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  Chapter 28: Threshold

  Ray sat in the corner of their shelter, his back resting against the uneven wall. His breath came in slow, steady cycles, but his body was anything but calm. Sweat clung to his skin, his muscles ached from weeks of relentless hunting, and a dull hunger gnawed at his stomach. But all of that faded into the background as he focused inward, on the elusive force he had been chasing for months.

  The soul essence was there, flowing through him like an unseen current. It was faint, fragile—something he could sense but not yet grasp. It swirled beneath his skin, slipping between his fingers every time he tried to seize control of it.

  It was infuriating.

  He had killed over a hundred dormant beasts. Absorbed their soul fragments. Strengthened his body until he could fight creatures that should have torn him apart. Yet, he was still stuck at the threshold, unable to push through.

  He exhaled sharply, tightening his fists.

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  "Why? What’s missing?"

  The rhythmic scraping of metal against stone filled the silence. Alkan sat nearby, his blind eyes fixed on the blade he was sharpening. His movements were slow, methodical, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of the weapon through touch alone.

  "How much longer?" he asked without looking up.

  Ray opened his eyes, rubbing his temples. "I don’t know," he admitted. "I feel like I’m right there. I can sense it now, the soul essence inside me… but I can’t make it move. It just sits there."

  Alkan continued sharpening his blade, the sound steady and patient. "Then we keep going," he said simply. "You’re close. But close isn’t enough."

  Ray gritted his teeth. He knows that better than anyone.

  Alkan had been trying to reawaken for weeks now, attempting to do what no one before him had succeeded in. Unlike Ray, he wasn’t gathering more soul essence—he was condensing it, forcing it into a denser, more potent form.

  He had described it once, in a rare moment of honesty.

  "It’s like drowning in dry air. My soul resists it, like it knows I’m doing something unnatural. The pressure builds and builds, and if I push too hard, I’ll burst. I can feel it."

  That was the fate of those who had tried before. They had all failed. They had all died.

  And yet, Alkan still pushed forward.

  Ray didn’t know whether to call it determination or insanity. Maybe both.

  Alkan set the blade down, stretching his fingers. "I can tell it’s possible," he said finally. "It’s like forcing a crack in solid stone. You can’t just slam your fist into it—you have to apply pressure the right way. Bit by bit."

  Ray exhaled, nodding. "Then we don’t stop. We keep moving. Keep fighting. If this place wants to break us, we break it first."

  Alkan grinned. "That’s the spirit."

  Ray pushed himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. He grabbed his sword and secured his makeshift pack, already preparing for the next hunt.

  There was only one thing left to do—kill, absorb, survive.

  Until his body finally crossed the threshold.

  Until he became something more.

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