A few deep breaths calmed him down, though the same led the syrupy fragrance to tingle his nose and sweeten his throat. Though he was almost sure of it, he now needed to confirm whether his soul actually awakened or not. And if it did, he needed to finish the further initiation procedures as soon as he could. After all, the longer he waited, the lower his chances would be, though the decline counted in months and years...
He closed his eyes and traced the
His hands had learned this spell circuit for many years, even the new versions they released only changed a small part, the database, and he digested them after a few hours of practice at max. Yet, practicing on paper and tracing it in his mind was different. Whenever he tried to do it before, the further he went, the more the earlier parts of the spell circuit blurred out; he couldn't create any effect with it. But now, every stroke, every line, every curve he traced, remained vivid. This proved, beyond a shred of doubt, that his soul awakened.
But the fact didn't distract him, he didn't let it. And he marched ahead, bit by bit, his effort shaped the circuit. Going slow but steady, Ewan finally finished it. And with his final touch, a shockwave blasted from the circuit—it hammered his head as it gouged a space in his mind. His nose bled but a smile tugged on his face, he succeeded.
This space was his soul space. It was dark, there was nothing there. But this was his base, the beginning of his life as a Severynth, an Asheva.
Because he used the spell on himself, his details popped up in front of him; only for his eyes to see.
Status: Malnourished | Injured
Step-0: Soul Awakening [1st Awakening]
Name: Ewan Ayres
Species: Human
Astylinds: 0 [Potential: 4]
Equipment: Common Clothes.
The intangible screen amazed him, his hand phased through it when he touched it. But it was there, he could see it.
It took him a while to calm his thumping heart down. A plethora of ideas shuffled through his mind, but he first had to do the important stuff. He ran down the stairs with Orange stuffed inside his sweatshirt pocket and went to the backyard. He had tied the key to his neck like a pendant with a black thread, and when he neared the shed, it heated up. He took it off and repeated the same process.
Down in the basement, he wore the black claw-ring on his right index finger. It was a bit loose, but he could fix that later with some adjustments—hammer and heat would work wonders.
With its sharp tip, he pricked his left index finger that came out of the bandages and smeared his blood on the length of the claw-ring. The red stayed on the black surface for a second, then the metal sucked it in. A memory imprint popped into his mind as soon as the claw-ring booted—his Pa had left the imprint. It explained everything there was to know about the artifact. How to use it, how to break the seals, how to increase the size inside, everything. The claw-ring also adjusted its curve to fit Ewan's finger while he went through the imprint.
A few moments later, he finished sorting through all the information. For now, he only needed to know how to use the artifact, the rest would come in use later.
He used his 'spirit' and scanned inside. The space was about two meters cube in volume with churning gray fog enveloping it from all sides. It had three black-hardcover books, one white-hardcover book, one reddish-hardcover book, a bulging pouch, a sheathed dagger, and a silver metal dishware. He left them all in the claw-ring for now.
After glancing at the three Astylinds on the table, he left the basement. He needed to practice the two necessary spell circuits; he could go through the inventory after he mastered them.
….
A week went by, the sickening sweet smell around Ewan eased by the day. The sixth day after the awakening, he couldn't smell anything anymore.
The last seven days, he did nothing but practice the spell circuits. He didn't even spare any time for his hygiene these days. And only today when he took a bath, he noticed his changed body in the foggy mirror. The sick skin-and-bones physique was a memory of the past, he was now much healthier in comparison. The muscles covered his bare ribs, his limbs were sturdier, his skin was rosy, and his eyes glistened.
The Ewan in the mirror was almost a stranger to him. The shiny wet raven hair falling to his forehead, the muscles curving on his shoulders, the shape of his arm's muscles—he became a fan of himself. The only black mark in all this was his bandaged hand. If not for that, he would look perfect right now.
And the narcissist in him reared his head in his full glory with a wide grin.
While admiring himself, he noticed the height he had reached in the mirror, and his heart bloomed with expectation. He raced out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his navel and measured his height at the marks he made on the wall. He finally stood at sixth mark, at six feet; it was even a little over…
Orange, who jumped around on the keyboard, stared at him and hooted after seeing his foolish smile. After seven days, he had also grown. He was now the size of Ewan's palm.
"Let's go out today, let's go for a treat."
Orange frolicked around and cackled while Ewan changed his clothes.
….
The sky had darkened, and the streetlamps lit their way when they returned home after a sumptuous meal in a restaurant.
"Whaf can I fo? You can'f eaf anyfhing yef." Orange hooked his mouth by the side and bit his earlobe, growling with childish throat. In the restaurant, while he ate a filling meal, Orange could only drink milk by the side, glaring at him. Even the bouncy sisters that came to pamper him couldn't elicit a hoot. And thus, Ewan suffered from his attacks all the way back. Why did it feel like he was a helpless father of a child now…