"Please retrieve the vial of World Essence from the inventory and ingest it," the guide instructed.
Aric did so, pulling out a small flask. As he looked inside, he saw it contained barely a couple of drops.
"Now place your hand on your neck, just below your larynx and slightly to the left of the trachea," the guide instructed again.
"I have not the slightest idea what those words mean." Aric glanced at her.
For a split second, Aric thought he heard the guide sigh as she floated towards his face. She then touched a spot on his neck, and he felt something almost like a cool breeze on the spot.
"Please place your hand here," she guided.
"Okay?" Aric awaited the next instruction.
"Now strike that spot as hard as you can."
"What?" Aric turned to the guide.
"Using your finger, strike that point as hard as you can," the guide repeated.
Confused but deciding to follow any and every instruction, Aric did as he was told. With as much force as he could muster, he struck the point. He groaned in pain—well, at least he thought he did—but no sound escaped his mouth.
"You have temporarily paralyzed specific nerves, rendering the vocal cords unable to vibrate and thus unable to produce sound. This step is necessary as you are going to scream during this process, a lot, and to avoid interruption, you must not be able to make a sound."
Aric was already determined to go through this in its entirety, but it didn’t make it sound any less horrific the further they went.
The prince nodded.
"Now, ingest all the contents of the vial and brace yourself."
Aric nodded again. Without another thought, Aric tipped the vial to his lips and drank it all in one swift motion. The liquid was cold, almost burning as it slid down his throat, and within moments, he felt it—a surge of ki so powerful that it nearly knocked him unconscious. Then, the pain began.
’So...I died.’
No, it was more, well, less than that. This time, as he floated in the abyss, he had nothing—not even his soul. Even that was gone.
All that was left of him was the fleeting irrelevance of his mortal consciousness.
He was, by all means, worse than dead.
However, just then, in that moment, he felt warmth—a feeling that felt like a forgotten ability, one from so long ago that it seemed unnatural, foreign.
But as quickly as it came, it disappeared, back to the cold nothingness that was his, just like his failure was his.
’Is this where you stop?’
The voice could have been that of another just as much as it could be his own. He didn’t know, and quite frankly, it did not matter.
’What do you have to live for? to continue on for?’
’You blamed your fate, the world...but who will you blame now?’
’You cannot die here...I cannot die here.’
’...not yet.’
Aric flailed his arms in protest of his fading existence, but he had no limbs. He screamed in refusal, but he had no voice.
However, each act, each time he struggled and rejected this end, the warmth returned, and it grew and engulfed him.
And in that defiance, he was born a new man.
[You have obtained the Martial God Foundation.]
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