Cedar's mind was plunged into a chaotic whirl of visions, fragments of the Magloth's memories clashing against his own. He felt its raw, primal essence, a force that had once been untamed, now intertwined with his thoughts.
In the first image, the Magloth was a tiny creature, still an infant, its crystalline body only faintly glowing as it nuzzled against its mother's side.
The scene was warm, comforting, a sharp contrast to the brutality that would follow.
Cedar could feel the tenderness, the soft rumbling growls of the mother as she protected her young.
He could feel the warmth of her body against the cold forest air, the gentle rhythm of her breath as she slept, guarding the small bear-like creature from the dangers of the world.
The next memory came crashing in—violent, unrelenting.
The Magloth, now fully grown, was no longer cradled in the safety of its mother's protection. It stood alone in the forest, its claws gleaming under the pale moonlight. Cedar felt the tension in its limbs, the hunger in its eyes as it stalked the dense undergrowth.
There, in the shadow of a tree, it first encountered the three-headed wolf—a creature of untold ferocity, its fangs bared as it circled the Magloth.
The battle was vicious. Cedar could feel every moment—the Magloth's heart racing as it fought for survival. The weight of each blow struck the Magloth's body as though they were his own.
He felt the blood that was spilled, the burning heat of the creature's claws ripping through the wolf's flesh. The Magloth tore through the wolf's hide, its chest cut deeply in the process. Cedar could feel the scar, the pain it had carried ever since, as it marked the Magloth for life—a reminder of that first kill, the first real taste of its own strength.
Then, another fragment—a memory of solitude. The Magloth, its chest marked by that old scar, prowled the wilderness, growing ever stronger, its heart and mind shaped by countless battles.
The weight of the years bore down on it, a ceaseless hunger for more power, more blood. Cedar felt the same yearning, the deep-seated need for more, for something greater.
And then the visions shattered like brittle glass. The world around him returned to a dizzying blur, his senses overwhelmed by the rush of raw emotion and power that had flooded his mind.
Cedar gasped, stumbling backward as his vision cleared. His heart was still pounding, his body trembling as though he'd just fought the Magloth himself. The vivid images were gone, replaced by a lingering emptiness, as though a part of him had been torn away.
He felt the weight of what he had just experienced—everything the Magloth had lived through, everything it had become.
But now, it was gone. The bond, the shared power, had faded, leaving only a faint trace in the corner of his mana core.
Cedar's gaze fell to his chest, and his hand trembled as he instinctively reached for the scar left by the three-headed wolf. But there was no wound.
He shook off the memory. He wasn't a Magloth; he was Cedar.
Instead, Cedar's mana core thrummed with newfound energy. In the corner, faint yet unmistakable, a tiny ember of red pulsed with life.
His second mana circle gleamed with renewed brilliance, its power surging as if stretched beyond its limits. Cedar could feel the difference—a sharper, more refined strength. The gap between his second and third circles had noticeably narrowed, weeks of progress seemingly condensed into mere moments.
His hand hovered over his chest, fingers tracing the faint warmth of the red ember embedded in his core. It was barely visible, almost like a trick of the light, but its presence was undeniable. Strength coursed through him—not overwhelming, but steady, measured. This wasn't just raw power; it was the Magloth's. A trace of the creature's essence lingered within him, vivid and alive.
Exhaling slowly, Cedar tried to steady his trembling body. The Magloth had left more than its power—it had left its mark.
"This was your first time consuming power from fresh blood, wasn't it?" Len's voice cut through the silence, sharp and deliberate.
Cedar flinched and turned to see the vampire watching him, arms crossed, crimson eyes narrowed. Len's tone was laced with both disapproval and faint amusement, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I intercepted the process," Len said, stepping closer.
"What do you mean?" Cedar asked cautiously, his voice low and wary.
Len's gaze flickered, his expression turning more serious. "When a creature dies, its essence doesn't simply vanish. Fresh blood carries more than just power—it holds its will, its instincts, and even its memories."
Cedar's stomach twisted as fragments of the Magloth's life surfaced in his mind. The warmth of its mother's embrace, the wild thrill of its first hunt, the sharp agony of the scar etched across its chest from the three-headed wolf.
Each moment had felt real, as if he'd lived it himself. And yet, when the vision ended, it shattered like brittle glass.
"Most wild bloody vessels who stumble onto this method are consumed by it," Len continued, his voice calm yet deliberate. "They feed recklessly, craving more with every drop, but their cores become polluted with the wills of their prey. Their minds fracture, overwhelmed by memories that aren't their own. In the end, they become monsters—twisted abominations of the power they sought to claim."
Cedar's heart sank as Len's words sank in, his fists clenching instinctively.
Len's sharp gaze softened ever so slightly. "I erased most of it but I left a fragment of its will on purpose," he said. "Just enough to leave a trail, not enough to destroy you. You'll need it for what's coming—training in blood magic."
"Blood magic?" Cedar's throat felt dry as the words left his mouth.
Len nodded. "The essence you absorbed is a tool—dangerous, yes, but powerful. If you learn to harness it, you can wield it without losing yourself. That fragment is your first step."
"And if I can't control it?" Cedar asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Len's smirk widened, the sharp edge of his fangs flashing. "Then you'll have me," he said simply, his tone calm but unwavering. "I'll protect you, Cedar. But if you falter... if you let it take over..." His gaze darkened, his voice dropping. "You'll be no better than the Magloth—a mindless beast consumed by the power you couldn't master."
Cedar swallowed hard. The ember in his core, faint as it was, now felt like a weight pressing against him. He could still feel the lingering threads of the Magloth's life, clawing at the edges of his mind like distant echoes.
"Training starts tonight," Len said, his voice breaking the tense silence. He turned away, his tone cool and deliberate. "In your dreams. This is the quick and raw power you've always wanted—and I'm giving it to you. Don't waste it."
With those final words, Len's voice faded from Cedar's mind, and his body disappeared from Cedar's sight, revealing that what he had seen was merely an illusion, not the real person.
Cedar stood there for a moment longer, his breathing steadying even as his heart remained heavy. The Magloth's power was now a part of him, for better or worse.