42. Not The Same
The black orb slid down his throat and down into his stomach where it dissolved, a small feeling of warmth almost unnoticeable filled his stomach for a few seconds before it vanished. The young elf did not show any sign of discomfort as he looked at something only he could see.
[You have consumed a dormant beast core
You have grown stronger]
The young elf weakly gazed at the information that appeared shortly after.
[Name: Eryndor Sylvaren
Race: Elf (Holy)
Title: Fallen Prince, Degenerate
Rank: Beginner Mage
Core: Dormant
Attribute: (Divine), (Legacy Of the crescent prince), (cursed)
Magic Point: 980/1000]
On seeing his his mana point the young elf started to pull at his hair as he screamed out in agony and rage. "What the hell, so damn close to 1000. What kind of bad luck is this?"
