment, staring blankly at the ceiling. Yet even in his state of exhaustion, his mind remained sharp—focused not on the pain he had just endured, but on the time it had taken.

Fifteen minutes.

Not the agony itself—but the duration.

When he had first installed Ivan's Fire Manipulation, it had taken only a few seconds. Then Aerial took five minutes. Reinforced Muscle—more than five. Infrared Waves—a full ten. And now, this latest ability: fifteen agonizing minutes.

Simon understood what it meant.

His ability wasn't some divine gift… nor was it a curse handed down by devils. It was the universe's way of enforcing equivalent exchange.

Every time he copied a power—every time he tried to take a shortcut to strength—the universe demanded payment. Pain was the price. Not just any pain, but something that dug into his soul, as if trying to see whether he could endure it without shattering.

And if he did endure it… if he survived it with both mind and body intact…

Then he was rewarded.

With power no one else could touch.

That thought made Simon chuckle weakly, his voice hoarse as he looked up at the ceiling.

"I might need to find a pain-nullification skill someday."

After a few more minutes of lying in silence, his stomach let out a deep, feral growl.

Hungry.

No—starving.

He forced himself up again and shuffled toward the kitchen, his legs still wobbly beneath him.

Once there, something primal switched on inside him.

He tore through the fridge like a beast—devouring everything in sight. Packaged meat, leftovers, emergency rations—nothing was spared. Not even the backup supplies hidden behind the condiments or frozen goods set aside for long-term storage.

He ate and ate, like something inside him was trying to refill what had just been emptied. His metabolism wasn't just fast anymore—it was monstrous, consuming calories faster than his body could store them.

And yet, no one saw him this time.

Mathew and Olivia were out of the house.

Had they seen him now—seen the ferocity, the single-minded hunger—they might have mistaken him for something no longer human.

It wasn't until the last scrap of meat was gone and his stomach was finally full that Simon leaned back against the counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The pain had passed.

The hunger was quiet.

Simon walked down the quiet hallway beneath the villa, each step steady despite the lingering soreness in his muscles. At the end of the corridor, he reached a reinforced door and pushed it open, revealing the private training room nestled deep underground.

The room was lined wall to wall with heavy-duty training equipment—reinforced benches, weighted plates, gravity-resistance rigs—all designed to handle the strain of high-ranking Astral Lords. But Simon had only one thing in mind.

His eyes locked onto the punching machine at the far end of the room.

A thick, metallic cylinder attached to a shock-absorbing base—rated to withstand up to 20,000 kilograms of force. It wasn't just a measuring device; it was a monument to physical might.

Simon walked up to it, took a breath, and tightened his stance.

Then he punched.

There was a moment of eerie stillness.

Then—

BOOM.

The entire training room shook violently, the impact thunderous and sharp like a cannon blast in a confined space. A shockwave ripped through the air, vibrating through the reinforced floors and walls. Dust rained from the ceiling. Cracks skittered across the concrete like spiderwebs.

And upstairs, the entire villa trembled.

But there was no one to witness it.

The villa stood silent, empty… unaware of the force that had just been unleashed beneath its foundations.

Simon stood amidst the swirling dust, staring at what remained of the machine. Or rather—what used to be the machine.

It had been blown apart. **Not damaged—**destroyed. Torn into metal scraps, like a washing machine crushed beneath the wheels of a speeding freight truck.

He blinked. For a moment, he didn't move.

That machine was designed to register impacts of up to 15,000 kilograms, and its reinforced structure could survive over 20,000 without breaking.

Yet it hadn't just broken—it had exploded.

Simon slowly looked down at his right hand. His knuckles were untouched. No soreness. No strain. Just raw power still humming in his veins.

"…That wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered to himself.

Running calculations in his head, gauging the resistance, the speed, the shockwave…

24,000. Maybe 25,000 kilograms of force.

That was the conservative estimate.

.Simon exhaled slowly, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

"So… this is what Dragon Bone feels like."

His mind raced—not with fear, but with possibility. What he held wasn't just raw strength.

Dragon bone combined with Reinforced muscle give him power far stronger and dangerous than before, 

It was the power of monsters. The kind of strength that turned battlefields. The kind of strength that changed everything.

And this… was just the beginning