At first, Edard struggled to comprehend what was happening. He stared in awe as a strange, honey-colored light began to coalesce around him. Before he could even process his surprise, the glow began to seep into his body, bit by bit. It felt as though the light were being guided by an invisible hand, gathering precisely where his remaining seconds of life—his longevity—were tracked.
In an instant, he had bypassed the second and third stages of the manual's instructions. Almost immediately, a box materialized:
These locations he had siphoned from were "Dungeons"—some belonged to powerful entities, while others lay abandoned. A flicker of worry crossed his mind: what would the owners do when they realized their energy had been stolen? But he quickly shoved the thought aside.
He expected the process to end there, but the honey-colored light surrounding him did not dissipate. Initially, the warmth had been pleasant, a soothing balm to his weary body. But as the volume of light increased, the sensation shifted. Too much of a good thing inevitably turns toxic. Before he could react, the light began to pulse violently, striking his heart and lungs with the rhythmic force of a heavy sledgehammer.
Edard's breath became ragged and shallow. His eyes turned a deep, demonic crimson, and his hair stood on end as if charged with static electricity. He realized he needed to stop the skill before something irreversible happened, but he had no idea how. This was his first time using it, and the manual provided no "off" switch.
As if his internal agony weren't enough, his skin began to itch—a searing, spicy irritation that made him want to claw at his own flesh with a knife. At first, he tried to endure it, gritting his teeth and remaining still.
However, the situation soon spiraled out of control. Every spot he scratched turned into a raw, weeping sore, as if he were being flayed. These areas began to swell and throb. Had the itching simply stopped there, it might have been bearable, but the swelling only intensified the irritation. It was the kind of itch that overrides the brain—even knowing he was mutilating himself, he couldn't stop. Desperate, Edard grabbed a jagged, rough stone from the cave floor and began to scrape at his skin.
The nightmare intensified. The weeping sores began to harden, turning into thick, leathery scales reminiscent of a crocodile's hide. As the skin grew coarse and reptilian, the itching reached a fever pitch. Edard watched in horror as his own blood, oozing from the cracks, seemed to flash-freeze and solidify into these dark scales.
What was happening to him? Was he losing his humanity? The transformation spread until his once-human skin was almost entirely replaced by this jagged, bloody armor. The pain and the itching were a dual torment he couldn't survive. In a fit of madness, he began to drive the jagged stone into his own chest, hoping the sharp pain of a puncture would drown out the maddening itch. He stabbed himself repeatedly, not caring if he hit his heart or lungs. Finally, his vision blurred, likely from the massive blood loss. He collapsed face-down on the cold floor, his consciousness fading into a pitch-black void.
An hour later, Edard jolted awake. He frantically checked his body for the crocodile-like scales and the jagged wounds, but to his utter astonishment, they were gone. There was no blood, no swelling, no scales. By all accounts, the floor of the cave should have been painted red with his blood, but it was pristine. It was as if the entire ordeal had been a hallucination—until a new box appeared with startling information:
The screen continued to scroll.
Edard sat in stunned silence. The sheer volume of information was overwhelming. He realized the Immortal Dragon skill was far more profound and dangerous than he had imagined. To siphon two years' worth of energy in the blink of an eye was a feat he suspected most cultivators couldn't achieve.
He considered the slaves. If he released them into the wild, they would likely die or be recaptured. Returning them to their "owners" was out of the question, and killing them was unthinkable.
"If I leave them, they'll just perish eventually," he reasoned. He decided the best course of action was to claim them for now.
The moment he thought "Yes," a white-hot pain split his skull. It felt as if a physical object were being hammered into the center of his brain. When the pain receded, a glowing mark appeared on his forehead—a delicate, luminescent design resembling a flower. It glowed for a full minute before fading beneath his skin.