"I told you that the essence of the first step is evolution, but there are many ways to go about it."
"You have those that just randomly evolve, using their own thought process as a guide, and then you have others, the true elite, who evolve with a special goal in mind."
"That’s what the Spark Fras are. A sort of evolutionary guide. A tool you use as you ascend."
He crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat, as if preparing himself for a longer explanation.
"If, let’s say, you want to be a speed-type ascendant, you can simply evolve using materials and creatures attuned to speed, and that’s it. On paper, that sounds logical."
"But we both know that that’s just not how evolution really works, right?" His gaze sharpened slightly. "In our world, cats are agile and fast not because they’re descendants of the big cats, but because their bone structure allows it."
"So then what’s the real boon there?" he continued. "Is it speed itself? Or is it their bone structure, their agility, their dexterity?"
"That’s where issues start to appear. That’s where your foundation becos shoddy."
"You’ll beco fast, sure, but then you’ll realize you can’t run fast for long. Your stamina will be awful. Your recovery lacking. Your durability insufficient."
He shrugged. "I actually almost made that mistake once. Focused entirely too much on the aether and ntal aspects of my Lie Eaters and boxed myself in completely."
"I ended up having to shatter my core and start over from the beginning." He exhaled. "That’s when I discovered Spark Fras."
Uriel blinked, caught off guard. "It was that bad? What was wrong with your evolution, to the point where you had to destroy your core?"
Enoch grimaced, mories resurfacing.
"I’m not gonna get into the details," he said after a mont. "But as you’ve already guessed, we evolve by assimilating external things; beasts, bloodlines, so people even use artifacts. Point is, we take sothing external, assimilate it, then make it innate. That spark becos the catalyst for evolution."
"You’ll see in a few weeks, when we actually start evolving."
His grimace shifted, turning into a bitter smile.
"Back then, I had no guidance. We didn’t et until much later, so you weren’t there to point out the issue early. Neither were the...others." His gaze drifted for a fraction of a second. "I was alone."
"My goal was to create a core with an absurd regeneration speed of aether. Sothing that would essentially give infinite reserves, so I could endlessly use my spark without worrying about exhaustion."
"I also wanted to expand my mind," he continued, voice steady. "So I could twist my Lie Eaters into sothing far more complex. I wanted blades. Bombs. Shields. Armor. Constructs. Entire systems."
"Everything," he said flatly.
Only just hearing this, Uriel’s face twisted as he pieced the consequences together. "...Oof."
Enoch laughed, short and humorless.
"You have no idea."
"My core beca too big for my body to handle," he went on. "Not only could I almost never use it properly, but my body was essentially crippled by its own potential."
"And worse than that," his tone darkened, "I started going insane."
Uriel stiffened slightly.
"Because I learned the hard way that my Lie Eaters didn’t have to be physical. That’s when I discovered I could use them as a curse."
"Lie Eaters began appearing in my mind. Every thought I had blood into one. I had to constantly fight them off just to stay functional."
He shuddered, the reaction instinctive. "It was horrible. Truly horrible. I don’t know how I didn’t kill myself, honestly."
A mont of silence passed.
"But anyway," Enoch said, waving it off, "that’s the downside of not having a Spark Fra. And that’s why we’re not imdiately going to start cultivating."
"You see," he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, "Spark Fras can only be born from your Class."
"And a Class," he continued, "is essentially the sa thing as your Spark Fra, but broader. Much broader."
"Your Spark Fra ensures that every evolution you go through creates a perfect foundation. It aligns your body, your core, and your spark. That’s why it’s called a fra, you’re literally constructing a body optimized for what you are."
"But your Class does that for your entire cultivation path," he said. "It guides everything. Every step. It makes sure you essentially can’t screw yourself over."
"It also makes you ridiculously stronger than anyone else in your rank," he added. "Amongst a bunch of other things. In that sense, yeah, it’s a lot like gas."
Uriel began tapping his finger against the wooden table, his gaze unfocused as his thoughts spiraled inward.
"Hm."
Sothing began to swirl and assemble in the storm of his mind, pieces clicking together into sothing coherent.
Sothing fascinating.
"So the fra molds your body and guides your evolutions," he said slowly, "and the Class guides everything. That makes you a specialist, shaped entirely around whatever your spark is."
Enoch nodded once.
"And you said evolutions are essentially a process where we assimilate external things to change our core and evolve," Uriel continued.
His gaze sharpened as he turned fully toward Enoch.
"Is it possible to evolve using only other people’s sparks?"
Enoch’s eyes widened, but Uriel imdiately shook his head.
"I don’t an it like that," he clarified quickly. "Not literally. My spark has an ability that I think can—"
SHAH!
A shadow lood over Uriel.
He turned, startled, and looked up at the person now standing beside him.
It was a woman. Tall and slender. A river of silver hair cascaded from her head, flowing freely down her back and perfectly complenting her deep scarlet pupils.
She was beautiful, ridiculously so, in a way no human from their planet should ever be. And she oozed such thick, oppressive aether that it nearly rivaled the sea Uriel had summoned during his awakening.
She wore majestic, dark layered robes, embroidered with roaring dragons and soaring phoenixes that seed almost alive.
"They’re called Spark Hunters," she said softly, her lodious voice carrying a strange authority. Her eyes never left Uriel.
She snapped her fingers.
From her dinsional space, a chair appeared. She placed it at the table and sat gracefully, folding her hands atop her lap.
"I’m welco, right?"
For so reason, Uriel didn’t feel uncomfortable under her scrutinizing, almost obsessive gaze, fixed on him as though she were trying to tear through his flesh and peer directly at his soul.
Still, he found her strange. Obviously so. And yet, there was sothing about her that felt even more...off. Sothing he couldn’t quite place.
He turned to Enoch.
The man had his eyes closed, massaging his forehead as he carefully regulated his breathing.
"You know her?" Uriel asked, confused by the sudden tension that had blood in the room.
"Yeah," Enoch said, sighing heavily.
"That’s Persephone."
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