Book 2: Chapter 50: Breakthrough

  The Earth Tribulation was conquered, but it had also opened a door. He could feel it, that pull urging him forward.

  “One last thing,” he muttered, cracking his neck. “Time to see how far this body can go.”

  "Ah yes, the part where you try to stuff a mountain into a teacup," Obby purred, far too pleased with the idea. "This will be fun."

  Alex sat cross-legged once more, diving back into his storage bracelet and setting out his arsenal: shimmering pills, vials of glowing elixirs, jagged essence fragments, dried leaves that smelled like thunderstorms, pearls of swirling condensed will, Arcane Beasts Core, and more. Gifts from nobles. Treasures from Tom-Tom’s chaotic shopping sprees. Spoils ripped from dead enemies. All of it laid out like an offering to the gods.

  In this ritual though, Alex was the deity receiving offering.

  He exhaled slowly and activated his Condensing Spiral technique. For the first time ever, nine thin braids of aether spun out from his soulgate, weaving around him like a luminous crown. It was a feat he couldn’t do before, but his upgraded Willpower stat and new aether chennels, made it possible.

  The air trembled, the aether in the area bending toward him in spirals. Each breath pulled more energy in, tighter and tighter along the braided threads connected to his gate, and into his body.

  The first pill dissolved on his tongue, and fire spread through his veins. He drew it in, compressed it, packed it down into his tissues. Then he took another pill, and another elixir. His body swelled with power, only for him to mimic the Earth Tribulation and force it down again, refining, condensing, compressing. The process felt like wringing himself dry and then refilling with something heavier.

  Then came the strain.

  It was small at first. A tightening of his muscels and tendons, a stiffness spreading across his body. It was like getting tetnus on steroids. But he pushed through it, swallowed another pill, and kept cycling his aether.

  But it started tog et worse as time went on. Eventually, muscles tore as they tried to absorb even more aether and knit themselves stronger. His organs failed under the pressure, some leaked blood. His ribs cracked under the inward pressure. The pain was a raw, feral scream in his bones. He didn’t stop.

  Alex picked up a different vial, not a cultivation elixir, a healing potion. He drank it, giving his body the flash of healing energy and intent needs to reknit his muscles and bring his organs back from failure.

  Then he kept going, taking another pill.

  This went on for some time. A pill, elixir or resource that he would swallow, compress, bleed, heal, continue.

  He cycled the energy between himself and the aether gem in his bracer, like a blacksmith hammering steel back and forth over the anvil. Draw, compress, shove it into the gem. Pull it back out. Compress again. Over and over until his hands trembled and his teeth bled.

  He drank another healing potion.

  "You’re insane," Obby noted cheerfully as Alex’s vision blurred. "But I do love a good madman."

  More pills, and then more elixirs. His stomach twisted violently, rejecting the overload, but he forced it down. Energy roared through him, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. The nine aether braids at his essence gate lashed like living things, bright enough to scorch the ground.

  Then there was a snap! The bottleneck shattered. The world tilted.

  Alex’s entire body convulsed as every cell screamed, opening wide. His tissues became a starving abyss, devouring everything. The aether gems, two full reserves, drained in moments, their glow snuffed out like candles. He scrambled to feed the hunger: swallowing treasures, crushing pills, pouring elixirs down his throat. The black hole that was his body pulled in every scrap until there was nothing left to give.

  And then… silence. The hunger stopped. The spirals slowed, curling back into him. His body stabilized with a shudder, the area eerily quiet except for his ragged breathing.

  Inside, he scanned the wreckage; torn muscles, splintered bones, battered organs. But beneath the damage, there was something new. The aether in his veins no longer felt like vapor or mist. It flowed like liquid, dense and potent, coating every fiber of his being.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A notification flickered across his vision:

  He collapsed back, sweat dripping, lips cracked, but a slow grin spread across his face. Every nerve still burned, but the power thrummed steady beneath the pain.

  Obby hummed in satisfaction. "You survived again. And you didn’t even almost-die once this time. I’m so proud, I could cry, if I was capable of it."

  Alex let out a hoarse laugh. “Middle Stage Adept…” He stared at the empty vials and shattered pills scattered around him. “Guess I’m ready for whatever’s next.”

  "You better be," Obby said, voice sharp with amusement. "Because the Aeralith Prince: The Soaring Heir, is still out there. And he’s probably preparing too."

  Alex just smirked, lying there on the damp grass, feeling stronger than he ever had before. It didn’t matter what the Aeralith Prince prepared, he would be ready, he had to be.

  He pushed himself up with a groan and looked over his stats. It wasn’t hard for him to figure out what he was going to do with the remaining points.

  Fuck me. Alex picked up the discarded cup and pulled out the Seraph Dust once more. Its going to be that kind of day, I guess. What’s one more tribulation after all of that?

  ***

  It was hard to keep a smile off his face when looking over all the gains he had made one his status screen. Even though Alex was trapped in a war under threat of death, with a Trial Quest timer of a size even Damocles would be proud of still hanging over his head, his inner gamer child still squealed when he say those numbers going up.

  The System was a mocking asshole, but he had to admit that it knew how to motivate him. He kept going, kept getting excited when he spent experience, working his skills and trained in his spells and martial style. Like a fat kid in Willy Wonka’s factory, he just couldn’t stop drinking the chocolate.

  But if it meant he was strong enough, powerful enough to not have to bend to the other citizens of this world, it would be worth it. Terraxum’s chains couldn’t hold forever, they would break.

  He looked over ot the metal container that still sat on the grass nearby. The one containing the blood he extracted from the wyvern. There was still more he had to do, but did he have the time? He looked up to the sky, finding the first of Aetherios System’s suns now peaked behind the event horizon of its celestial void.

  A whole day, he had been at this for a whole day now.

  “Actually its been two days, you were cultivating quite a while to increase your aether attuned body.” Obby corrected.

  “What?! Two days?” He couldn’t help shouting out loud.

  “Oh yeah. I didn’t want to interrupted, seemed like you were super focused.”

  Fuck, how long will it take to prepare and process the wyvern blood then?

  “That, you will have to wait for. Your [Alchemy] skill ins’t there yet, even with Allie and Henry’s help. Besides, I think you are already out of time.” Obby’s single large eye turned toward the war-camp, angled down the hillside slope that Alex stood on.

  He followed Obby’s gaze to look far down the slope, finding a group of eleven figures standing at the bottom looking up at him. His friends were there, waiting for him. All had their armor and weapons, aura’s blarring in response to his own breakthroughs.

  His aether sight activated and his washed his senses over each of them. None of them had stayed idle during his masochistic push. None went as hard as he had, but they all made steps in the first stage towards a liquid formation. It would have to do for now.

  Clothes and armor went on quickly to cover himself up, and all his tools, including the wyvern blood, got packed into his storage bracelet.

  His footsteps were still shaky, and he looked worse than he had when he left the medical tent two days ago. But he felt better. No, that was a lie, he felt exhausted, strained, and squeezed dry. His soul thrummed though, and his breath came easy despite his pain.

  The Aeralith Prince would have himself a whole different fighter on his hands the next time they clashed.

  An entire new Alex, the Worldstrider, the Earthbreaker, the Demon of Terraxum.