After finalizing his purchases, Yur found only a small pouch lying on the ground.
"Where are the rest of the things?" he wondered aloud, picking it up between his claws.
[All items have been stored in the Pouch of Holding.]
He turned the pouch over in his hands, searching for a seam or hidden pocket. Its exterior looked unremarkable—simple brown material tied at the top with a sturdy cord. "How do you use this?" he murmured. He scratched his head with a sharp claw, his flame-like hair swirling but causing him no harm.
Deciding to try the obvious, he loosened the cord and slipped his hand inside. At once, a translucent screen popped into view:
[Pouch of Holding: 8% Filled!]
It displayed an inventory grid, listing the items he'd just bought. A number at the bottom showed the internal space usage, fortunately still low. "I see," he muttered, tapping the icon for the Seed of the Orb. The seed instantly materialized in his palm, vanishing from the pouch's window.
It was a small, pure-white kernel without the slightest blemish. "So this goes into my Orb?" He recalled the shop's description, still uncertain how to proceed. "Do I just… shove it in?" Nervously, he positioned a claw near his grey Orb, prepared to cut it open.
[Host is advised not to damage Orb!]
[If Orb is damaged, Host will lose half of his abilities!]
Startled, he halted mid-swing, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "That was close…"
[Host should bring the Seed of the Orb near the Orb!]
Following the system's guidance, he pressed the seed gently against the ashen sphere on his chest. Immediately, the white kernel melted into the Orb's surface without resistance. Yur watched, eyes wide as it vanished.
"How long before I see any difference?" he asked, looking down at his chest.
[Host's Bloodline and Orb are Unique!]
He sighed, interpreting that to mean there's no set timetable. Still, the idea of unlocking further powers intrigued him.
"Anyway," he said, shaking off his worries, "it's time to plant those other seeds." He retrieved the Erept Mother seed next.
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Erept Mother
A Mother Tree that produces demons known as Erept. They stand about a meter tall, possess wings, and make excellent food, slaves, or messengers. At maturity, it spawns ten Erepts daily!
|——————————————————————|
He couldn't help a crooked smile. "Wings, huh? That might be handy later." The mention of them being "food" didn't surprise him. Demons seemed to eat one another constantly. But having potential slaves made him pause. He recalled his own days chained as a slave—days that ended in gruesome escape.
"I'm free now," he whispered, an odd emotion twisting in his chest. "To think I'll take someone else's freedom…it almost feels like a sick reward." Despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny his excitement at gaining underlings. Not long ago, he'd have laughed at the mere idea of controlling a demon.
He returned his focus to the task. "Zul, where do I plant this?"
[Calculating…]
[Map updated with optimal spots!]
A red line guided him across the bleak terrain, showing various suitable locations with color-coded indicators. He chose the brightest red—a prime location.
The ground was still scorched and rough, but the system assured him it was ideal for the new Mother Tree.
Recalling the planting instructions, he dug a hole in the soil with his claws. He'd tied the Pouch of Holding around his neck for convenience, so retrieving the seed was simple. Rather than a typical kernel, it looked more like a miniature sapling—tiny leaves already sprouting.
"Grow well," he murmured, dropping it in. A faint memory surfaced of how normal plants needed fertile soil and water. Here, he thought, we have heat, gloom, and demon blood. Surely that counts.
His claws shoveled dirt and stones back over it, patting them down. "Now for its nourishment," he said aloud, checking the planting guide.
[Host must gather liquid from the Bahirath!]
"Oh, right. That's basically blood, too," he remembered, relieved he wouldn't have to mutilate himself again. He bounded back down the rocky tunnel, scooping up Bahirath fluid in his cupped hands. However, no matter how carefully he walked, he spilled most of it on the steep climb back.
"Ugh!" he snarled, watching tiny imps swarm to lap at the puddles. In frustration, he stomped on them, crushing bone and flesh beneath his feet. "This is too annoying," he grumbled, taking a seat to think.
He suddenly brightened. "I'll just fill my mouth!" With a determined grin, he plunged his head into the nearest pool. Warm, metallic-tasting liquid flooded his cheeks. Keeping it sealed like a water balloon, he jogged up the steps. At the top, he bent low and spat it all out onto the buried seed.
[Two more trips shall suffice!]
"Seriously?" he mumbled, chest heaving. Still, he repeated the process twice, ignoring the rivulets of blood trickling down his face. Thankfully, his flaming hair remained unaffected. "Done!" he gasped, flopping onto his back. His wings unfurled beneath him, providing a macabre cushion.
A short rest later, he turned to his final task: planting the Asheseed Relic. The item wasn't so much a seed as a small glass orb etched with complex symbols.
"How do I use this?" he asked, rolling it between his fingers.
[Host must fill it with your own blood via a Ritual!]
"A ritual?" The memory of his previous sacrifice—and the agony of repeated self-harm—made him cringe. "Isn't there a simpler way?"
[Ritual: Blood Spilling!]
A diagram lit up in his vision, ignoring his complaints. Yur groaned. "No! I don't want to!" he muttered, scanning the instructions. His face fell at the final requirement:
|——————————————————————|
Ritual of Blood Spilling
Host must sacrifice a piece of Ashkavaal Origin!
An Ashkavaal's Heart!
|——————————————————————|
He stared in disbelief. "You've gotta be kidding…" The idea of losing part of his own heart sent a chill through him, and yet the ritual's text was clear. An Ashkavaal's Heart. As the only Ashkavaal, that meant his.
Clutching the glass orb tighter, Yur found himself caught between dread and curiosity. He had already transcended humanity, survived unimaginable pain, and performed two horrifying rituals. Was he willing—or even able—to take this next step?