The dried toad tasted like salted leather and stale ash.
Ren chewed it slowly, trying not to gag. He could feel the spiritual static around his body dampening. It was like putting a thick wool blanket over a lighthouse.
"Stop making that face," Jian whispered, his eyes still glued to Zelda. "It's a delicacy in the Southern Underworld."
"Your family has terrible taste," Ren muttered, swallowing the last tough chunk.
Ren checked the countdown in his vision.
[ TIME UNTIL PURGE: 63 HOURS, 20 MINUTES. ]
He was alive. He was hidden. But he was empty. He looked at his Spirit Core status.
[ MANA: 0 / 1000 ] [ REGENERATION RATE: 0.01 PER DAY ]
Ren grit his teeth. Point-zero-one. At this rate, it would take him three years to cast a simple fireball.
His core wasn't just empty; it was calcified. He needed a jumpstart. He didn't just need rest—he needed fuel.
I need to hunt, Ren thought grimly. And I need to do it before the Reapers realize I'm starving.
"Alright, class," Mr. Henderson announced, tapping the whiteboard. "Put your books away. Pop quiz on the Qin unification."
A collective groan rippled through the room.
But in the front row, Sarah Miller didn't groan. She gasped.
Ren watched as the Smoke Monkey on her head reacted to the word "Quiz."
It shrieked—a sound only Ren and Jian could hear. The creature doubled in size. It tightened its grip on Sarah's neck. Its fingers, which looked like tar, dug into her temples.
Sarah started to hyperventilate. Her hands shook as she reached for her pencil.
[ ENTITY EVOLVING... ] [ STAGE 2 DETECTED: PANIC INDUCER ]
The monkey opened its mouth and clamped down on the top of her head. It wasn't just sipping vapor anymore; it was chugging it.
"Jian," Ren whispered. "It's hurting her."
Jian didn't look up. "It's a stress reaction, Ren. She's panicked about the quiz. The spirit is just feeding on the spike. It'll pass."
"She can't breathe," Ren hissed.
"If I interfere," Jian murmured, tapping buttons rapidly, "I have to file a Use of Force report. Do you know how many pages that is? Twelve. Single-spaced."
Ren looked at Sarah. She was clutching her chest, turning pale. Mr. Henderson was passing out the papers, oblivious.
The Shaman inside Ren felt a cold, arrogant fury. A bottom-feeding parasite daring to suffocate a human in My presence?
Ren looked at his Spirit Core again. The "0" mocked him.
He didn't need a weapon. He was the weapon.
"Hey, Jian," Ren whispered. "What happens if the monkey just... disappears?"
"It won't," Jian said. "It's latched on. Stress is like superglue for Class-F spirits."
"Watch me."
Ren picked up his heavy hardcover history textbook.
He focused on the monkey. He didn't have Mana to cast a spell. But he had Authority.
Authority was the weight of his soul. It was the memory of being a King.
Ren didn't try to scare the monkey. He didn't try to banish it. He opened his mouth slightly and inhaled. Not with his lungs. With his Core.
[ ANCIENT ART: DEVOUR ]
He projected a single, violent concept at the spirit: [ YOU ARE FOOD ].
[ WARNING: INSUFFICIENT MANA. ] [ ACTIVATE ART USING VITALITY (HP)? ]
Ren didn't hesitate. Do it.
He felt a sharp pain in his chest, like a rib cracking. His vision blurred for a microsecond.
[ HP: 100 -> 95 ]
For a split second, the air in the classroom grew heavy. It wasn't magic; it was the sudden drop in pressure caused by a vacuum opening in the room.
The Smoke Monkey froze. It felt something looking at it. Not a boy. Not a Reaper. A Maw.
The creature shrieked—a sound that shattered glass in the spirit realm. It tried to run. But Ren's spiritual gravity caught it.
Slurp.
The monkey didn't flee out the window. It was pulled backward. Its smoky body distorted, stretching like taffy, sucked across the room in a violent, invisible stream. It swirled into a vortex right in front of Ren's face.
Ren took a deep breath. The smoke rushed into his nose and mouth. It tasted like burnt sugar and cold ash. Menthol and panic.
Gulp.
[ ENTITY CONSUMED: STRESS PARASITE (LEVEL 2) ] [ PROCESS: DIGESTION COMPLETE ] [ MANA RESTORED: +15 ]
THUMP.
Ren dropped his textbook onto the floor. The noise broke the tension.
Ren grabbed his desk, dizzy from the sudden influx of energy. A drop of black, oily sweat rolled down his temple. The rush was intoxicating. It wasn't just mana; it was life.
"Sorry," Ren muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Slipped."
In the front row, Sarah took a huge, gasping breath. The color returned to her face instantly. "I..." Sarah whispered, touching her head. "I feel better. Weird."
Mr. Henderson frowned. "Ren, pick up your book. Sarah, eyes on your paper."
Ren bent down to pick up the book. He checked his status. The "0" was gone. The engine was sputtering to life. He licked his lips. Still hungry.
When he sat back up, Jian was staring at him.
Jian wasn't playing Zelda. His Switch was on the desk. He was looking at Ren with a mixture of confusion and genuine alarm.
"What did you do?" Jian whispered.
"Nothing," Ren said innocently. "I dropped a book. Loud noises scare animals, right?"
Jian narrowed his eyes behind his black frames.
"That wasn't noise," Jian said slowly. "For a second, the spiritual pressure in the room didn't push out. It pulled in. Like a black hole."
Ren shrugged. "Maybe it's the toad. Side effects? Dry mouth?"
Jian studied him for a second longer, looking for the tell. "You're a weird guy, Ren Wu," Jian muttered, finally picking up his Switch. "But nice shot. I didn't want to do the paperwork anyway."
Ren turned his attention to the test paper. He felt the warm hum of 15 Mana points circulating in his meridians. It wasn't much, but it was enough to start the ignition.
"Ren," Mr. Henderson called out. "Eyes on your own paper."
"Yes, sir," Ren said.
He looked at the first question: Who was the primary architect of the Great Wall?
Ren circled General Meng Tian.
Wrong, Ren thought, a small, arrogant smile touching his lips. It was me. Meng Tian just took the credit because I hate signing autographs.
He tapped his chest, feeling the hum of the consumed spirit.
Let the Reapers come. The Shaman was rearming.