Not being allowed to read the forbidden texts—yeah, that was a pain.
But not an absolute wall.
If he couldn't devour demons for now, he could still draw from benevolent gods—and then absorb what he borrowed.
Once absorbed, it's mine.
Kamar-Taj sorcerers usually commune with the Vishanti, Eternity, and other cosmic beings. They lend power; the upside is you don't "pay" much up front.
How much you get depends on whether the god… likes you. Favorable? Big share. Not impressed? A trickle—or nothing.
When you die, the borrowed "magic particles" return to their patron's embrace.
But patrons (especially dimensional demons) often demand terms—lifespan, organs, feelings—sometimes they even saddle you with strange ailments. The costs can be nasty.
Benevolent gods value order.
Let's sample that first.
Under the Ancient One's guidance, Leon entered meditation to reach the Vishanti.
She set a tome before him.
The Book of the Vishanti.
The very book Strange chased in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness—sitting quietly in her hands here.
The Book can counter magic. Page after page, it holds the strongest white magic and defensive spells known. Its recorded arts are never for offense—only defense.
It also serves as a focus for meditation.
Soon, Leon beheld the Vishanti.
A trinity: the All-Powerful Oshtur, the All-Seeing Agamotto, and the Ancient Hoggoth.
Two human visages and a great old tiger—that's what he saw.
No dialogue.
The trinity merely regarded Leon.
A force dropped into him like a weightless stone.
He felt his power rise.
Battle power: +3,000.
Leon frowned.
Three thousand? That's it?
Worse—he felt this force wasn't truly his. It was seeping into his own cultivated ki. If he died, this "Vishanti loan" would carry away the portion of power it had infiltrated. If the seep ran deep enough, they wouldn't even need him dead to reclaim it.
That second case rarely happens.
Unless you grievously offend the Vishanti; benevolent gods don't idle away micromanaging every small borrower. Countless sorcerers borrow from them; they won't track each hair on every head.
You die naturally; the power returns naturally.
Then they lend it out again.
That's the orderly way.
Demons and dark gods, on the other hand, seek chaos.
The more disorder, the louder they thrive. Beyond gouging the borrower, the world's breakdown itself is nourishment.
So they constantly tempt you to use their power—
then guide you to fall.
Leon's gaze flicked to the Ancient One.
She'd bargained with Dormammu and lived extra centuries; she'd likely spent those years resisting his invasion every day.
"This power's decent—but it's too little," Leon said, smiling.
"This amount is not little," the Ancient One replied, brow creasing. "Keep communing with the Vishanti. If your rapport grows, I'm certain they'll lend you more."
Why return what I borrowed if I earned it? Leon muttered inwardly, then nodded aloud. "Understood."
At a mere thought, the Buu cells within him surged.
They devoured the Vishanti's power and refined it into a violet-gold ki, storing it inside Leon's body.
So much for the Vishanti.
A curve tugged at Leon's lips.
Three thousand at a time was small—
but that was roughly twenty days of his natural growth.
And…
You can shear this sheep again and again.
Cosmic beings have oceans of power. Even if he skimmed a little extra each time, they'd never feel the loss.
No need to be so stingy.
With that thought, Leon sat cross-legged and dove back into meditation.
The vast silhouette returned.
The triune god, once more.
Leon reached out and plucked at the wool again—his overwhelming spirit bridging to the Vishanti, and—
Another surge fell into him.
Battle power: +5,000!
He was pleased—two thousand more than last time, and only six hours apart.
This pace was good. He was very satisfied.
Again. Keep going.
He didn't know fatigue. His mind was sharp; he sank once more into trance.
With benevolent gods, it's rapport and spirit. Leon's affinity with the Vishanti wasn't high—
but his spiritual force was monstrous. With sheer will, he could drag enough arcane particles across.
Who needs "rapport," anyway? I'm not here to date—I'm here to take.
If you don't shear the gods' wool, you're wasting it.
(End of Chapter)
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