After finding his way to the back room and getting comfortable, Marcus made sure to search for other books about cultivation to clarify a few facts before he began.
The so-called cultivation room was unimpressive. Dust clung to every surface, there were no windows, and faded engravings lined the floor. It was more of a storage closet than a sacred space, but it would serve.
Going through a few pages, he confirmed how the blood essence should be used to clear his Acupoints. Swallow the essence, direct the energy with your will, and guide it to the chosen Acupoint. Then force it open.
It sounded like an easy thing to do, however, Marcus highly doubted this.
Blood Essence was dangerous was potent and volatile. The disparity between the user's strength and the beast the blood was drawn, played a major role. If the gap was too wide, the essence would rampage through the body… and most likely tear it apart from within.
Implosion was the most common outcome. But if one survived, the reward was worth the risk. Acupoints cleared this way would be more stable, more resilient—forming a stronger foundation for the cultivation to come.
He eyed the small black box Logan had handed him. Four vials of fish Blood Essence. The beast that came from wasn't just any aquatic creature; Marcus could feel the power radiating from the sealed glass.
The fish blood essence that Logan gave to him, Marcus figured that it wasn't handed to him to use for now, if anything, it was given to him as part of the payment for the acupoints he sold. Logan was probably expecting that he would go out to buy blood essence of beasts with lower levels.
If he knew that Marcus had no intentions of doing that, he would take the blood essence off his hands.
And if Marcus didn't have the ability to use blood to heal, he wouldn't be considering this risky move. Even while being aware of the possibility of imploding, he still wanted to give it a try.
One of the old books he picked mentioned opening Acupoints with strong Blood Essence didn't just strengthen those points—it began the process of refining the body itself. A foundation of both force and flesh.
And that was what he was gunning for. Not just cultivation, evolution.
Opening the box, Marcus sat on the ground. In the box were four vials of fish blood essence. Even though the bottles were sealed, Marcus felt a surge of desire run through his veins. This wasn't just a simple desire.
It came from his Nature and his [Blood Bane] skill.
He wanted to open the whole thing and consume them now. However, he resisted the urge with his will. Knowing that if he made the mistake of consuming just one vial of the fish blood essence, he would explode from overconsumption of power energies.
Taking a deep breath in, Marcus removed one vial from the box before closing it and keeping it by the side.
He then took out the cultivation art the Nexus gave to him and started reading to implement, unlike the previous times he had read it.
What he focused on this time, was the mantra written on the paper. Apart from the directions and locations of Major and Minor Acupoints in the body, the paper also contained a mantra that he soon realized to be the main specialty of the art.
After Logan pointed out the elementary qualities of Nexus's Cultivation Art, Marcus began to suspect its true power… it lay not in the Acupoint configurations, but in the mantra hidden within.
Clear the mind and open the heart. Feel the flow of the earth, feel the flow of nature. Let its wrath be born within you.
He had read these words a few times. They were the precursor to the mantra. As for the mantra, it was an amalgamation of sounds that formed words he couldn't understand, nor had he attempted to pronounce.
But this time, Marcus was determined to start cultivating, so he began.
"Uun," he said lightly, pronouncing the first word of the mantra.
"Tho. Vesgr—sui…"
It took him half a minute to stumble through the full recitation, fumbling in several places. He repeated it a second time, then a third, each time smoother than the previous one. The words fell into a rhythm and by the fourth recitation, something inside clicked.
He dropped the parchment and shut his eyes. This time, the mantra flowed from memory.
Clear the mind and open the heart.
As his voice whispered the ancient sounds, those words echoed in his mind. His thoughts quieted and his muscles loosened. It was as if he were drifting on warm currents of invisible water, suspended between sleep and wakefulness.
He sank deeper, and deeper still.
Until something inside opened.
A pressure in his chest dissolved, and a warmth rushed through him, washing over his emotions and blanketing every nerve in something both alien and achingly familiar.
Feel the flow of the earth, and feel the flow of nature.
Suddenly, his inner vision bloomed.
He saw a globe—his heart—transforming into a living world. It turned slowly along an unseen axis, orbiting a golden sun. Each rotation brought seasons: spring rains, winter snow, summer heat. From that rain, oceans were born. From the earth, life sprouted.
A single seed took root.
Then it grew.
A sprout. Then a sapling. Then a towering tree bore a thousand seeds. Each fell, sprouted, and grew in kind. Soon, the entire globe pulsed green with life, lush with forests and crawling with unseen vitality.
And still, it rotated.
With every quake of the globe's surface, fissures cracked through the earth. But the destruction only fertilized the soil, giving rise to colossal mountain ranges—each one vaster and mightier than the last.
This was the nature's rhythm: destruction as nourishment, growth as aftermath.
And it was beautiful.
It felt magical—and even looked even more so.
Then came the final words:
Let its wrath be born within you.
As the phrase echoed through his consciousness, the once-verdant globe within his vision trembled. Hundreds—no, thousands of—mountains erupted in unison, spewing molten fury. Rivers of lava surged forth, devouring forests. Oceans boiled into vapor.
The ground itself split open under the pressure of nature's unchecked rage.
The flames were unstoppable, wild and celestial—an apocalypse made beautiful.
And that wrath began to take root within him.
Marcus felt it slip into his chest like a blade and then it began melting, spreading through his veins, latching onto something deep—something already burning.
Anger.
It began to stir, merging with the fury around him. Old emotions surged forward like predators. Memories flooded his mind.
The courtroom.
The sentence.
The gavel falling like a guillotine.
The look on the faces of the officials in the courtroom.
Destroy the world. Destroy everything and everyone that earns your wrath.
Then came images from his time in the military—injustices stacked like corpses. Betrayals, lies, broken promises. His fury soared.
And finally, scenes from his childhood—the ones he had locked away. The ones buried so deep he thought they had died.
But they hadn't.
Each memory was a torch thrown into a powder keg. His fury reached a terrifying crescendo, and somewhere deep within, his [Berserker] attribute responded—it thrived.
It began to grow, silently and hungrily without permission.
Then amid the storm, a familiar sensation brushed the edge of his mind.
A feeling that wasn't too different from what he had felt when studying Runes.
Wait… are the words from the mantra some variation of Alphonic Primes?
The thought cracked through his haze, but there was no time to dwell on it. The moment had come.
He reached for the vial of Blood Essence.