The oil lamp's flame had settled into a steady, comforting glow, pushing back the shadows just enough to make their cramped room feel a fraction less oppressive. Anna helped David sit up fully, propping a rolled-up blanket behind his back against the rough wall.
His body still felt heavy, as though the void's lingering touch clung to his limbs, but the black-silver lines had vanished completely beneath his skin, leaving only the subtle, insistent thrum of new power coursing through his veins—like a second heartbeat, quiet but undeniable.
"Easy now," Anna murmured, her voice softer than before, the sharp edge of panic dulled by relief. "Don't rush it. You've been out for hours."
David managed a weak nod, accepting the chipped bowl she pressed into his hands. Inside was a thin but nourishing stew—chunks of Tier One Stage 8 beast meat from their last successful hunt, boiled slowly with a handful of withered herbs and roots to stretch it further and add what little flavor they could afford. The aroma was simple yet deeply comforting, a rare luxury in the third-level districts where most meals were little more than flavorless gruel.
"Eat," Anna said, settling cross-legged beside him with her own bowl. "You need to rebuild your strength after… whatever that was."
He took a spoonful, the warm broth sliding down his throat and easing the dryness that had settled there during his unconsciousness. For a few minutes, they ate in companionable silence, the only sounds the quiet scrape of spoons against ceramic and the distant, ever-present hum of the base's energy barrier filtering through the cracked window. Anna watched him carefully, her maternal instincts still heightened, but she gave him the space to gather himself, sensing he needed time before questions came.
David's mind, however, raced beneath the calm surface. The ancient man was truly gone now—his presence dissolved like mist in sunlight. The provisions sealed within the physique, the distant answers locked away until the Earth Immortal realm, the two foundational abilities… they were his inheritance, his tools for survival and revenge. But how to wield them? The man had described Void Travel and Death Energy Consumption in broad strokes, yet offered no practical guidance—no forms to practice, no meditations to follow. It felt like being handed a legendary artifact with no manual, its secrets locked behind trial and error.
Anna set her empty bowl aside and studied him, her sharp eyes catching the subtle changes in his posture—the way he held himself with a newfound steadiness, the faint spark in his gaze that hadn't been there before.
"You said the core pulled you under," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "But I've seen cultivators absorb beast cores. Even Tier Two ones. Never anything like this. The air turned cold, David. Empty. Like death itself had walked into our home."
David paused mid-spoonful, choosing his words with care. He couldn't reveal the full truth—not yet. The man's warnings about secrecy rang clear: knowledge of an ancient physique would paint a target on his back, and by extension, on hers.
"It was stronger than we expected," he said, keeping his tone level. "The Snake Tree core carried something old. Ancient. It changed me, Mom. Gave me power I didn't have before. But I'm still figuring it out."
Anna's brow furrowed, a flicker of memory lighting her eyes. She leaned forward, lowering her voice as if the walls might overhear.
"David… those smuggled books I showed you years ago—the forbidden ones from the upper levels. They mentioned rare bloodlines awakening from ancient cores. Hidden inheritances thought lost in this thinned-energy age. Lines of power that could change everything for people like us."
David froze, the spoon halfway to his mouth. His heart thudded heavily. She was closer to the truth than he liked.
Anna continued, her gaze intense yet gentle. "Some spoke of wood-spirit lines from ancient trees, or elemental affinities tied to legendary beasts. Others… darker things. Blood. Shadow. Powers that could make a person unstoppable—or hunted by every faction in the base. When those black-silver lines appeared on your skin before fading… it reminded me of the descriptions.
Did you awaken something like that? A bloodline?"
The bowl trembled slightly in David's hands. He set it down carefully, buying time. Lie completely? She'd see through it in an instant. Tell her everything? The risk was too great—William's leering face flashed in his mind, the guards' laughter, the brutal hierarchy that crushed anyone who rose too visibly.
He met her eyes, opting for half-truth.
"I… got something," he admitted slowly. "Power. Real power. But I don't know what it fully is yet. Or how to use it properly. It's there inside me, waiting. When I reach for it… I feel potential, but nothing clear comes. No techniques, no guidance. Just… raw strength."
Anna stared for a moment, processing. Then a small, understanding smile tugged at her lips despite the worry etched in her features.
"You don't know how to use it?" she repeated, a note of surprise in her voice.
David gave a short, rueful laugh—he couldn't help it. The irony struck him hard, a mix of frustration and amusement bubbling up.
"Now that I think about it," he said, shaking his head, "I don't know whether to cry or laugh. All this power drops into my lap—an inheritance, a bloodline, whatever it is—and I have no idea how to make it work.
It's like being handed a legendary spear but not knowing how to hold it, let alone throw it."
Anna's smile widened slightly, a spark of her old resilience shining through.
"We'll figure it out," she said firmly, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "We always do. Bloodlines and inheritances reveal themselves in time—especially in battle, under pressure. Our next hunt will tell us more. We'll test it safely, push a little, see what answers come. Abilities don't stay hidden forever when you need them."
She stood, gathering the empty bowls, but paused as another thought struck her.
"Speaking of hunts…" She glanced at the worn blade leaning in the corner—the old, mortal-forged weapon David had carried for years. Its edge was chipped from countless repairs, the metal dull and brittle. "You're a cultivator now, David. Truly one. That blade won't hold anymore. It's for mortals—ordinary steel. One good strike with your new strength, and it'll shatter like glass. We'll need to get you something better. A cultivator-grade weapon.
Even a low-tier one from the market would channel your energy without breaking."
David followed her gaze, a mix of nostalgia and excitement stirring. The old blade had been with him through failures and close calls. But she was right—it belonged to the old him. The weak him.
"You're right," he said, a grin creeping onto his face despite the fatigue. "A new blade. Something that won't break the first time I swing it properly."
Anna nodded, practical as always. "We'll save for it. Sell what we can from the next hunt. But for now, rest properly. You've crossed the threshold, David. You're no longer just surviving—you're beginning."
She ruffled his hair affectionately, a gesture from simpler times, before moving to clean the bowls.
David leaned back, letting her words sink in. The stew settled warm in his stomach, but inside, a brighter fire ignited—excitement, pure and fierce.
A cultivator.
No longer trash. No longer powerless.
The abilities waited—Void Travel, Death Energy Consumption—mysterious and untested, but his to command. No guidance from the ancient man, no easy path. He'd discover them through trial, through hunts, through the unforgiving grind of their world.
Tomorrow, he'd begin pushing. Testing limits in secret. Feeling for the edges of his new power.
For the first time in years, David fell asleep with anticipation burning brighter than fear or doubt.
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