Michael had not been wrong.
Over the next two days, the ruin revealed even stranger facets of itself. The rhythm of exploration deepened and battles grew more complex. The faceless creatures did not simply increase in number or density. They evolved in variety. So wielded elental magic crudely, while others displayed regenerative traits, sealing fractures unless destroyed in a single decisive strike.
The deeper the groups advanced, the more structured the resistance felt.
Yet it was not only danger that escalated.
The rewards diversified.
Beyond the cultivation orbs, another phenonon began to appear. After the fall of certain stronger faceless entities, the condensed energy did not always stabilize into a uniform deep blue sphere. Instead, so orbs shimred with layered light within. Rather than smooth and dense, their interiors contained faint geotric patterns, almost like inscriptions suspended in liquid crystal. Thin lines of light rotated within them, forming incomplete symbols that rearranged continuously before settling.
Unlike the cultivation orbs that took ti to solidify, these orbs appeared already ford.
Michael terd them skill orbs.
A skill orb was fundantally distinct from a cultivation orb. Where a cultivation orb contained energy designed to refine and strengthen existing foundations, a skill orb carried structured information embedded within it. It could be used a total of three tis before being destroyed.
When absorbed, a skill orb did not flood the body with brute force. Instead, it imprinted.
The structured energy within unraveled into conceptual fragnts, embedding itself into the recipient. The result was not an explosion of raw strength, but understanding. A pattern. A frawork that settled into the mind and body as if it had always belonged there.
Sotis the change was imdiate and obvious.
For example, one of the earlier skill orbs they secured had originated from a faceless creature that compressed its limbs before striking, releasing bursts of force in short, violent pulses. When that orb was absorbed, the recipient did not simply gain more power. Instead, they instinctively understood how to condense mana into a single point within the body, hold it for a fraction of a second, and release it in a focused burst.
The result was a technique that allowed short range explosive movent. Not faster in general, but devastating in short exchanges. A step that covered only a few ters, yet carried the weight of a full body strike behind it.
Another orb ca from a regenerative faceless. It yielded a minor recovery technique that accelerated natural healing by stimulating cellular energy through controlled mana cycling.
A creature that manipulated elental energy crudely might leave behind an orb that granted access to a simplified elental discharge. Not mastery, but the blueprint for it.
What made skill orbs dangerous was not just their usefulness.
It was the fact that they bypassed the years normally required to conceptualize a technique.
They inserted it whole.
Understanding without struggle.
Mastery without trial.
Faceless monsters that displayed unique behaviors in battle were the most likely to yield such orbs.
Within two days, several skill orbs were secured. Not all were absorbed imdiately. Michael observed each one carefully before allowing anyone to decide.
The spatial container grew heavier, now holding not only energy crystals and rare herbs but crystallized skills waiting to be claid. There were also strange raw materials stored. They did not know their use or na, but that did not stop them from recognizing and storing treasure.
Group Two experienced similar developnts.
After the incident with the fallen n and the realization that even human deaths produced orbs, their vigilance increased sharply. The tension between the tenth prince and Renn did not disappear, but it beca quieter and colder. They too encountered faceless that yielded more than raw cultivation refinent.
However, sothing was wrong with Group Two.
It was subtle at first, easy to miss. Yet as hours turned into a day, and
then another, a pattern beca impossible to ignore.
Aside from the prince and Renn, the others carried a faintly absent look in their eyes. They still moved. They still fought. They still reacted when danger appeared. But there were monts, increasing in frequency, when all three of them would slow at the sa ti and stare toward the sa direction, as if their attention had been hooked
and dragged there.
They would simply stare.
The only difference between the prince and Renn and the rest of the
team was simple.
The other three had been absorbing cultivation orbs.
The prince and Renn had not.
Renn's reason was not fear. It was discipline. He belonged to the kind of path that refused shortcuts. The kind that treated external
resources as crutches. He followed the belief that if a sword was not
sharpened by pure effort, then its edge would never beco real. Little resources. No reckless consumption. No unknown treasures poured into his foundation. Only steady refinent. Only swordsmanship pushed forward until it beca instinct.
The prince's reason was colder.
He did not trust the ruin.
And he did not trust rewards that arrived too easily.
He had seen too many inheritances that gave sweetness first and
poison later.
So he did what princes did best.
He waited and used the other three as his experints, keeping his
face calm while allowing them to consu the orbs and gain strength under the illusion that he would follow soon, all while watching their
reactions.
And while they fought, he collected more.
He gathered them steadily, letting them harden into stable objects
before storing them away. He had told himself he would use them later, but looking at the current situation, the tenth prince was quite
happy he had not used the orbs yet.
Renn's restraint finally broke.
"You warned them," he said, voice low but cutting. "I warned them. Those orbs were too convenient. And now look at them."
His gaze shifted toward the three n who stood a short distance
away, eyes fixed on the sa distant stretch of crystal lit terrain.
"They're not right."
The tenth prince did not look at him.
"You speak as though I forced them," he replied calmly.
"You allowed it."
"I allowed them to grow stronger. There is a difference."
Renn's jaw tightened. "Strength without clarity is a liability." The prince finally glanced at him, faint irritation surfacing. "Your path rejects external resources. That is your choice. Do not impose it on
others."
Renn did not back down. "This isn't about philosophy. It's about
control. They're losing it."
The prince's expression cooled further. "You overestimate the danger."
Renn turned fully toward the three n. "Do I?"
As if summoned by the tension, the three shifted again.
This ti, they did not rely stare.
They stepped forward together.
No signal passed between them. No words. No visible cue.
They simply began walking toward the sa distant location they had
been gazing at intermittently for the past day.
The prince's eyes sharpened.
"Hold."
The command was crisp and authoritative. It had drawn imdiate
obedience countless tis before.
The three did not stop.
They continued walking.
Renn's head snapped slightly toward the prince. The lack of response
was obvious.
"Return," the prince said again, voice carrying more force.
Nothing.
No hesitation. No glance backward.
Their steps remained even, steady, purposeful.
For the first ti since entering the ruin, genuine unease crossed the
prince's face. Before, when their focus drifted, a single word had always been
enough to snap them back. Their discipline, their loyalty, their
awareness would reassert itself.
This ti, it did not.
On the other side of the ruin, beneath the sa endless twilight sky,
the situation was no better.
Arianne stood beside Michael, her fingers trembling against the reins of her Fla Lion. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice unsteady. "I should have listened
to you. I thought I could handle it. I thought it was just power."
Michael did not answer imdiately.
His gaze was not on her.
It was on the three n standing several steps ahead of them.
Cedric.
Lucien.
Alaric.
They were not walking yet.
But they were no longer fully present either.
Their eyes were fixed on the sa distant direction. Their breathing
was steady. Their expressions blank in a way that felt unnatural. They still reacted when spoken to and still moved when instructed, but there was a thin delay now. A fraction of a second too slow.
Arianne's tears fell faster.
"I can feel it sotis," she admitted quietly. "Like sothing
pulling. Like a thought that isn't mine."
She swallowed hard. "I'm afraid I'll beco like them."
Michael finally looked at her.
He did not see madness in her.
He saw fear.
And beneath it, resistance.
Then he turned his attention fully to the others and activated the Eye
of Truth.
The world shifted.
Surface reality peeled back.
The three n standing before him were no longer simply cultivators
strengthened by orbs.
In his vision, they were bodies wrapped in sothing else entirely.
Small faces. Dozens of them.
Tiny, faint impressions embedded beneath their skin.
Along their arms. Across their chests. Crawling up their necks.
The faces did not scream.
They did not speak.
They simply
existed.
And every few seconds, they shifted position, sliding beneath the skin
like reflections moving across water, rotating and trading places, reconfiguring themselves in subtle, nauseating patterns.
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