Questions piled up as the last glow faded from the cauldron’s skin.
How does this devouring actually scale?
Was it only corpses... or could items count too?
Would the cauldron accept them?
Michael gut said yes, but there had to be limits. Ordinary junk wouldn’t move something that even the Eye of Truth couldn’t pry open. If it could eat anything, then rarity, integrity, and concept density would surely matter.
He glanced again at the panel in the air.
[Devour plete.]
[Essence Assimilated: Monster Corpse (Rank 3).]
[Evolution Points: 355.]
"Three hundred and fifty-five..." Michael murmured, frowning. For a Rank 3? It felt low—insultingly low, given the pressure a genuine Rank 3 could exert.
If this was all he’d get per corpse, then increasing his undead would still be more efficient in the long run. Five hundred undead meant five hundred steady evolution points per day, without burning resources.
The cauldron’s devouring was powerful—but perhaps it was a burst tool. Short-term spikes, like chugging spirit potions.
Michael rubbed his chin, replaying the corpse’s condition. Inplete... no soul... and the Law Seed was harvested. The more he thought about it, the more obvious the deduction became.
These bodies were husks. The souls had been stripped to make Prince’s puppets, and the Law Seeds—which he now understood as one of the main pillars separating Rank 2 from Rank 3—had already been taken out. He’d fed the cauldron a shell. It had eaten, yes... but the meal had been flavorless.
Michael’s gaze drifted to his storage. A dozen seeds pulsed there like sleeping stars.
Could the Law Seeds themselves be consumed?
The thought made his chest tighten. Now that he knew what they were—condensed fragments of universal truth—the idea of tossing one into the cauldron felt like a...Waste? Or investment?
He grimaced, recalling Lily’s appetite. The little glutton had devoured more than five. His heart ached anew.
Am I starting to have troublesome undead...
Michael thought of his other undead too before refocusing on the matter at hand.
Still, if he kept hunting Rank 3s, seeds wouldn’t stay scarce for long.
Michael let out a slow breath. "Test carefully. One seed."
Michael reached out into his storage space drawing out a law seed.
He chose another one related to the water element.
The cauldron reacted the second it appeared.
Michael didn’t hesitate. "Eat."
Light poured from the cauldron.
A few seconds later panels flared in front of Michael again.
[Devour plete.]
[Essence Assimilated: Law Seed (Water).]
[Evolution Points: 1,600.]
Michael sucked in a breath. "One thousand six hundred..."
Michael’s hand trembled faintly as he read the numbers again.
One thousand six hundred.
It was far beyond what he had expected. pared to the 355 points he’d received from a harvested Rank 3 husk, this was nearly five times as much. His lips pressed into a tight line, his mind racing through the implications.
He glanced back at his storage. More than thirty Law Seeds pulsed faintly inside like caged stars, each radiating that same silent rhythm of truth. His pulse quickened.
If one seed granted sixteen hundred... then thirty meant nearly fifty thousand.
Fifty. Thousand.
The sheer thought made his body tighten with a hunger he didn’t even realize had rooted itself within him.
Michael swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay calm.
"Fifty thousand... no. More.."
The temptation gnawed at him. For a moment, he could almost see it—pouring every seed into the cauldron.
But his hand clenched shut.
No.
He couldn’t.
If the seeds were fragments of universal truth, then using them merely as fodder for points was... wasteful. At least he couldn’t use them now.
Michael closed his eyes and forced his breathing steady.
"Waste... or investment?" Michael muttered under his breath.
The glow of the cauldron had already faded, but its faint hum lingered in the back of his mind, like a predator waiting for its next meal.
Michael grimaced. He’d need to test more, but not recklessly.
Michael turned to the corpses stacked neatly in the Land of Origin. Nearly forty, stripped of seeds and souls, their massive frames sprawled like broken mountains.
Though he couldn’t use the law Seeds now, he could use these ones.
Michael shifted, his two bodies working together.
Soon, nearly 40 bodies were in the coffin space.
"Eat," Michael manded.
One after another, the Rank 3 remains were fed into the cauldron. Each time, a flare of light burst, panels rising before Michael’s eyes.
[Devour plete.]
[Essence Assimilated: Monster Corpse (Rank 3, Inplete).]
[Evolution Points: 322.]
[Devour plete.]
[Essence Assimilated: Monster Corpse (Rank 3, Inplete).]
[Evolution Points: 403.]
[Devour plete.]
[Essence Assimilated: Monster Corpse (Rank 3, Inplete).]
[Evolution Points: 289.]
The numbers varied. Some were higher, some lower, but none broke four hundred.
Michael’s expression darkened as the last glow faded.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So it really depends on what is being devoured."
The deduction matched his earlier suspicions. These weren’t full Rank 3 corpses anymore. Their souls had been ripped away to fuel Prince’s puppets. Their seeds had been stripped. What was left were battered shells of flesh and bone, heavy with lingering power but hollow at their core.
It was like feeding the cauldron bones without marrow.
By the time the final body was consumed, the panel displayed a new total.
[Evolution Points: 13,440.]
Michael’s heart raced in excitement.
Even stripped, forty corpses had still given him more than thirteen thousand points.
His gaze drifted once more to the seeds in storage.
Thirteen thousand from forty corpses. One thousand six hundred from a single seed. The scale was terrifying.
The corpses were useful, yes, but they had also answered his immediate question.
"Scaling..." he murmured.
The cauldron wasn’t devouring flesh alone. It was devouring essence—the totality of what made something significant.
That meant ordinary junk, as he’d guessed, would be worthless.
His gut told him it was true.
Michael stared into the cauldron.
He shivered slightly, then forced a thought down.
"Later," he whispered.
For now, he had enough.
Michael stepped back, dismissing the panels.
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