In the Tower, strength and influence were two pillars of respect. Climbing alone required strength, but influence—the ability to sway others or hold strategic power—was another beast entirely. For Reece, amassing strength had always been the simpler task, but influence? That required time and patience, both of which he was painfully short on.
Taking a moment to pause on the third floor of the Tower, he found himself in the Shaded Gloom: a twisted forest where the air was damp and reeked of rot, and the ground squelched beneath his feet with every step. Pools of murky, stagnant water dotted the landscape, reflecting the skeletal trees that loomed like sentries in the perpetual fog.
This floor was worlds apart from the fiery clearings he'd left on the second, where the goblins lay as ash and embers. Here, his every step seemed muffled, absorbed by the bog-like terrain, an endless swamp cloaked in silence.
The Shaded Gloom, he thought with a sigh, pausing to survey his surroundings. The shadows were alive with the quiet hum of unseen creatures, blending into the fog like phantoms. Mud-goblins were the dominant species here—larger and sturdier than their grub-goblin counterparts from the second floor.
The mud-goblins were adapted to the swamp, with slimy, moss-colored skin and webbed limbs that let them move fluidly through marshes. Despite their superior stealth and ability to blend in with the terrain, they were weak in direct combat. A basic area spell was more than enough to wipe them out, but Reece had noticed that his current cores were showing signs of strain.
He conjured a flat stone slab to sit on, refusing to dirty his clothes in the muck. "I think I need more than a break," he muttered aloud, feeling the fatigue creeping into his bones. "These novice cores are going to be the death of me if I keep draining them like this." He leaned back, letting the cool air wash over him, his body still humming from the endless spellcasting.
"Master, you've been using an SS-ranked spell continuously for over thirty-six hours," Prima reminded him, her voice laced with concern. "Your mana heart is almost empty. Even if it regenerates quickly, straining it like this could cause irreparable damage."
Reece considered her words, his gaze drifting over the mist-covered forest. He knew she was right. His body, although powerful, currently had mortal limits. A single misstep could result in disaster, an implosion of mana that would reduce him to ashes. But the thought of resting irked him. Every minute he wasted was one less minute for Liz—one less moment to help her choose a bloodline that could secure her future.
"Master… I understand you're worried about her, but you need to move methodically," Prima's voice was soft but firm. "Nothing will change overnight, especially since you regressed early this time."
He exhaled, frustration bubbling within him. "Sadly for us, Prima… it will if I slack. Her window is narrow, and I can't afford to wait."
With a sigh, he closed his eyes, reaching into the depths of his mana reserves, tapping into the primal energy that flowed faintly within him. He cast [Sanctuary], a high-tier barrier spell that surrounded him in a soft, protective aura, ensuring no monsters or curious climbers would disturb him.
Prima's voice was laced with apprehension as she sensed his intentions. "Master, what exactly are you planning now?"
Reece shifted into a cross-legged position, settling his breathing as he prepared his body for what was to come. "I've exhausted myself intentionally. I pushed my limits to create an opportunity—a chance to expand my cores."
"But body reconstruction?" Prima's voice grew sharper, incredulous. "Here, in the middle of the third floor? Do you realize how wasteful that is? We can get to a better place no? A place to make the process easier in fact !"
"I don't have a choice," he replied calmly. "Searching for a decent place and waiting for my body to evolve naturally will take far too long. Body reconstruction isn't just a physical process; it's a deliberate transformation. I need to trigger it now."
She gave a reluctant sigh. "Using an empty core as a trigger… a risky choice, Master."
"Maybe so, but the benefits outweigh the risks." He chuckled softly. "And besides…., pain has always been an old friend."
He closed his eyes, centering himself as he prepared to begin the delicate process of body reconstruction. For the average climber, body reconstruction was a rare milestone, an initiation into a realm of strength that few ever reached. The process was as brutal as it was transformative, requiring a complete purging of impurities and the conversion of mana into physical substance.
By saturating his body with mana, then channeling it inward, he could cleanse himself at the cellular level. This was the first step toward achieving a mana body—a body that acted as a single, massive core. Such a transformation allowed climbers to reach realms far beyond the mortal scope, paving the way for entry into the immortal realms.
Most climbers, however, needed a minimum of three cores—a mana heart, mana brain, and mana lungs—to even attempt body reconstruction. But Reece, fueled by primal mana and possessing a staggering affinity for it, had learned to bypass this. By depleting his mana heart and filling it beyond capacity, he could channel the overflow of primal mana throughout his body, igniting the process from within.
"Pain is only but temporary," he murmured, steeling himself as he felt the first wave of primal mana surge through his veins, raw and unfiltered.
Using [Soul Sense], Reece directed his awareness inward, mapping out every fiber of his being, every muscle and vein saturated with primal energy. His first target was the impurities—the microscopic remnants of waste and resistance that limited his potential. Bit by bit, he sent controlled bursts of mana into his cells, obliterating impurities in tiny explosions of energy. Each flash of mana seared his insides, leaving trails of pain that danced across his nerves.
The agony was immediate and unrelenting. His nerves felt like they were on fire, his blood vessels throbbing as the mana tore through them, burning away every speck of imperfection. He clenched his fists, grinding his teeth as he forced himself to remain still, resisting the instinct to lash out or lose focus.
For six grueling hours, he endured this painstaking process, his mind honed on the task as he meticulously targeted and destroyed each impurity within his body. The hardest part was maintaining peak saturation levels; even the slightest drop in mana could reset the process, forcing him to start over.
Outside his barrier, the only visible sign of his transformation was a dense, multicolored mist forming around him—a manifestation of the primal mana condensing in the air. Any climber passing by might mistake it for a natural phenomenon, but those with sharp eyes would recognize it as the aftereffect of an absurd high-level reconstruction attempt.
His nerves and blood vessels—delicate networks that demanded precision—were the first to transform. With each impurity destroyed, his senses expanded, the boundaries of his Soul Sense stretching beyond what he thought possible. His range, once limited to shy of over a hundred meters, now spanned close to a full kilometer, allowing him to perceive the world around him with unprecedented clarity.
As his perception sharpened, he felt an immediate change in his mental faculties. Maintaining the barrier spell, [Sanctuary], now felt effortless, and channeling the vast amounts of primal mana no longer strained his focus. His mind, once working like a powerful engine, now felt limitless, like a supercomputer fine-tuned to perfection. He could feel every pulse of mana, every particle shifting within him.
The rest of the reconstruction flowed faster now. Over the next ten hours, he worked systematically, eliminating impurities from each major organ, each layer of muscle, each sinew and bone. Finally, as he neared completion, he focused on the last, most critical parts: his heart and lungs. As the final impurities dissolved, he prepared for the last, most painful phase of reconstruction.
"Prima, remove my clothes," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. The intense energy buildup was reaching its peak, and he didn't want to destroy the gear he'd so carefully modified.
Without hesitation, Prima complied, and in an instant, his clothes vanished, leaving only his briefs intact. He steadied his breathing, focusing as he flooded his heart and lungs with primal mana. The transformation began in earnest, each beat of his heart sending waves of pain coursing through his body. He braced himself, muscles tensing as he felt his skin begin to darken, the outer layers crumbling to ash.
From an outsider's perspective, Reece was undergoing a grotesque metamorphosis. His skin flaked away in blackened patches, exposing raw muscle that pulsed and twitched, as if alive with a will of its own. His muscles followed suit, shriveling and disintegrating layer by layer until his organs lay bare, exposed to the open air.
Next, his blood vessels and neural system dissolved, then his organs shrank and twisted, wrung dry of all impurities before crumbling to dust. His bones were the last to go, breaking down into fine particles until all that remained were his lungs, heart, and brain, hovering in the air, emitting a soft, mana filled glow.
Reece appeared dead by any conventional measure. His body had been reduced to nothing but three floating organs—heart, lungs, and brain—suspended in the air. To the untrained eye, this would look like the end, the grim result of an experiment gone horribly wrong. But to those with knowledge of advanced mana techniques, this was the beginning of something far greater. A faint outline of mana lingered where his body had once been, a spectral blueprint waiting to be filled.
As the final impurities dissolved, Reece's mana shifted, responding to his silent command. The primal energy that had been tearing him apart now began to rebuild him from the inside out. Like an artist painting on a blank canvas, each part of his body reformed, this time reinforced by dense, liquefied mana—a feat beyond mortal reach, reserved only for those who had reached realms of power few could comprehend.
His nerves came first, threading through his body with swift precision. Each new connection pulsed with liquefied mana, making his entire nervous system a conduit for extreme and ungodly synapses that could be seen flashing ever so slightly. Blood vessels formed next, winding through his limbs and chest, carrying a liquid so dense with mana that it seemed to glow. Where once he'd had blood, he now had streams of concentrated power, liquefied primal mana, coursing through him.
Bones reassembled themselves, harder and denser than before, reinforced with mana that made them almost virtually indestructible. His muscles wrapped around his bones in taut, powerful fibers, brimming with energy, each contraction a potential explosion of force. Layer by layer, his body grew back, but now it was different—stronger, purer, honed to a perfection that few could achieve.
The final layer, his skin, reformed slowly, taking on a darker, richer hue. His senses sharpened as each cell connected, his perception clearer than ever before. The transformation was complete, yet he could feel the lingering echo of power coursing through him, a silent hum beneath his skin.
As the last patch of skin settled, a booming resonance echoed through the Shaded Gloom—a shockwave of mana released from his transformation. The blast was felt across the entire floor, a ripple that shook the trees and scattered creatures, alerting climbers for miles around. Reece took a deep breath, feeling the surge of primal energy in his lungs, his body brimming with newfound strength.
Although partially, close to 20% of his peak strength, he was back. And now, it was time to do the crazy stuff…
With his senses heightened, the Shaded Gloom seemed to open up before him. He could see further, perceive creatures lurking in the shadows that would have been invisible to others. Every flicker of movement, every whisper of sound reached him as though the forest were alive and speaking directly to him.
Moving with a newfound grace, he set off deeper into the swamp, his eyes cold and focused, ready to hunt down any creature that crossed his path.