First, Ankit extended his awareness down through the bedrock, tracing the slow, patient circulation of earth Essence. It was heavy but not dull, calm but not dead—a force that preferred endurance over explosion. He guided a thin thread of that power into his Root Core, letting it swirl through the neutral Essence like a drop of dye in clear water.
Instead of rejecting it, the neutral Essence responded.
He used his will to sculpt a cycle: draw earth Essence in, let it mingle with the core's neutral energy, then push the mixture along the Root Core's internal pathways before returning it to the centre. With each circulation, a little more of the neutral Essence "remembered" its original nature and settled into a deeper, heavier vibration.
The key was balance.
He never forced the change; he simply kept the cycle moving, allowing the neutral Essence to choose the most stable state available. Under the influence of surrounding earth Essence and his own intent, that stable state became Root Essence—earth‑aligned power, thick and steady.
Hours blurred into days.
Gradually, the pale glow of neutral Essence darkened into a richer, earthen hue. The energy didn't vanish or drain away; it condensed. Neutral nature became foundation. Every strand that completed the transformation gained weight without losing purity.
Two days later, the Root Core shone with calm, brown‑gold light. Not a single drop of neutral Essence remained.
Ankit moved to the next step.
He guided the fresh Root Essence through his meridians, washing flesh and bones in the element of stability. Muscles hardened without becoming rigid; skin gained a subtle resilience, like flexible armour; bones grew denser, humming faintly when he willed them to. His entire body adapted to carry weight, impact, and pressure far beyond before.
When the refinement cycle ended, his physical form had crossed another threshold—what he called an earth‑elemental body. And from that Root Essence, a new figure slowly peeled away: a Root Clone, shaped from compressed earth Essence and bound to his will just like Solar and Sacral.
He sent the new clone out of the cultivation room with a simple order: assist the others.
Inside, the real work continued.
The Root Core's pathways were already mapped and open from earlier stages; they only needed to be filled to saturation. Ankit flooded them with Root Essence, letting each circuit stabilize before moving to the next.
Thanks to the Cyclone‑like expansion of his previous breakthrough, circulation was fast and smooth. Compared to the complex web of Solar and Sacral pathways, the Root network was simpler and shorter.
Four days were enough to fill everything.
Then came the final stage—compression.
This time, he did not rely on Root Essence alone.
He called threads of Solar Essence and Sacral Essence from their respective cores, weaving them into a tightening net around the Root Core. Solar Essence provided searing pressure, trying to collapse the core inward. Sacral Essence cooled and tempered, preventing cracks and guiding the compression evenly.
The Root Core responded by folding in on itself layer by layer.
What had been a grape‑sized sphere shrank, its energy density climbing with every pulse. The outer "shell" thickened into a crystalline crust while the inner regions packed tighter and tighter, like rock turning into diamond. Any trace of impurity—loose fluctuations, unstable eddies—was squeezed out, refined by Solar fire and Sacral coolness, then re‑absorbed in purer form.
The process was slow and relentless. Solar Essence hammered; Sacral Essence soothed; Root Essence anchored everything in place. As the days passed, Ankit could feel his entire body changing in response.
His defence soared.
Even without active techniques, his skin and bones now instinctively absorbed and redirected force. Blows that once would have broken ribs became dull thuds; shockwaves bled into the ground through invisible channels. The Root Core extended a field around him, a subtle domain of adjusted gravity.
At first, it simply made him feel lighter.
Then, as compression approached its peak, he realised the truth: the Root Core was no longer just anchored to Earth's gravity—it was generating its own.
By adjusting the direction and magnitude of that personal gravity, he could step off the ground and remain hanging in the air. No wind wings, no using of power, no external Vyuha—just his own field cancelling and reshaping the pull beneath his feet.
When the twentieth day ended, the Root Core pulsed once, like a heartbeat, and fell silent—perfectly compressed, perfectly stable.
Ankit opened his eyes.
His body felt heavy and light at once, like a mountain resting on a breeze.
Without calling any power consciously, he rose from the floor. The ground did not push him up; his own gravity carried him.