novelODS Chapter 20: The Further Enhancement of Power
Chapter 20: The Further Enhancement of Power
Portma looked at the chains that had suddenly appeared in alarm.
Unlike the slow, natural absorption of star charts—
These chains are violent, coercive, and have a clear intention to "bind".
They wrapped around Portma's limbs, waist, and neck, binding her tightly so that she had no room to struggle.
"What—" For the first time, genuine terror appeared in Portma's voice. "No! You—you ants—how dare you—"
Her body writhed violently in the chains, but the chains tightened more and more.
The absorption of the star chart continued, and the binding of the blood magic intensified—the two forces combined, like an impenetrable net, slowly extracting her soul power.
She is being enslaved.
By the spiritual world of an ordinary person. By a greedy star. By the quick wit of an old monk.
Portma let out a sharp scream that tore through the entire mental world.
"I will not be enslaved by you!"
Her body suddenly swelled up for a moment—not as an attack, but as self-harm.
Her soul power vibrated violently within her body, like a star about to explode. The stripped-off light threads stopped flowing for a moment, cracks appeared in the chains, and the star map's absorption paused for a split second.
She is burning her own soul.
Chen Mo sensed it. That feeling—like someone trying to break free of a fishing net, preferring to tear their own flesh rather than be caught. Potema was desperately trying to escape, even if it meant giving up—
Giving up most of the soul's power.
"Don't even think about escaping!" Chen Mo's mind acted swiftly.
He could feel the "great nourishment" that Potema's soul power was giving him—that dark blue, cold, and powerful energy was making that faint star brighter and more stable.
He couldn't let his prey escape—
He struggled to trap Botoma. The star chart shone brighter, and the absorbing filaments grew thicker and denser, trying to pin Botoma firmly in place.
Potema's body trembled violently under the dual constraints of the star chart and blood magic. Her soul power was being stripped away, her body was being compressed, and her consciousness was being eroded—
Then she retaliated.
Potema's soul suddenly collapsed inward, like a dying star collapsing into a black hole.
Her body—the enormous, dark blue wolf—shrank by half in an instant, all its power concentrated at its core. The light threads absorbed by the star map were severed in that instant, and the chains of blood magic slipped off her collapsing body—
She gave up most of her soul power.
The abandoned, pale blue energy surged into Chen Mo's consciousness like a flood bursting its banks, rushing towards that greedy star.
The star chart shone as brightly as the midday sun for a fleeting moment, and all the stars seemed to twinkle at the same instant, as if cheering or celebrating.
Meanwhile, Potema's remnant soul—a dim, weak figure that had shrunk by two-thirds—rushed out of Chen Mo's consciousness space.
Like a pebble launched by a slingshot, like a fish breaking free from a fishing net, like a prisoner imprisoned for centuries finally finding a crack in the water—
She burst out of Chen Mo's body.
A deep blue light shot out from Chen Mo's chest, drawing a dazzling arc within the tower.
The light was countless times dimmer than before, as weak as a candle flickering in the wind, but it still carried a frantic, desperate will to survive.
The beam of light hovered within the tower for a moment, seemingly searching for direction. Then it shot towards the skylight in the dome and disappeared into the night sky.
They have disappeared.
The cave fell silent.
Complete and utter silence fell.
The hum of the ceremony was gone, the clamor of battle was gone, and Potema's roar was gone. Only the sound of the wind, the dripping of water, and Benjamin's heavy breathing remained.
The old man knelt on the ground, the dagger slipping from his hand and clanging crisply on the stone slab. His face was as pale as paper, his forehead covered in sweat, the collar of his gray robe soaked through. But his eyes—those grey-blue eyes—were fixed on Chen Mo's face, unblinking.
Chen Mo's eyelashes twitched.
Then his eyes slowly opened.
shake.
This was Chen Mo's first impression.
It wasn't the world that was shaking—it was his vision that was shaking.
It felt like someone had installed a drum in his eyes, and with each heartbeat, the drumhead would vibrate, making all the light and shadow dance. He blinked hard, and his vision gradually stabilized, but his head was still buzzing, as if someone had driven a row of nails into the inside of his skull.
He lay on the ground. The cold of the stone slab seeped into his back through his light armor, making him shiver.
The towering dome of the building comes into view.
Chen Mo moved his fingers.
His body felt heavy, as if filled with lead. His head ached terribly, as if someone had set off firecrackers inside his skull all night. There was a shallow wound on the palm of his right hand; the bleeding had stopped, but the wound still throbbed faintly.
He is still alive.
He is still alive.
Benjamin's face came into view above him. The old man's face was as white as paper, his forehead was covered in sweat, and the collar of his gray robe was soaked with sweat. But his eyes—those gray-blue eyes—brightened for a moment when he saw Chen Mo open his eyes.
"You fucking idiot," Benjamin said, his voice hoarse like sandpaper, "you fucking awake."
Chen Mo's lips twitched, as if he wanted to say something, but his throat was as dry as sandpaper. He could only manage a hoarse, indistinct "hmm."
Benjamin reached out and helped him up from the ground, letting him lean against the railing. The old man's hands were trembling, but they were strong, steadily supporting his back.
"Potterma got away," Benjamin said. "You're something else, you're still alive."
Chen Mo chuckled at Benjamin's rubbish, then looked down at his hands.
There was no blood or wounds on his hands, but he could feel it—a feeling of fullness.
It wasn't the faint, riverbed-welcoming feeling of the past—it was much stronger, more substantial. Like a river that had been dry for too long, finally receiving a real downpour.
Something new had entered his body. Not a skill, not a perk, not anything he could clearly describe.
It's a kind of...foundation. A deeper, more essential accumulation. Like a tree quietly growing new roots beneath the soil; although no changes are visible on the surface, it's already different.
That star.
That faint star, always gestating something, always waiting—
It's full.
At least, I ate my fill.
"Quick! Find them! Don't let a single one escape!" At that moment, a cacophony of shouts suddenly came from the depths of the rift valley.