Aldric broke the silence first, disbelief sharp in his voice.
"…Did you just feed it a **magic stone**?"
He took a step closer, eyes locked on the small black creature.
"It *ate* it. Swallowed it whole. And it's—" his jaw tightened, "—it's looking like it wants **more**."
He shook his head once. "That should've killed it. Instantly. Even high-grade beasts rupture from the inside when they try something like that. So how is it even still alive? What kind of creature *is* that?"
Lyriana crouched slightly, eyes narrowing as she studied the cat.
"It looks… fine," she said carefully. "There's no sign of instability. No mana backlash. Nothing."
Aldric snapped back immediately.
"Don't say that yet. Sometimes it takes time. Delayed collapse. Mana poisoning doesn't always happen right away."
He crossed his arms, scowling. "For all we know, it's about to burst into a puddle of fur and blood."
Lyriana shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.
Aldric noticed—and sighed. "Don't give me that look. That's what normally happens. You know it."
The cat, meanwhile, sat there calmly.
Tail flicking.
Eyes bright.
Very much alive.
Draven didn't say anything.
He just stared at the creature, expression unreadable, thoughts turning.
*So it's not normal…*
Not a stray.
Not a simple familiar.
Not something that crawled out of a rock by accident.
His gaze lingered on the cat's violet eyes… then drifted to the remaining magic stones at his side.
"…Yeah," Draven muttered under his breath.
"I guess you're not as ordinary as I thought."
He kept his eyes on the cat.
*Maybe one isn't enough,* he thought flatly. *One stone doesn't prove anything.*
Without a word, he reached into his other hand, picked up another crimson crystal, and flicked it toward the creature.
The stone struck the ground.
That was all it took.
The cat moved—too fast for something that small. In a blink it was there, jaws opening, swallowing the magic stone whole just like before. No hesitation. No reaction. No surge of mana.
Silence followed.
Everyone waited.
A heartbeat passed.
Then another.
Nothing happened.
No convulsion.
No explosion.
No sign of instability.
The cat simply turned back toward Draven, purple eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light, tail swaying slowly—
*asking for more.*
Draven stared at it, expression tightening.
*No reaction at all…*
Not rejection.
Not overload.
The cat looked up at him.
Waiting.
Draven looked down at it for a long second—then his fingers tightened around the remaining crystals.
Without another word, he lifted his hand and **shoved all of them into his mouth at once**.
Crunch.
He swallowed.
The reaction was **instant**.
Blood burst from his nose, streamed from the corners of his eyes, ran hot and thick from his ears. His body folded forward violently, spine arching as if something inside him had detonated. A choked sound tore from his throat as blood sprayed through clenched teeth, splattering the dirt below.
Aldric swore sharply.
Lyriana froze.
The maid's eyes widened—but she didn't move.
Draven dropped to one knee.
Veins flared beneath his skin, glowing a deep, violent crimson. His muscles locked, trembling as if they were being pulled apart from the inside. The mana inside him didn't circulate.
It **collided**.
This was nothing like Elira's memories.
This wasn't flow.
This wasn't control.
It was like forcing a storm into a glass vial and sealing the lid.
Draven slammed his fist into the ground.
The earth cracked outward in a spiderweb, the impact sending a shockwave through the clearing. Blood poured freely now, dripping from his chin, soaking into the soil—yet his wounds regenerated almost as fast as they formed, flesh knitting together only to tear again under the strain.
His teeth ground together.
"—ghh—"
Inside him, the mana raged.
Not chaotic like a beast's.
Not refined like a mage's.
It felt **compressed**—dense, heavy. As if every fragment carried weight far beyond what it should. Each pulse tore at his organs, his nerves, his bones—trying to force them to *change*.
Draven's vision swam.
*So this is it…*
*This is what my body's been rejecting.*
Aldric stepped forward instinctively. "Enough—! You're going to—"
"Don't," the maid said sharply.
Aldric froze.
Draven lifted his head slowly.
Blood-streaked.
Eyes burning red.
Expression twisted—not with fear, but with furious concentration.
"I won't die from this," he rasped. "If this kills me… then I was never fit to live."
The cat sat a short distance away, tail flicking once.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then—
Something **shifted**.
Deep in Draven's chest, beneath the pain, beneath the violence, something *clicked*. The mana didn't calm—but it stopped tearing outward.
Instead, it began to **sink**.
Compressing further.
Falling inward.
His heart slammed once—hard enough that everyone felt it.
Then again.
Each beat heavier than the last.
The bleeding slowed. Not stopped—but slowed.
Draven dragged in a ragged breath, shoulders shaking, and forced himself upright, still kneeling, blood dripping from his face onto his hands.
"…Damn it," he muttered hoarsely.
His gaze lifted—not to the others—
—but to the cat.
"So you eat it," he said quietly. "And nothing happens."
His fingers curled slowly into the dirt.
"But when *I* do…"
A thin, dangerous smile tugged at his bloodied lips.
"…it tries to tear me apart."
The cat's eyes gleamed brighter.
Draven's body shook as another wave of pain tore through him—**far worse than he remembered**.
Not doubled.
Not tripled.
It felt **ten times heavier**, like his bones were being crushed from the inside while something molten clawed through his veins. His teeth clenched so hard they creaked, a low, animal growl rumbling from his chest as blood dripped from his lips.
*This is it.*
He could feel it now.
Clearly.
The mana wasn't distant anymore. It wasn't theoretical or borrowed through memories.
It was **inside him**—packed so tightly it felt like a collapsing star in his chest.
*I need to get it under control.*
*I need to make it obey.*
His fingers dug into the ground, cracking stone beneath them as he tried to **force** the mana to bend—compressing it, gripping it like a weapon that refused to be held.
Behind him, the maid's voice cut in, urgent but steady.
"My lord—stop. You're doing it wrong. You're not human. You shouldn't imitate them. Don't try to shape it—let it flow. Let it move naturally—"
"**Shut the fuck up.**"
The words came out as a snarl.
Draven's head snapped slightly in her direction, red eyes blazing, killing intent bleeding into the air so sharply that Aldric felt his breath catch.