Shocking Development

Denwen stormed out of the guild hall, fists clenched so tightly his nails threatened to pierce his skin. His jaw was tight, breaths controlled but shallow, the heat of frustration boiling in his chest.

They had played him.

Used him.

It wasn't surprising—not really. He had always known he was at a disadvantage. But knowing it and having it shoved in his face were two entirely different things. Their sneers, their dismissive words, the way they tossed him aside like a broken tool—it gnawed at him.

Weak.

The word echoed in his mind, ringing like a bell of shame.

Denwen hated this feeling. Hated being powerless.

Something had to change. He had to change.

As he mounted his hover bike, the engine roaring beneath him, he forced himself to push the anger aside—at least for now. He had to think, to plan. And he knew exactly who to seek out.

—-

The academy halls had mostly emptied by the time Denwen arrived. The last chime of the school bell had long faded, leaving behind only the distant murmurs of lingering students and the occasional footstep echoing through the grand stone corridors.

His destination was clear—Miss Agrona's office.

She was one of the few professors he actually respected. Not just because of her vast knowledge but because she had no bias. No false sympathy. If anyone could give him an actual solution, it was her.

Reaching her office door, he knocked once.

"Enter."

Denwen stepped inside. Miss Agrona was seated behind her desk, adjusting the sleeves of her dark uniform, various ancient tomes and scrolls laid open before her. Her sharp eyes flicked up, locking onto his with piercing intensity.

"Denwen," she greeted, her tone neutral but observant. "You look like you have something on your mind."

"I need to get stronger." His voice was firm, unwavering.

She arched a brow. "Everyone does. What makes you desperate?"

Denwen exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching. "I don't want to talk about it. But I need something—anything—that will help me grow stronger without relying solely on my talent. It's not enough. It never has been."

Silence hung between them. Miss Agrona studied him, her gaze unreadable. Then, after a moment, she leaned back in her chair.

"There is a way," she admitted. "But it's dangerous."

"I don't care."

"You should." Her voice hardened slightly. "The method I'm thinking of involves forcefully channeling essence through your core. It's experimental, unpredictable, and incredibly painful. It will push your body beyond its natural limits—but most people can't handle it. Their minds break. Their essence pathways collapse. Some never recover."

Denwen clenched his fists, the weight of her words sinking in.

"I can take it."

She exhaled through her nose, then stood.

"Very well," she said. "But remember—you asked for this."

—--

Agrona led him through the academy, past restricted sections that few students ever saw. Eventually, they arrived at a hidden entrance within the stone walls—a sliding panel that revealed a descending staircase. As they stepped inside, the air grew colder, the walls narrowing into a dimly lit passage.

At the bottom was her lab.

It was unlike anything Denwen had imagined. Unlike her usual composed demeanor, the lab was a chaotic mess of alchemy equipment, preserved specimens, vials of glowing liquid, and intricate arrays carved into the floor. The faint hum of arcane energy filled the space, the air thick with the scent of chemicals and something… unnatural.

The room felt alive.

Denwen's gaze flicked over a row of floating jars, each containing what looked like preserved organs, pulsing faintly with residual essence. Strange metallic instruments lay scattered on the worktables, some covered in dried blood.

It was less of a laboratory and more of a mad scientist's playground.

"Take off your clothes and get on the table," Agrona instructed casually as she moved toward a sink to disinfect her hands.

Denwen stiffened. "Wait—what?"

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. "Relax, boy. It's not that kind of procedure. Unless you're into older women, but I'm afraid you're a little young for me."

Denwen's face burned red as he quickly averted his gaze. "That's not—!"

"Then hurry up," she said, unbothered, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

He sighed and reluctantly obeyed, stripping to his underclothes before lying face-down on the cold steel examination table. A series of mechanical restraints snapped around his wrists and ankles, locking him in place.

He swallowed.

"Try not to pass out," she muttered, retrieving a syringe filled with a glowing silver liquid.

Denwen barely had time to process her words before the needle pierced his spine.

THUMP. THUMP.

His heartbeat tripled.

A raw, searing fire exploded through his veins, burning from the inside out. It was as if every nerve, every muscle fiber, was being shredded and rebuilt at the same time.

Denwen's back arched violently, his fingers clawing against the restraints. His vision blurred, sweat dripping down his face.

Pain.

Indescribable. Unrelenting.

It was like molten steel being poured into his core, like something inside him was trying to tear free.

Agrona watched intently. "Fascinating."

His essence surged uncontrollably, threatening to crack his core. The light green color of his essence turned black, churning violently as it struggled against his body's limits.

But then—something changed.

Agrona's smirk vanished.

The energy in Denwen's body shifted, inverted—devouring itself.

"Impossible…" she whispered.

She rushed to place her hand on his back in other to regulate what was happening but her own Rank 3 essence began to siphon into him against her will. The harder she tried to regulate it, the faster it drained.

His body was a black hole.

"STOP," she commanded, slamming her hand against his back, trying to halt the process. But the core within him absorbed even that.

Cracks spread across his skin. Dark essence leaked from his pores, burning away impurities.

"Enough!" Agrona snarled. She gathered a burst of essence and forced it into him—disrupting the absorption.

BOOM.

The backlash exploded outward, sending her skidding backward. The lab trembled, equipment shattered, and the walls cracked from the force.

When the dust settled, a foul, black sludge oozed from Denwen's body, the scent putrid beyond words.

Agrona slowly stood, brushing off debris, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"You…" she whispered, stepping forward. "Just what are you?"

Denwen's body, once trembling with strain, now radiated a newfound steadiness. His core—once damaged and fractured—was healing.

No, not just healing.

Changing.

—-

"Boy, wake up."

Denwen groaned, barely able to pry his heavy eyelids open.

Agrona sat beside him, her arms crossed, eyes sharp. He was no longer in the lab but in a clean, sterile room. He was dressed in a medical robe, lying on an actual bed this time.

"You've been out for a day," she said, tapping his cheek lightly. "Didn't I tell you not to pass out?"

His body ached, but he ignored it.

"Did it work?"

Agrona rolled her eyes. "No 'thank you'? No appreciation for the woman who just kept your core from exploding?"

Denwen just stared at her, waiting.

She sighed. "The procedure didn't go as planned. But something… else happened."

She let the words sink in before dropping the revelation.

"Your talent advanced."

Denwen's eyes widened.

"Your core healed itself," Agrona continued, voice laced with intrigue. "And you just jumped from D-grade to C-grade."