Boom.
An explosion resounded, and John's body was thrown into the air like a kite with its strings cut. A serene smile still hung on his lips as he spun in the air, before landing firmly on the surface of the water. He had barely touched the liquid when he was already shooting in a voracious counterattack, running towards the Ôni .
Clang . Clang . Clang .
The swords clashed in a rhythmic frenzy, and beneath their feet, the water churned in small, chaotic waves, as if reflecting the fury of the duel. Each blow reverberated through the air like liquid thunder.
—Magic Art of the North Star: Ice Crystal Rain — intoned the Ôni , in a shortened version of the traditional incantation.
In the sky above them, jagged blades of ice took shape with menacing swiftness. All it took was a fluid gesture of the Oni 's hands , and the crystals came crashing down like a murderous storm.
—Polar Star Magic Art: Ice Prison — John replied, his voice firm, pronouncing the words in the ancient language of the Baboans .
Around his body, a dome of translucent ice rose like a protective cocoon. Crystals struck the barrier's surface, shattering into a thousand glittering shards. Inside, untouched, John waited. As soon as the storm subsided, he moved with determination.
—Sea Splitting Sword , second form: Sea Splitting Sword! — he shouted .
A beam of blue energy rose up like a heavenly slash, three meters high, vibrating with a suffocating pressure. The magical blade advanced swiftly, cutting through the air towards the Oni . The Oni, however, only curled his lips into a disdainful smile.
—Sea- Dividing Sword , third form: Tornado! — replied the Ôni , in a roar that made the very air tremble.
His body spun in a frantic whirlwind. Around him, the world seemed to bend as a vortex formed, the tornado rising to four meters high, like a spinning pillar with him at its center.
Boom.
John's blue blade clashed against the tornado—sword against sword, form against form. For a brief moment, the hurricane hesitated, absorbing the energy like a devouring abyss… and then it surged forward.
" Shit …" John thought, his eyes widening as he saw the spiral of destruction coming straight towards him.
In a flash of reflex, he cast two defensive spells, his heart pounding like a war drum.
—Polar Star Magic Art: Ice Prison ...
—Polar Star Magic Art: Ice Wall ...
The tornado crashed into the first barrier, and the sound was like an avalanche smashing glass.
Shatter.
The ice prison shattered brutally, as if a celestial hammer had collided with a crystal structure. Then the ice wall—John's last defense—was also reduced to gleaming shards. There was nothing left to stop the technique's fury.
The tornado swallowed John completely.
Launched like a stone thrown furiously onto the surface of a lake, his body ricocheted over the water in a dry impact, cracking from one point to another without control , until he disappeared in the distance. The tornado finally dissipated, revealing the serene figure of the Oni ... who was now in the form of John.
— Cough ... cough ... cough ... — John coughed , staggering.
He stood up slowly, with water running from his mouth and hair, his entire body marked by the clashes. The crimson sword in his hand dissolved into the air like red dust. With his steps still trembling, he approached the Ôni and asked, bluntly:
—When will I be able to use the third form of the Sea-Splitting Sword?
The Ôni was silent for a moment, as if calculating something precisely.
—The third form consumes an absurd amount of elemental power... and also requires refined control. Fortunately, you have a Paragon core .
He looked up, serious:
—You will be able to use it once you reach at least the sixth level of the Primary Realm.
John let out a long sigh, his eyes fixed on nothing.
— How long have I been here?
The Ôni replied without hesitation:
— Two weeks and two days.
— Already?! — John exclaimed , surprised.
In the Sea of Soul, the sun never moved. It was always at its zenith—eternal noon—a cycle without variation. Time there was deceptive, which made it difficult for those who trained on that plane to have any idea of days or weeks.
In fourteen days of intense battles, John had learned a lot. Despite losing every fight, he never allowed discouragement to overcome him. The reason was simple: the Oni had told him that in a battle between two cultivators at the same level, it was impossible for him—the Oni —to be defeated.
And John knew that they were both, technically, on the same level.
John's eyes were opened in the physical world.
[ Pill , pill , pill ...]
The crimson hummingbird flew in excited circles around John's head, chirping with pure joy—celebrating its master's awakening. John smiled slightly and reached out, gently stroking the bird's vibrant feathers, which seemed even softer and more lush than before.
But the moment didn't last long.
— How disgusting... — he grumbled , frowning as he was hit by his own scent.
His entire body exuded an unbearable stench. Two weeks in the Soul Sea was roughly equivalent to eight days in the real world… and during that entire time, he had completely ignored any notion of hygiene.
As he left the catacombs, John took a deep breath of the outside air and soon spotted Iza in the distance, waiting for him with her arms crossed. A smile broke out on his face, and he ran to her, opening his arms in an affectionate gesture.
— Iza, it's good to see you...
But before he could wrap her in a hug, she backed away abruptly—like a kitten that had just seen a puddle of dirty water.
John's smile froze in the air.
— What happened...? — he asked , visibly discouraged.
Iza covered her nose with both hands, her face contorted into a grimace.
For a werewolf, the sense of smell was extremely sensitive—sharper than any irontail, and unforgiving of any strong scent.
"John, you... look like you crawled out of a garbage can," she said, waving a hand in front of her as if to dispel a toxic cloud.
John let out a bitter, resigned laugh.
— Iza, what happened in the castle this week?
She stepped back a little before answering:
— Nothing special.
— And my mother? The young princess?
— Your mother has already returned. The young princess too.
John approached Iza with a mischievous smile on the corner of his lips. His hand slid delicately through her hair, messing it up lightly as if he were touching a secret.
— I'm going to get ready. Then I'll come pick you up for something.
Iza's mind wavered for a moment, and a wave of heat rose to her cheeks, tinting them red. She didn't dare look at John, and silently imagined... things . But then he added, innocently:
— Ah! Tell your mother and your aunt. I'll take you all .
Without further explanation, John turned and left, leaving behind a stunned Iza, her expression somewhere between confused and suspicious.
Walking through the castle corridors, John went straight to his room. The bathwater fell like a warm veil over his skin, washing away the remains of the long spiritual battle. After dressing in clean clothes—a dark blue tunic with silver details and refined leather boots—he walked down with firm steps to the living room. There, a maid bowed slightly and said in a low voice:
— Your family is waiting on the porch, young master.
John nodded and walked to the main balcony.
The gentle breeze carried the scent of the flower gardens. The sky was clear, and the flags on the towers danced to the sound of warm winds. Ferdinand, Catherine, and the young Princess Victoria were there, enveloped in a peaceful atmosphere.
— Greetings, father, mother... young princess — John greeted with a polite bow.
The three of them returned the greeting with warm smiles. Catarina approached and wrapped him in a tight hug, running her fingers through his hair tenderly.
— Mom... — John murmured , blushing slightly as he let go of the affectionate gesture.
— What's wrong? Are you too old to refuse hugs from your mommy? — Catarina said , feigning indignation as she gave her son a light pinch on the cheek.
Victoria watched everything with a delighted smile, her eyes shining with silent amusement.
Fernando approached and placed his hand on his son's shoulder firmly but affectionately.
— Very good. It seems you made good use of your isolation time.
Catarina and Vitória concentrated for a moment, their auras touching John's to gauge his level.
—Primary Being, peak level 1... very good—Catarina commented approvingly.
"And the core is balanced," Victoria added with a puzzled look. "That means you've advanced both as a mage and as a warrior."
John frowned in confusion. He looked at his father.
—But ... Dad , why haven't I leveled up yet? I've already mastered the basics as a mage and warrior. Shouldn't I have become a Primary Being level 2 ?
Fernando smiled and gestured with his hand for them to sit down.
— Come. I 'll explain.
"Don't worry," Fernando said calmly. "Now that you've reached the peak of Primary Being Level 1, you can go up at any time. But you still need to fulfill the third requirement."
"What requirements are missing?" John asked , his brow slightly furrowed.
Fernando crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the horizon before turning his eyes to his son.
— For a Primary Being to level up, there are three basic but equally important requirements.
He raised a finger.
— First, train the body or mind. This is done through constant practice of magic or martial arts, especially in actual combat.
He raised his second finger.
—Second, gather enough spiritual energy within the core to support ascension.
And finally, he raised the third one.
— Third: theoretical elemental knowledge. In your case, the elements water and earth.
Fernando paused briefly, watching John carefully. When he saw that he was absorbing every word, he continued.
— When these three points align, evolution happens naturally. However, you need to understand one thing... Among the three, in the first three levels, theoretical knowledge is the most important. It is possible to level up even if the first two requirements are not fully completed.
John stared at him silently, attentively.
"But," Fernando continued, his tone now more serious, "if you do not train your arts to strengthen your body and mind, and do not gather enough spiritual energy, your foundation will be unstable. And later on, when you try to climb the realm, you will encounter a severe bottleneck."
He turned to the side, his eyes fixed on something in the distance, as if remembering an old mistake.
— Therefore, it is essential to follow this sequence: physical and mental training, accumulation of spiritual energy and, finally, mastery of knowledge. This is the basis for solid evolution.
A slight smile appeared on her lips as she looked back at John.
— That's exactly why the Institute is so important. There, you'll receive the proper training to strengthen your foundation and level up steadily. The missions will be dangerous, yes... but they'll forge you through battle.
Fernando concluded his speech with a vibrant conviction in his voice, as if he were speaking not only to his son, but to the man John was about to become.
"Father, I understand," John replied with a firm nod. His eyes now burned with a suppressed flame.
He turned, looking expectantly at Victoria.
— Young princess... are the components for Iza's evolution ready?
Victoria nodded softly, her long hair blowing in the breeze from the balcony. Her smile was serene, almost ethereal.
John's eyes lit up. A wide smile appeared on his lips, and for a brief moment, he felt a sincere urge to hug her... but he stopped himself, pushing the impulse away with a slight clearing of his throat.
"When can we perform the ritual?" John asked , his voice thick with anticipation.
Fernando smiled calmly, noticing the sparkle in his son's eyes.
— Tell your friend and her family. We will perform the ritual in two hours.
—Okay! — John replied enthusiastically, already turning to leave.
— Then I'm going... I'm going to prepare Iza for the ritual.
Leaving these words hanging in the air, John walked away with hurried steps. Fernando shook his head with a light sigh, and Catarina gave a silent smile.
John walked down the hallway toward the servants' quarters of Venhorst Castle . This was not a strange area to him. He had been here countless times, either with Alex or with Iza. The paths were familiar, and the faces were equally welcoming.
— Greetings, Aunt Francisca. Greetings, Sister Judith — he greeted as soon as he saw the two women.
Francisca, Iza's mother, and Judith, her aunt, looked up and greeted him with a slight nod.
—Greetings, young lord—they said in unison, bowing discreetly.
John smiled gently, his tone of voice calm.
— Aunt Francisca, you don't need to bow when it's just us.
His eyes swept the surroundings, but Iza was nowhere in sight.
— Auntie, where is Iza?
Francisca exchanged a brief look with Judith before saying:
— Judith , go get Izabela .
Judith nodded and withdrew, leaving John and Francisca alone under the clear sky of the outdoor area. They were at the back of the castle, where the gardens stretched out in modest simplicity.
Francisca crossed her arms, looking at the young man in front of her.
— Young lord, Izabela told us that you would come to get us for something. What is it about?
John smiled, but did not answer immediately. Instead, he took a folded parchment from inside his robe. Carefully, he handed it to Francisca.
She held it up, unfolding it slowly. Her eyes scanned the lines of writing in Babonian—an ancient script she recognized but didn't fully understand. It was the same scroll Felicia had given John: the Path of the Druid.
Francisca looked up, clearly confused.
— What does that mean, young man?
— I'm taking Iza to go through the evolution ritual on the Druid Path.
At these words, a deep, silent joy blossomed in Francisca's heart. For a moment, her eyes sparkled. However, as she reread the parchment more carefully, her expression changed. The list of pure ingredients described there was extensive—and expensive. Her initial euphoria gave way to a hard, silent apprehension.
It was at that moment that Judith returned, bringing Iza with her.
The girl was impeccably groomed. She was dressed in neat leather children's clothing, with small boots and a white blouse adorned with a blue line that outlined the seams. Her blue eyes sparkled when she saw John. Her hair, a soft silvery blue, was loose, falling down her back with an almost ethereal childlike beauty.
— John, you came — Iza said shyly.
John just nodded in approval, a small smile on his lips.
"Young lord, we cannot accept this," Francisca declared firmly. "The components are very expensive, and we are already in debt to your family."
"Auntie, please reconsider," John said, his voice soft and urgent.
— Mom, you don't...
— Izabela , you don't understand — Francisca interrupted, without raising her voice.
— Aunt, Iza is very important to me. I've promised this before. To you... and to her too.
Hearing these words, Iza smiled. Her eyes shone with genuine joy. But Francisca's expression remained serious. She stared at him for a long moment before asking frankly:
— What does my daughter mean to you?
— Iza is like a sister to me. I will do everything in my power to ensure the best for her — John replied, with unwavering sincerity.
The joy on Iza's face disappeared in an instant. Her expression twisted into silent indignation, as if she expected another answer.
Francisca, in turn, sighed deeply and gave in.
— Okay. In that case, I'll accept.
Venhorst Castle , a sacred atmosphere hung over everyone present. The torches embedded in the walls cast flickering shadows over the serious faces watching the ritual about to begin.
There were Francisca, Judith, Catarina, Iza and John. All with their eyes on Fernando, who was accurately drawing the magic circle of evolution.
In his hand he held a mulatto stone, shining in the light of the flames. With it he traced the outline of the outer circle, representing the world. Then he outlined the inner circle, symbol of the individual. The lines joined together, representing the connection between the human being and the nature of the world.
Fernando, concentrating, drew an overlapping diagram. Then, carefully, he formed the optacoguinal hexagram . In the intertwined lines of the diagram, he established the symbolic links with the essence of the animals.
Soon after, the components began to be arranged.
For John's evolution, Albert had used two hundred and fifty magical components. Fernando, however, prepared three hundred to build the Druid's magic circle.
As he added the last component, a bright glow spread across the diagram on the floor, illuminating the catacombs with a dim but vibrant light.
"You can come now," Fernando said, his voice calm but full of meaning.
Iza looked at her mother and aunt. Then she turned to John for confirmation. Everyone nodded, and she walked with small but determined steps to the center of the magic circle.
—Sit in the lotus position—Fernando instructed.
Iza obeyed without hesitation.
Fernando then took a high-quality silver core and, with precision, introduced it into the dantian region , just below the girl's navel.
Without any resistance, the core penetrated his energy center. In the next instant, a magical current ran through his body like a silent lightning bolt. The newly inserted core began to suck up the spiritual energy from the surroundings with an almost natural voracity—like a desert absorbing the first drops of rain.
Energy channels slowly formed in her body. A dull pain ran through every fiber of her being. Small drops of a dark, sticky liquid began to seep out of her pores, covering her body like a living film. In an instant, it solidified, forming a thick cocoon around her, similar to that of a butterfly.
The spiritual energy concentrated there grew in intensity. From within the cocoon, bestial sounds echoed. Various animalistic roars and cries mixed together, as if the echoes of the animal kingdom itself were manifesting in unison.
The Druid Path—or, as John preferred to call it, the Druid Class—was an ancient link to the essence of the animal world. It was a rare bloodline that blended combat skills with the varied gifts of the creatures of nature.
An hour passed.
Two.
Three.
After four long hours, a dry sound reverberated through the walls of the catacombs— crack .
The cocoon shattered like broken glass, fragmenting into a thousand pieces. From among them emerged Iza, with a clean body, serene eyes and a new aura.
— Congratulations. The ritual was successful — declared Fernando.
Francisca and Judith could not hold back their tears. It was a defining moment, not only for their daughter's future, but for the history of their race—the werewolves.
— Congratulations — repeated John, Francisca, Judith and Catarina, with voices choked with emotion.
Suddenly, Iza put her hand to her head with an expression of pain.
Just as Albert had done with John, Fernando stepped in. He patiently explained the basic principles of sonar, helping her stabilize her new perception .
Everyone left the catacombs. Iza followed with her mother and aunt. John left alongside Fernando and Catarina.
Time was running out. The moment for John, Alex, Iza, Beatriz and Bárbara Bo to join the Evolution Institute was getting closer and closer.
Continued...
Author's dark commentary
They evolve... but at what cost?
Each magical component is a silent debt to destiny. Each planted nucleus is a seed that germinates power... or ruin. Iza succeeded. But will everyone succeed? And the Institute of Evolution... will it really be a sanctuary of progress or a furnace of sacrifices?
The Druid's Path is just the beginning.
If you felt your heart racing in the middle of the ritual, then just imagine what's to come. Comment what you thought of Iza's rebirth, vote strongly if you want more chapters with blood, sweat and soul. And, of course, I am immensely grateful to those who donate to keep this madness called history alive. Your opinions shape this universe.
See you in the next chapter... if you survive until then.