The next day, Vael and Kiera ventured farther out, into the richer districts, to hunt for mana cores.
Ash stayed behind, intent on reading a book she had found.
It had been a while since both Vael and Kiera reached the bottleneck.
That constant feeling lingered—like their cores were shedding or splintering, preparing for something new.
But now, they were right on the edge of a breakthrough.
Doing it naturally might be painful—or even dangerous. Which was why they were turning to outside help.
The duo walked toward a neighborhood of higher standing.
Still meant for commoners, technically—but the upper class ones.
Wealthy merchant families, guild executives, and households with ties to aristocracy had their residences in these parts.
And the building that marked the border between the zone they lived in and this upper layer?
You guessed it.
The church.
As they passed it, Vael realized just how massive it truly was.
Yesterday, he'd only seen it from a narrow angle—one that hid its full length.
Now, the entire structure stood before him.
Rows of statues lined the front—prophets of demons, carved in stone, towering over the passersby.
He wasn't sure how the Church had managed to win over the commoners, or even the nobles…
But surely, this grand display had something to do with it.
For now, however, Vael pushed the thought aside. Perhaps, if he ever had time to spare, he'd come back to visit the church.
"So, what exactly are we looking for?" Kiera asked. "You said normal cores aren't enough, right?"
"That's right. What we need is the core of a beast at least at the mid-third stage. We need a massive boost in power to safely break through the bottleneck.
That's why we need money—and why we're selling the Horned Druid's remains to fund this."
Kiera didn't seem too surprised. At this point, the two of them practically shared a mind. The only reason they spoke at all was to fill the silence.
Eventually, they found a merchant—an old woman—who agreed to buy the horns.
They sold them for a hefty sum, since they had undeniable proof of the Druid's identity and strength (namely, the corpse stored in Vael's Spatial Pocket).
The shopkeeper handed them forty silvers for the horns and the body.
It would be enough to carry out their plan.
Finding someone selling cores, however, was a bit more difficult.
Most people were too poor to afford them. And if you had the wealth to buy a core, it usually meant one of two things:
One — you belonged to a rich family, noble or otherwise, and had enough influence and powerful connections to get one without ever setting foot here.
Two — you were a lone warrior, like Vael and Kiera, with enough money… but also enough pride or skill to hunt the beast yourself rather than waste coin on the core.
Of course, cores had other uses than providing power.
That said, there were sellers around.
You just had to know where to look.
The problem was… they didn't.
So, like always, they asked around.
And the people didn't disappoint.
They were pointed toward a quieter part of the market.
Older buildings. Fewer people. Quiet.
Not exactly eerie… but not far from it either.
'They already have low clientele. This isn't helping,' Kiera noted through the mental link.
Vael almost laughed. 'You're right.'
As they walked further in, they spotted a crude wooden sign:
"Core Shop"
"All right! Simple, no over-the-top name. I like it," said Vael with mock enthusiasm.
"Don't get your hopes up," replied his companion. She was well aware of his antics—but smiled nonetheless.
They approached the shop without a second thought.
With the soft chime of a bell, they opened the door to reveal…
A normal-looking shop.
The only abnormal thing was the lack of a shopkeeper.
"Ahh? Buyers?!" a voice called out from the back. "I'll be right there!"
It belonged to a man—though his voice wasn't very deep at all.
The man in question came running out from the room behind the receptionist desk.
He was short, fat, old, and bald.
But—his suit was nice.
A crisp black ensemble, clearly well-maintained, with a pristine white shirt underneath. His most prominent feature was a thick, curled white moustache, proudly perched on his wrinkled face. He stood at a modest 160 centimetres.
Not particularly ugly, but with an odd charm—an aura that fit perfectly with a hidden little shop like this.
"Ahh, young ones, what might interest you two?" asked the vendor with a warm smile.
"We're looking for a stag—"
"Yikes! I forgot to introduce myself! Sorry 'bout that! I'm John, and I'll assist you today!" the man interrupted, raising a hand in greeting. "You were saying, m'lady?"
Kiera stared at him for a moment, blinking once—then again—trying her best to ignore Vael's laughter echoing through their mental link.
"As I was saying," she repeated, calmly, "we're looking for the core of a mid-third stage beast. It doesn't matter which one."
"Ahh yes! Wait a moment, I'll be right back."
And so, John took off running toward the storage room in the back.
The silence he left behind was loud.
"He's something, isn't he?" said Vael, a grin plastered on his face.
"Don't start," warned Kiera, not in the mood for his commentary.
A few minutes later, John came running back, out of breath.
"H-here it is!"
In his arms was a sphere roughly ten centimeters in diameter, covered by a worn tarp.
John dramatically pulled it off, as if building suspense.
Until, finally—the core was revealed.
Normally, when someone defeats an Awakened—beast or human—the core is absorbed by the victor, granting a boost in strength depending on the core's stage.
However, one can choose to block their pathways, refusing to absorb the mana.
In that case, the core remains intact, its energy fully preserved.
"Sir, madam. Is it to your liking?" asked John, beaming with pride.
"It'll do," Vael replied plainly. "How much?"
"One gold, please."
A bit more than what they had earned by selling the Druid's remains—but no matter.
Vael paid without complaint, slipped the core into his storage ring, and walked out with Kiera.
"Come again!" John shouted after them, his voice echoing through the empty street.
Back at the inn, Vael and Kiera got to work without wasting a second.
They took out the core, settled on the floor, and prepared their weapons.
Then, at the same time, they struck it.
In an instant, a torrent of mana burst free.
The pressure was immense—enough to make most people collapse on the spot. Even Ash, resting on the bed, flinched from the sudden wave of energy.
But for Vael and Kiera, this wasn't their first rodeo.
The core's strength was close to their own, so the strain—though heavy—was manageable.
In just under twenty seconds, the core had been fully absorbed.
But that was only the easy part.
Now came the true challenge:
Breaking through to the next stage.
In an instant, their mana surged—then exploded.
Above Vael, a vortex of deep purple light shimmered into existence, warping the air itself.
Distances widened, twisted, collapsed. Space bent around him—unstable, unchained.
Above Kiera, pitch-black aura flared outward like ink in water.
Shadows stretched unnaturally across the room, swallowing light, making noon feel like midnight.
The clash of opposing energies wasn't subtle.
The entire district trembled beneath the weight of it.
In a three-kilometre radius, heads turned. Birds scattered. Conversations stopped.
Even the unawakened felt the shift—like something ancient had stirred awake.
And then, just as suddenly as it came…
The power vanished.
The room fell silent.
Vael and Kiera lay still, drenched in sweat.
They had both passed out.
Stronger.
With each stage ascended, a cultivator's body grew more refined. Not just the mana core—it was said even the flesh approached perfection.
Impurities were purged during the breakthrough, leaving both Vael and Kiera more… visually striking than before.
Sharper features. Stronger bones. Clearer skin.
More alive.
Ash rushed to them, only to recoil from the wave of heat that met her.
She squinted through the steam, quickly spotting her friends collapsed in a pool of viscous, black sludge that smelled like boiled eggs and… regret.
"Uhh… what the hell is that goo?"
Clearly, they were in no state to answer.
And just as clearly, Ash had no intention of bathing them.
Instead, she sighed, walked in with exaggerated reluctance, and began dragging the two away from the goop.
A task far more exhausting than she expected.
After several grunts and a moment where she nearly dislocated Vael's shoulder, she managed to lay them down in a cleaner corner of the room.
Now, the cleanup.
She fetched the broom from the bathroom and poked the goo.
It jiggled.
Ash grimaced.
It wasn't quite liquid. More like a half-dried slime. Thick. Clingy. And the stench? Absolutely vile.
She forced herself through the task, sweeping the impurities into a bucket, gagging the entire time.
When done, she shoved the bucket out the window—bucket and all—and slammed the window shut.
With a heavy sigh, she gave each of them a pillow, flopped onto the bed herself, and muttered:
"Next time, I'm charging for this."
Then, she fell asleep.