Chapter 42: The Price of Power
The Void Stalker struck with the fury of a creature that had finally recognized a true threat. Six shadow limbs lashed out in perfect coordination while its massive form lunged forward, that nightmare maw stretching wide enough to swallow Alex whole. The darkness didn’t just attack—it consumed, trying to drain the very light from his flames.
Alex’s Combat Echo kicked into overdrive, his borrowed instincts reading the creature’s attack pattern in the split second before impact. The beast was committing everything to this assault, abandoning defense for raw overwhelming force. ’A mistake born of desperation,’ he thought.
Instead of dodging backward as the creature expected, Alex stepped forward into the attack. Phantom Step activated again, draining his already depleted stamina as his body flickered out of phase. The shadow claws passed through empty air where he’d been standing, and he rematerialized directly beneath the Stalker’s extended form.
The effort sent white-hot agony through his essence channels, and blood sprayed from his mouth as something fundamental tore inside his core. But he was exactly where he needed to be.
"Game over," Alex whispered, and unleashed everything.
The flames that erupted from his body weren’t the controlled bursts he’d been using—this was the full, unbridled power of an SS-ranked fire manipulator channeled through a system designed to amplify stolen abilities. White-hot fire roared upward in a column that turned the cave into a blazing inferno, superheated air making the stone walls crack and hiss.
The Void Stalker’s scream wasn’t just sound—it was the death cry of shadow itself being burned from existence. Its form writhed and twisted as the flames consumed its shadow flesh faster than it could regenerate. Those void black eyes went wide with something Alex had never expected to see there: genuine terror.
But the victory came at a devastating cost.
The backlash hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. This was the price of overexerting himself through an Adept Core. Even if he had a huge number of essence in his essence pool, his core simply wasn’t evolved enough to channel that level of essence safely. The gap between his class and his ability rank was too vast, like trying to channel a raging river through a drinking straw.
But the damage went deeper than physical. Alex felt something fundamental crack inside him—not his essence channels, but something far more critical. His soul core, the very foundation of his awakened abilities, had developed hairline fractures from the overwhelming power differential. The pain that followed was unlike anything physical—a deep, existential agony that made him feel as if his very being was coming apart at the seams.
Blood poured from his nose, eyes, and mouth as the soul core damage manifested physically, his ability having literally cracked the foundation of his awakened existence.
The Void Stalker collapsed, its form dissolving into wisps of dissipating shadow, but Alex barely registered the victory. He dropped to his knees, flames sputtering out as his vision went white with agony. His stamina already very low after the double Phantom Step usage.
***[ENEMY DEFEATED: Void Stalker (S-Rank)]***
***[EXP GAINED: +250 EXP]***
***[Current EXP: 750/2000]***
A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he saw the EXP notification. "Finally," he wheezed through blood flecked teeth. "System decides to reward me again." ’For weeks now, my daily training hadn’t yielded a single point of experience, leaving me stuck at the same level despite my efforts. It seems like only defeating beasts gives me EXP now.’
He collapsed fully, his white hair now streaked with blood. The cave around him looked like the aftermath of a volcanic eruption—walls blackened and cracked, the air still shimmering with residual heat. His vision tunneled as consciousness began to slip away, stamina reserves completely depleted.
But he was alive. And more importantly, he’d won his first real battle in this rift.
As his consciousness faded, Alex’s mind processed what had happened. The fight had taught him a brutal lesson about the fundamental mismatch between essence pool and his current soul core. ’An Adept class soul core trying to channel the full power of SS rank abilities was like trying to contain an ocean in a teacup—the container would shatter before the power could be properly wielded.’
The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had the raw ability to kill S-rank monsters, but his soul core was too fragile to survive channeling that power safely. He was trapped in a cycle where he needed to fight to strengthen his soul core, but fighting might destroy the very core of his existence.
His vision went completely dark just as he heard those distant roars growing closer. Whatever was approaching would find him unconscious and defenseless, collapsed beside an S-rank Shadow Core that pulsed with tempting power.
The sound of distant roars echoing from deeper in the cave system reached his fading consciousness. The noise of their battle had attracted attention, and whatever was coming sounded bigger than what he’d just killed. Alex could do nothing but surrender to the darkness pulling him under.
His last coherent thought was a grim recognition: ’I finally got the EXP I’d been craving, but I might not live to see if it was worth the price.’
Unconsciousness claimed him just as something massive began scraping against the cave walls in the distance, drawn by the scent of blood and the lingering essence signature of his devastating flames.*****
Miles from where Alex collapsed in exhaustion, another figure moved through the crimson wasteland. Petra Blackthorne’s steps lacked their usual predatory grace, her normally immaculate appearance marred by streaks of dried blood that weren’t her own and tears in her Academy uniform that spoke of desperate struggle.
The katana at her side remained sheathed, but her hand never strayed far from its bone carved hilt. After three days of walking through this nightmare landscape without encountering a single human soul, the weapon had become more psychological comfort than practical tool. Every shadow could hide death, every sound might herald the approach of whatever apex predators had won the massive war that created this graveyard.
Her winter blue eyes, usually sharp with calculating intelligence, now held a haunted quality that would have shocked anyone who knew the Academy’s undisputed champion. The angelic smile that had been her trademark weapon was nowhere to be found, replaced by a tight line of barely controlled tension.
Petra paused beside the rotting carcass of what her enhanced perception identified as a Thunder Wyvern, its massive wingspan now nothing but tattered membranes stretched between broken bones. The sight should have fascinated her—A class beasts were rare even in textbooks, and here was one reduced to carrion like everything else in this hellscape. Instead, it only deepened the cold dread that had been growing in her chest since she’d awakened alone in this place.
Something pale caught her eye among the wyvern’s ribs. She approached carefully, katana ready, and felt her breath catch. Tangled in the creature’s massive claws was a strip of academy fabric. The cloth was torn and bloodstained, but unmistakably human.
’Finally. Proof that others made it through.’
Petra extracted the fabric carefully, studying the tear pattern. The edges were rough, suggesting it had been ripped away during struggle. Someone had been caught by this wyvern and managed to escape, leaving behind only this fragment as evidence of the encounter.
She tucked the fragment into her jacket pocket, the first tangible evidence she’d found that she wasn’t completely alone in this nightmare. But the relief was tempered by darker implications. If a student had been here days ago—and the fabric’s weathered condition suggested it had been exposed to the elements for at least that long—where were they now?
’Where is everyone?’
The question had haunted her for three days now. Dimensional rifts didn’t work like this—she’d studied the theory extensively, memorized every recorded incident. When spatial tears transported groups, they deposited them in the same general area. The margin of error was measured in hundreds of feet, not miles. Yet she’d found no trace of the eight hundred students and faculty who’d been pulled through alongside her.
No bodies. No belongings. No signs of struggle or death.
Just... absence.
Petra pressed her fingers against her temples, fighting down a wave of something she’d never experienced before in her life: helplessness. ’I am Petra Blackthorne, S-ranked air manipulator, the student who’d never lost a duel, never faced a challenge I couldn’t overcome through superior skill and ruthless intelligence. I don’t do helplessness.’
But this place was teaching her humility through isolation and fear.
The first day, she’d been confident. Annoyed at the separation, certainly, but confident in her ability to navigate whatever this dimension had to throw at her. She’d even felt a twisted excitement at the prospect of testing herself against the unknown predators that had created this battlefield.
She’d challenged Kael Ashford to a duel partly out of boredom, partly to test the limits of SS ranked fire manipulation, and partly because she’d genuinely been curious about someone who’d survived professional spatial kidnappers. ’Now I’m the one struggling to survive, while he is... where?’