He clutched his chest, golden and orange flames seeping through the crevices as he digested his gains.
If he could master plasma manipulation in eight centuries, the knowledge of the flame of avarice reduced that time by a century and a half. The smaller improvement didn't disappoint him since many parts overlapped.
But the thing of interest was the passive ability he had inherited.
Like Ploutiel, his body could absorb flames, heat, and photons weaker than him to restore essence. Better, it might even work with demonic essence, meaning his progress toward the seventh evolution would skyrocket.
Yet, his lips twisted. There was no heat to try in the abyss, only this annoying icy wind and the growls of abyssal spawns.
Adam scratched his head. He was putting the cart before the horses there. The sixth evolution came first and, unlike last time, he wouldn't pray to remain safe.
