In the novel, origin energy was defined as the concept— potential realization.
Not fire. Not water. Not lightning. Those were only forms it could take.
Origin energy was raw, unshaped possibility, the breath of the void before creation. When guided by will, it didn't simply empower— it transformed. It coaxed hidden possibilities into the real world, forcing what "could be" into what "was."
Strengthening his muscles? That was potential realization— turning the potential of his body's dormant fibers into actual power.
Reinforcing bone? Another realization— the potential for greater density dragged forward, made real.
Even a simple punch could become devastating, because origin energy bent the potential of flesh and force to its limit.
But origin energy wasn't limited to the body.
It could thread into objects, saturating steel until it sang like a living weapon.
It could soak into the ground, coaxing dormant roots to sprout like spears.
It could lace the air, birthing fire, storms, illusions— whatever the wielder believed was possible.
And Levi? He had always obsessed over this part of the lore.
Where others saw weapons or elemental manifestations, he had seen… loopholes. Weird, stupid, reckless loopholes.
"What's the potential of stomach acid?"
He muttered, grin tugging his lips even as his stomach simmered with unnatural warmth. "To corrode. To dissolve. To break down anything, no matter how tough."
And with origin energy— what if he could drag that potential into its absolute peak?
What if a single drop of his stomach acid could eat through steel? Through bone? Through the hides of beasts even blades couldn't scratch?
Levi shivered, both in fear and in exhilaration. This wasn't just power. This was creativity unbound.
And for the second time since arriving in this world, he admitted that he was reckless, borderline suicidal.
Then, deciding the energy had soaked in long enough, Levi nudged it upward.
It wasn't smooth. The current of origin energy dragged sluggishly at first, crawling up through his channels like molten breath seeping into pipes that weren't meant to hold it. He felt it snake through different channels, through his gut, chest, then climbing— slow, deliberate— toward his throat.
By the time it reached the base of his neck, his insides simmered. His breaths grew sharp, every exhale tinged with heat.
And then—
Levi opened his mouth.
A hiss tore free, and a jet of yellowish vapor burst out. It wasn't flame. It wasn't smoke. It was the breath of corrosion itself— stomach acid dragged into potential, exhaled as a weapon.
The vapor hit the surface of the shallow water before him.
Fssshhh!
Instantly, steam roared upward in a violent plume. The water churned, bubbled, then collapsed into nothing as a whole section evaporated in the span of heartbeats. The stench of scorched minerals clawed at his nose.
Levi stumbled back, eyes wide, throat seared raw. He clutched his chest, coughing hard as a bitter, burning tang coated his tongue.
Acid reflux. Except this time, it wasn't just indigestion— it felt like his own insides wanted to melt.
But through the rasp of his throat, through the raw sting, he laughed. A breathless, wheezing laugh.
It had worked.
Not fire, not lightning— his stomach acid. Potential dragged to its peak, spat out as a weapon that could erase most of the things it touched.
After calming down he excitedly called out the system.
"Look, look!". Levi's grin split wide, voice cracking from excitement and acid-burn. "I re-created the steam Crest of the Obscoria Clan!".
[Correction.] The system's voice cut in, voice sincere. [The Obscoria Clan's lava crest is considered the superior form. Steam Crest is considered a degradation of the Lava Crest.]
Levi froze mid-grin, his smile hung on his face like a broken mask. But the system wasn't done.
[Highly volatile, yes, but lacking the permanence of true lava]
"How much points do you think I would have if I sold you?".
[????]. The system was speechless, what did it say. Apart from pointing out the fact.
*****
After that episode, he stripped his old corpse with a disgusted grimace. The sight of his own body made his skin crawl. It felt like robbery, or desecration. But it wasn't theft if it was your own body, was it?
After some hesitation, he washed the butler's clothes thoroughly in the basin, scrubbing until the water turned murky. Only when he was sure the stains were gone did he finally put them on.
The bandages he discarded. Their borrowed healing effect had faded, but his wounds had mostly closed. And now, with origin energy flowing through him, he discovered a trick— if he focused the current into an injured area, the pain dulled and the flesh knitted faster. As long as the wound wasn't fatal, he could force his body to recover or at least stop the bleeding.
He left the ruined house.
The half-submerged door creaked open, spilling him into the open world for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The air hit him— clean, wet, carrying the earthy weight of soil and leaves.
Before him stretched a lush forest.
The canopy towered high, trees so tall they seemed to stitch the sky together. Their crowns swayed with the wind, scattering beams of sunlight through shifting leaves. Moss clung to the roots, damp and soft underfoot, while vines sagged from branch to branch like the ropes of a forgotten temple.
The air was alive with sound, chirping insects, the distant rush of a stream. The vivid greenery of life.
It was beautiful. But beauty in this world was never always safe.
"Alright". He muttered, tugging the butler's coat tighter around himself. "Let's see what tries to kill me first."
But first he had to cross the basin of water in front of him.