Chapter 220: The Calm Before The Storm
The wind between us died. The King Ape’s yellow eyes stayed locked on mine, glinting beneath the heavy slant of his brow.
My muscles tensed.
His shoulder twitched.
I stepped forward.
He lunged.
Our fists collided midair, the impact sharp and thunderous. A shockwave rippled out, kicking up dust and cracking the stone beneath our feet. My arms trembled from the force, but I held my ground. So did he.
A beat of silence passed. Then we launched forward again.
He swung a wide hook—fast, almost too fast. I ducked under it, felt the wind slice past my head, and drove a sharp jab into his ribs. It was like punching a moving boulder. He grunted, stumbled back a step, then snapped his head forward in a brutal headbutt.
I leaned away just in time. His skull grazed the bridge of my nose.
No active abilities—but I activated the Essence channels carved into my bones and flooded them. Strength surged through my limbs like molten heat. My passive ability kicked in, reinforcing every tendon, every muscle fiber, giving my body unnatural resilience.
I stepped forward and drove my elbow into his chest.
Thwack.
He slid back two feet, his heels carving shallow grooves in the dirt before he stopped himself with a low growl. A glint of approval lit up his eyes.
Then he moved.
A blur.
His fist slammed into my stomach. My body folded from the blow, breath stolen from my lungs. It felt like getting hit by a battering ram. My boots dragged across the ground, trenches tearing through the dirt beneath me.
‘Damn’, I thought, forcing myself upright. That actually hurt.
I redirected sixty stat points into Constitution.
A single breath later, the difference was immediate. The ache dulled. My skin felt tougher, bones sturdier. The bruising that had begun to bloom across my ribs faded like fog in sunlight.
“Alright,” I muttered, cracking my knuckles. “Let’s do it your way.”
He roared and charged. This time, I met him head-on.
Our shoulders collided with the crunch of breaking stone. He followed up with a sweeping kick. I blocked with my forearm—my feet lifted an inch from the ground from the sheer force—but I twisted with the motion and countered with a spinning heel strike.
My foot cut through the air and smashed against his jaw.
The ape stumbled sideways, spit flying from his mouth. Then he grinned.
And pounced.
He was on me in two strides, fists slamming down like hammers. I blocked the first, parried the second, slipped past the third, and slammed my knee into his gut.
He caught my leg mid-strike and flung me.
I twisted mid-air and landed in a controlled slide, boots carving a deep groove in the dirt just outside the hut.
I rose to my feet. He beat his chest once and snarled.
“Hey,” I said, wiping blood from my lip. “You’re still holding back.”
I clenched my fists and charged. This time, it wasn’t a single strike—it was a flurry.
Punch. Block. Knee. Dodge. Uppercut. Counter.
His arms were like steel. His fists struck like falling trees. But mine were guided, reinforced by Essence and sheer will. A rhythm started to form between us—an unspoken beat of fists and footwork.
I landed a clean hit to his chin. He staggered. I didn’t let up.
I spun low, swept his legs, and drove my fist down toward his chest—
Only for him to catch it mid-fall and twist, sending me flying overhead.
I slammed into the ground, skidding several feet before rolling to a stop.
The King Ape stood, then dropped into a seated position with a heavy exhale. I pushed myself up and stared at him.
“What happened? Don’t wanna fight anymore?”
Honestly, I was enjoying myself. The rush of blood, the raw sensation of bone meeting bone—it was exhilarating. Pure hand-to-hand combat. No tricks. No elements. Just grit.
The beast snorted, stood up, and walked away without a word.
I blinked, momentarily confused by the sudden de-escalation—the abrupt ceasefire between me and the King Ape. One second we were trading blows like primal titans, the next he was just… done.
A strange disappointment settled in my chest. I let out a slow exhale, letting the tension drain from my shoulders, and turned away from the clearing.
I made my way back toward the house. Inside, everything was still. The warmth of the wooden floor welcomed me as I crossed the hall and lowered myself to the center. I sat down cross-legged, hands resting on my knees, and closed my eyes.
My breathing slowed.
I turned inward.
With deliberate focus, I reached into my core and began restoring my depleted Essence. The channels carved into my bones pulsed gently, drawing ambient energy toward me like a living current. I guided the flow, refining it into Essence with practiced ease.
Essence that I was generating had multiple uses now.
First, it empowered my stats, pushing my physical limits beyond normal boundaries.
Second, it fed the Null Heart nestled in my chest, the strange construct that had become an extension of my heart.
And now, it maintained the Soul Shackle—an invisible tether wrapped around the Abomination I’d subdued. It drained Essence in slow, constant sips just to stay stable.
I sank deeper into that rhythm—absorb, refine, allocate.
My perception spread outward as I reached further, grasping at threads of raw energy in the surrounding air. Time slipped by unnoticed as I lost myself in the process of generating Essence and transferring it to Null Heart.
But the truth was, I needed more.
One Abomination wasn’t enough. Not for what was coming. Not for the escape I was planning.
The Holts, the contractors, the portal room—it was all still a gamble. The Guardian Beast might awaken, the Ferans might rise, but nothing was certain.
So I needed another.
Another Abomination under my control. Another monster to even the odds. Another weapon in the war I was about to start.
****
I opened my eyes slowly, breathing steady. A quiet hum still ran through my bones—a leftover echo from all the Essence I had pulled and shaped.
Almost a full day had passed since I sat down in that spot. I hadn’t moved. I had done nothing but focus on absorbing energy and turning it into Essence. It was strange how time slipped away when I was deep in that state.
I checked my Essence storage. It was full, completely packed with power. That was a good sign. I also checked the progress I’d made on the next Soul Shackle. I was getting closer.
Null Heart Charge: 540 / 1000 Essence.
Not bad.
I stood up, my legs a little stiff from sitting so long, and stretched my arms over my head. Then I walked out of the house, the air outside cool and fresh against my skin.
I spread my senses, letting them scan the area. It didn’t take long to find them—Steve was practicing his sword out front, cutting through the air with sharp, clean strikes. Ana stood nearby, watching him with quiet interest.
I couldn’t help but smirk. I whistled loudly as I jogged toward them.
“Wow,” I said with a grin. “Talk about showing off.”
I stopped just in front of Steve, who was now wiping sweat from his brow. He raised an eyebrow at me.
“You want to spar?” I asked.
He gave me a tired shake of the head. “Not right now.”
I turned to Ana, raising the same question with my eyes.
She smiled but also shook her head. “I’ll pass.”
I let out a sigh, pretending to be more disappointed than I actually was.
“Alright, alright,” I said, waving it off. “No fights today.”
I looked at both of them, then gestured toward the hut.
“Let’s head out. We’ll only come back after we’ve finished checking out the ruins. Sound good?”
They both nodded.
And with that, we began our next step.
Creation is hard, cheer me up!