Chapter 5: Dark Crimson Essence
The sigil of the Obsidian Cauldron showed a black cauldron whose flared rims curved like a dragon’s horns. On its rounded flank lay a broken shard of obsidian. Because Han had summoned it, the entire sigil was wrought of soundless dark flames, wavering under his new mana.
The woman lost all hope and stared blankly.
After a beat of resolve, Han sent the Obsidian Cauldron toward his captive, aiming to brand it onto her abdomen. The instant the dark flames touched skin, her eyes flew open and her body jerked. Pain blossomed across her stomach and raced along her mana channels, tugging at nerves and blood vessels.
She screamed. "S‑Stop! Don’t turn me into a fucking cauldron! Aahhh!"
It was as if someone had lit a fire on her belly, and the flames circled through her body along her mana veins. Agony ripped through her; with each beat her screams grew louder. She thrashed so hard the chains rattled. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, and sweat ran over her skin.
Then the first threads of dark‑crimson essence began to pour into the cauldron’s mark.
Han shut out her screams and focused on the flow. It’s truly dark mana. Good. I won’t have to waste time converting it. Once the cauldron fills, I can absorb it.
In this world, power followed paths. Dark Warlocks walked the Dark Path, starting as Acolytes and, at the far end, becoming Dark Sovereigns.
Beginnings mattered; the first spells laid the foundation. So far, Han had only the Dark Cauldron Art. It meant he could raise his mana only by turning others into his cauldrons. Having chosen this path, he was bound to it—and branded a Dark Warlock.
Acolytes could wield up to seven spells; to learn more, they had to break through to the Initiate rank.
Six more spells for Han. He would start crafting his own once his mana pool expanded. For now, he needed to keep drawing that dark‑crimson essence from his captive and convert it into mana. What that essence truly was, he would study later.
One allure of being a Dark Warlock was extraction. He could draw out a host of things and either sell them or forge them into single‑use artifacts. The Tenaxis family held deep influence in the underworld market with their range of artifacts and essences. It was one of the core reasons they were respected—and feared.
She’s in so much pain, and all I can think about is what I can take from her. Guess that’s how it’s going to be from here on out.
When the Cauldron filled, Han summoned the Obsidian Cauldron’s Magic Circle again. It drew essence and mana to him, streaming out of the captive and slamming into his dragon wing. The wing unfurled like an umbrella and shuddered.
Under the influx, his dragon bloodline boiled. A prickling gathered at his left shoulder blade.
It’s coming!
BANG.
A second dragon bone shot from his back and extended, shaping his other wing. They beat once, kicking up gusts through the room. Strength and mana surged. All he had done was sit in a chair and break a woman, yet his body ached as if he’d trained for hours, rebuilding itself to grow stronger.
This rush is addictive. I finally shed a chain and took a step toward becoming a powerful Dark Warlock.
He turned his palm upward. Strands of dark essence gathered in the air and wove into a sphere—dark and crimson, intriguing. Han fed it with Dark Mana to see what it would become.
Dark flames winked into being and climbed the sphere, turning it pitch‑black.
Red Dragon flames burned indiscriminately until nothing remained. Dark Flames were different: they consumed piece by piece and persisted until the target was dead—akin to the Dark Cauldron Art.
The essence resisted his Dark Flames, so he shelved the experiment to see what it would become later.
Han summoned his magic circle; the Obsidian Cauldron stilled.
He rose and looked at the woman. Her breathing was ragged; she looked spent, as if she’d given birth to ten children.
"Your essence is intriguing, and your mana pool is vast. You could survive my Obsidian Cauldron for weeks," he said. "But I’ve decided to take good care of you."
"Just kill me!"
"No. I’ll drain your mana until there’s almost none left, then let you regenerate it. Rinse and repeat. You’re a cauldron. If you survive all of it, maybe I’ll give you a better future."
"Go fuck yourself!"
Han smiled and left the room. Outside, he met two maids and ordered them to tend his present. Feeding and washing her would be their main duties. After they nodded, he returned to his room, sat at his desk, and lit three candles.
I need to draw from Dark Arts and Red Dragons. The previous Han ignored those books. I’ll dig through them and draft my first spells.