Deep in thought, Damon juggled the hare's head before coming to a decision.
With the reinforcement still active, he could hear the faintest sounds that were undetectable in battle.
The sound of insects crawling below the ground under his feet was particularly disgusting, but what drew his attention was the vast array of colors he could now see, spreading through every inch of the forest.
This had to be spiritual energy, but somehow it felt different, much older than his, almost ancient and primal.
'This must have been what that old pervert was seeing,' Damon muttered internally.
He couldn't imagine where it all was coming from, but he understood this energy seemed to be supporting all life in the forest. It was this spiritual energy that had allowed his spiritual perception to advance!
Just then, Damon's eyes widened as a sharp pain coursed through his chest. He dropped the head, and his cheeks puckered as he spat a blotch of red liquid onto the grass.
"I should probably sort out my injuries..."
He wiped the corners of his mouth with his sleeve, picked up the head, and tied it to the green pack on his back before standing up. Then he walked toward the nearest bend of the river.
It was another five minutes of walking, but upon seeing the gentle waters, the boy didn't hesitate. Damon threw off his top to reveal a torso with more defined muscles, then bent his knees by the riverbed.
He started by wetting his hair and face, letting the water wash away the blood and dirt gathered at his crown from rolling around, then splashed water across the bloodied leather, clearing every groove.
The task took longer than expected, and he wished he could have simply dived in and given his whole body a good wash. But he was wary of the dangers that could be lurking nearby and the blood that hadn't yet dispersed downstream.
'I should also do some meditation to restore my energy while I'm waiting for my shirt to dry; maybe with some spiritual energy, I could even dry my shirt quicker.'
Grabbing his pack once more, Damon stood up and moved closer to the treeline. He hung his top on a low tree branch to dry, plopped down, and closed his eyes, monitoring his spiritual energy as it slowly recovered.
However, his brows soon knitted in annoyance.
"I didn't think it would be this slow." Damon sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "I was hoping I was special or something, but is it possible I'm just average?"
Maybe the range of his newly enhanced eyesight was also considered average among Specters as well.
As that thought ran through his mind, he stood up and admired the sun dazzling on the river's surface, a subtle mist drifting across his skin like cold breaths. "I wonder if it's possible to absorb spiritual energy...?"
The surroundings were filled with it, so it seemed a waste to let it go untouched.
Damon concentrated on the energy around him and tried to pull at it with his own. He imagined his mind as a black hole and his spiritual energy as the force pulling everything in and funneling it to the soul itself.
'It's a little cold...' he thought.
It took him some time to get used to the sensation, but after around ten minutes, he had become quite good at pulling spiritual energy into himself.
As soon as the force entered Damon's body, he felt the cold grow into a stable warmth, flowing into his muscles. Warmth overtook his body as the grass beneath his feet drained of its color and withered away.
It was like sinking into a bed of clouds, and he opened his arms as if to hug the sun. Yet when his eyelids lowered, they suddenly shot back open.
The crimson hue over his pupils began to flicker, and a crackling sound reached his eardrums.
Pa!
At that moment, a fragmented vision flooded his sight, slowly taking shape in his mind.
Damon's consciousness was pulled into the vision.
A small room materialized before him, with sliding panel walls on all sides. It looked similar to the one he had woken up in at Tomoe's house, but there was no furniture to be seen. A single yellowish lantern hung from a chain in the ceiling, casting a dim, swaying glow across the wooden floor.
Beneath that light, a man with sharp Huaren features sat in black robes, his long silky black hair falling over his shoulders and his legs folded beneath him.
His bare chest peeked through the loose collar of the robe. Between his legs, a woman in white robes sat with her back pressed against him.
Because their bodies were so close, one might have mistaken them for lovers.
However, the man's hands were stained with something dark, and he held two needles, moving them slowly over the top of her head. The vision flickered, distorting his movements into an incomprehensible blur, but the stains only seemed to spread.
Damon strained to see where they were coming from.
Then his focus shifted to the woman's face. Her features were oddly familiar.
'That's... Tomoe?' His pupils dilated.
The old woman's face was slack. Her mouth hung open, her eyes blank and unfocused. Drool coated her chin, glistening under the lamplight. She looked as if she had suffered a stroke, her body limp and unresponsive.
'W-what is he doing...?!' Dread coiled in Damon's chest, cold and suffocating.
He tried to push deeper into the vision, desperate to see more. Suddenly, a slender hand moved into view, as if it belonged to him.
A young woman's voice cut sharply through the silence, laced with impatience.
"How much longer will this take?"
Before Damon could hear the man's response, the vision collapsed into darkness.
His mind reeled as he grabbed his head. The vision had shattered, but a throbbing pain lanced through his skull. He struggled to catch his breath as the crimson hue in his eyes flickered and dimmed. He couldn't maintain the flow of spiritual energy after what he'd seen.
'What the hell... did I just see?'
...
Elsewhere, Kuroushi's form cut through the pale sky, descending toward Tomoe's house.
The crow flew through an open window and landed on the wooden floor with a soft thud of talons against polished wood.
The old woman sat facing the window, her silhouette still and silent against the light. But the bird walked past her, going further to the back of the room, where shadows pooled thick and deep.
At that moment, a slender hand extended from the darkness.
Kuroushi hopped onto it without hesitation.
"You were right, m'lady," it said. "The boy intends to run off on his own."
The crow then began to recount everything that had happened while traveling with Damon: the hunt, the tiger, the hare, the battle, and the boy's unexpected victory.
It spoke at length of the boy's crimson eyes and his sharp instincts in particular, but the figure showed no reaction.
A moment passed in silence as the crow waited for a response.
"Is something wrong?" Kuroushi asked, tilting its head.
But instead of the figure replying, the answer came from the old woman by the window.
"It's nothing." Her voice was calm, measured. "You should rest now."
Hearing this, Kuroushi lowered its head, its feathers relaxing. Then, slowly, the bird began to dissolve. Its form softened, melting into the shadow at the figure's feet until nothing remained but four humble words.
"As you wish, Master."