The sky lies dark and clear, with faint stars glimmering through drifting clouds. The air is cool and slightly damp, carrying the scent of fresh earth and budding leaves. A soft chill lingers, and the silence feels deep, broken only by the occasional whisper of wind.
Lancelot slipped into his room through the window. He surveyed the surroundings and confirmed that no one else was present, aside from his clone concealed within the room.
Bam!
Lancelot dropped from the window, landing on the smooth, silver-colored floor.
Lancelot, who was 1.68m tall, stood in his bedroom. He had a calm and confident look, but there was a faint trace of tiredness hidden beneath it. His golden hair was slightly messy, as if he had run his fingers through it many times.
His face was youthful and smooth, with a sharp but gentle structure. His jawline was clean and well-shaped, giving him a noble and refined appearance. His golden eyes were bright and steady, carrying both confidence and quiet intensity. Even though he looked calm, there was a subtle seriousness in his gaze, as if his mind was still on what had just happened. A faint, controlled smile rested on his lips, showing composure rather than joy.
He wore fine clothes: a red suit with gold designs, a white shirt, and neat black trousers. His shoes are polished, and he looks clean and well cared for except from his scattered hair. His eyes werw focused under the bed
The room is large and rich. Behind him is a big bed with soft pillows and long curtains hanging around it. The curtains are sliver white with gold details. Above, a bright chandelier hangs from the ceiling, giving warm light.
To the side, there is a wooden table with books, a globe, and a blue orb that brittens the room. The walls are smooth and pale they are like sliver bronze, and there is a painting hanging on one side. The floor is covered with a large patterned carpet.
Moonlight comes in through a tall window, making the room feel quiet. The whole place shows wealth, comfort, and high status.
Lancelot's left hand reached for his right shoulder, removing his suit. He said, calm and composed, "You can come out now."
Now clad only in a white shirt and black trousers, he used both hands to unbutton his shirt as he watched a figure appear near the door equal in height to him and fully armored.
Lancelot's gaze shifted from under the bed to the armored knight. In a calm, serious tone, he asked, "Where is the corpse?"
The knight remained silent. Without answering, he moved to the side of the bed, bent down, and stretched out a hand. His fingers found another hand concealed beneath the bed. Firmly, the amor knight grasped it and dragged the corpse free.
The corpse was already cold, it's body had been torn from the chest to the base of the ribs, leaving only the upper portion and one hand intact. The corpse's face was pale, frozen in the expression of one caught in sudden shock. Both eyes remained open, her mouth slightly agape. Short black hair framed dark skin, still carrying the faint remnants of life's warmth. She was none other than the deceased Yoma.
After removing Yoma's corpse from under the bed, the armored knight stretched out his hand once more. This time, he grasped another hand. As he pulled it free, the corpse's lower half was nowhere to be found, while the upper half bore deep cuts, scratches, and jagged claw marks.
Lancelot, observing the scene, let out a sigh of relief.
"I haven't looted this alien yet… what was his name? Did he even say it back in the mountains?"
After a brief pause, he hissed to himself, "Nah… the only time I heard his name was from a transmission from a clone back in that village. Besides, who cares about names? Whether it was Mau, Mad, or Mo… what really matters is the harvest I reaped today."
A sly smile curved his lips. "Hehe… Rank 3 Illusion Feral Soul. Even if I gain nothing else of value from this fellow, I'll still be satisfied. Hehe… haha."
The armored knight looked at Lancelot, his expression puzzled as he dragged the corpses and walked towards Lancelot.
Lancelot turned his head to face the armored knight. "How long have you been here? Did anyone come looking for me?"
The knight shook its head. "No one has come looking for you. The door is locked. I arrived with the ring you gave me. When I got here, I lost connection with the main body, but I am well aware that my duty is to guard this body until our main body returns."
Lancelot sank into thought. Why did I lose connection with my clone? No wonder when I first arrived, I couldn't sense or locate him…
This must be one of the side effects of overusing the Spirit Core.
What should I do now...kill him, or wait until my clone's Spirit Essence starts regenerating? Lancelot muttered to himself.
Lancelot glanced at his wrist. A time teller appeared, its faint glow illuminating the room. In a hoarse voice, he said, "Put the corpse here."
The display on the time teller read: Saturday, 21st April 1218, and just below, the time blinked steadily: 02:19 AM.
Lancelot's clone landed nearby, observing as Lancelot squatted down, placing his hand between Mausa's ribs and above his navel.
Lancelot clone who was watching from the side frowned. "The main body only said i should transport the corpse here, i don't recall the main body ever saying i or you should loot the spirit sea."
Lancelot chuckled softly. "I was just inspecting the body to see if any Feral Souls remain. You don't need to worry. I cannot disobey the orders of the main body."
With that, he withdrew his hand from Mausa's corpse, stood, and took three steps before bending down again. He stretched out his right hand and placed it gently on Yoma's forehead.
Lancelot sent his consciousness into his spirit sea, now recovered to ninety percent of its snow-white spirit essence. The essence surged upward, converging at the top of his spirit sea.
After ten seconds, small light-brown motes of glowing energy began to appear across his body. Lancelot directed them, gathering all the motes into his palm and channeling them into Yoma through her forehead.
Within a minute, Yoma's face had transformed, coated in a glowing light-brown layer, her eyes, nose, and mouth radiating with the same luminous mud. Lancelot ceased the flow of spirit essence and inspected his spirit sea only fifty percent of his snow-white essence remained.
Finally, he sent his consciousness into Yoma's mind, connecting through the spirit essence he had poured into her.
Inside her consciousness, Lancelot saw two cores. The former was filled with dull rainbow essence, while the latter was shrouded in a swirling mixture of golden and black fog.
Strange… why aren't they moving or showing any signs of life? Lancelot thought. Are they… dead?
As the thought flickered in his mind, he quickly dismissed the possibility of the Spirit Cores dying.
He began analyzing. During the battle, she hadn't used any Spirit Core. Was she hiding the fact that she was a spirit cultivator? Or perhaps she simply didn't know how to use one? From the looks of it, these Spirit Cores had never been activated.
Lancelot retracted his consciousness from the deceased Yoma and returned it to his own Spirit Sea, which had recovered ten percent of its snow-white spirit essence. Now, sixty percent of his essence remained. He manipulated it carefully, sending controlled waves surging to the top of his Spirit Sea.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Blood ran from Lancelot's nose, and after five seconds, it began seeping from his ears and eyes as well.
Bam!
The top of his Spirit Sea became filled with light-brown spirit essence, hanging heavy at the peak. The snow-white essence had been overtaken, leaving only ten percent remaining at the bottom of the Spirit Sea.
Lancelot sat in a meditative state, eyes closed, legs crossed right leg on the right lap, left leg on the left. His hands rested gently on his knees, palms open.
He began multitasking, controlling his spirit essence to extract the Spirit Cores from the deceased Yoma. Slowly, methodically, he guided the cores out of her Spirit Sea. After an hour of concentrated effort, the initial stage was complete: both of Yoma's Spirit Cores had been successfully removed from her body.
Next, Lancelot used his light-brown essence to carry the cores into his own Spirit Sea. The first to pass through the essence was the core filled with rainbow essence. It flowed through the light-brown spirit essence like a stone skipping across a calm sea.
The rainbow core floated toward the left side of Lancelot's Spirit Sea, suspended in place. Round in shape, it occupied three layers within the Spirit Sea, its dull glow now contained and stabilized under Lancelot's control.