The Flames of Transcendence

The ceremonial hall of the Aetheris estate thrummed with ancient energy. The Ceremonial Circle of Beasts, engraved into the obsidian floor, began to glow as the ritual began, its etched runes pulsing with life.

Around the perimeter, mana-infused crystals flared, casting shifting shadows across the walls and illuminating the intricate rune patterns snaking toward the center where Valen lay, a mere child about to undergo a trial unlike any before him.

The air was thick with the metallic scent of ancient beast blood, bubbling in the grooves of the circle. It surged toward him, pooling around his body.

The blood, harvested from creatures long extinct, was said to hold the power of the wild, primal chaos from which the world itself had been born. Yet none before Valen had ever withstood its full power—none had ever dared.

Lord Marcellus and Lady Isolde stood at the forefront, watching as the ceremony unfolded. Lord Marcellus, with his silver-white hair gleaming, maintained his stoic composure, though the weight of the event was clear in his piercing blue eyes.

Beside him, Isolde's amethyst eyes glowed faintly in the mana-charged air. The confidence in her son was evident, yet even she knew this ritual was not without risk.

"He is ready," an elder intoned, his voice filled with gravitas. Though, beneath his tone lay an unease none dared voice aloud. The blood had begun to react. It twisted and writhed, its crimson glow growing brighter as it fed into the mana crystals surrounding Valen.

This was no ordinary mana core formation—it was a process that had broken even the strongest of past family members. And for a mere infant, barely a month old, the pain would be unimaginable.

The ancient beast blood surged toward Valen, and the mana circle ignited. In a flash, the blood and mana collided within him, sending waves of searing heat through his veins.

The pain struck him instantly, a raw, primal agony unlike anything his young body had ever endured. It felt like his very essence was being torn apart, unraveled by the chaos of the ancient blood now fusing with his core.

Valen's body convulsed, though his mind remained eerily calm. There was something deep within him—an echo of the past, a lifetime lived before this one, where pain had become a constant companion.

His muscles, his bones, his entire being had been pushed to their limits before. In his previous life, Valen had endured the bitter reality of surviving as a killer in a world that had betrayed him. Now, that experience clung to him like an anchor in the storm.

His small fists tightened, the nails digging into his palms as the pain flooded through him. He had been through worse—his mind pushed through the haze of agony, refusing to give in.

The elders stood around him, watching in silence as the mana circle flared brighter. "He absorbs it faster than anyone has," one of them muttered, eyes wide with disbelief. "The blood—it's reacting to him."

A strange hum filled the room as the air grew dense, vibrating with mana. Valen's small body was wracked with more pain than any child could endure, yet the ancient blood didn't slow.

It continued to pour into him, seeping through his veins, igniting his still-forming mana core.

But the elders could see it now—something was different.

"It's impossible," whispered another elder, stepping back as the air grew colder, the mana around them swelling to greater levels. "No one... not even the founding ancestor... could handle this much."

The mana pulsed through the room in waves. The mana crystals on the walls flickered violently as the power within them fed into Valen, amplifying the ritual.

What should have been a slow, steady process was now accelerating, the power too much for even the elders to comprehend.

Marcellus narrowed his eyes, watching as the mana circle began to shift, the runes glowing brighter than they ever had before. The ground beneath them trembled, a dull rumble shaking the hall.

This was no ordinary ritual. Valen's body was pulling more and more of the ancient blood into itself—fusing with it, not rejecting a single drop.

His mana core was forming... but not like any other.

Deep within Valen's chest, his mana core began to take shape. At first, it was small, weak, barely able to handle the influx of power surging through him.

But as more of the ancient blood merged with it, the core began to mutate. It expanded, twisting and coiling within him, not as a simple sphere like most cores, but something far more intricate.

The blood fused with his core, intertwining with his mana, shaping it into something new. Spirals of energy began to form, layers upon layers of power, each more complex than the last. His core was evolving, transforming into something unheard of—a Primordial Core.

The elders looked on in shock as the phenomena around them grew more intense. The walls of the chamber began to tremble, cracks forming in the stone as the air itself seemed to bend under the force of the power being unleashed.

The mana crystals on the walls flickered violently, unable to contain the energy flooding the room.

Suddenly, a blinding light erupted from the center of the circle, surrounding Valen in a column of pure, radiant energy.

The light swirled, a mixture of crimson and azure, spiraling upward like a vortex, reaching toward the vaulted ceiling.

The air crackled with energy. Outside the estate, the sky darkened, clouds swirling overhead as if responding to the immense force being generated within the chamber.

A rumble of distant thunder echoed across the horizon. Nature itself was reacting to the creation of Valen's core.

The elders gasped, stepping back from the column of light.

"It can't be..." one elder murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "The Primordial Core... it's forming."

For centuries, the Primordial Core had been a myth, a legend whispered in the oldest records of the Aetheris family.

It was said that only the one who could withstand the full power of the ancient beast's blood could achieve such a feat. But it had never been done—no one had ever absorbed the blood entirely.

Until now.

Valen's body felt like it was being ripped apart, the ancient blood burning through him with an intensity that should have destroyed him. His muscles screamed, his bones felt as though they were shattering and reforming all at once.

But through the pain, he could feel it—the power building within him, solidifying into something far beyond what anyone else could ever achieve.

His core pulsed. It wasn't just a source of mana—it was a force of nature, primal and uncontrollable, yet bound by his will.

The spiraling structure of his Primordial Core was complete, layers upon layers of energy fused perfectly together, creating a reservoir of power that no one in history had ever possessed.

The pain was beyond anything Valen could imagine, but his mind clung to the core of who he was—a killer, forged in the fires of betrayal and loss in his past life. Pain was temporary. Power was forever.

His vision blurred, but he could feel it—Something, flickering at the edge of his consciousness, subtly making its presence known.

He could sense it now, a part of him, buried beneath the agony, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. But for now, his focus was on the core that had just been born inside him.

As the column of light began to fade, the chamber slowly returned to its dimly lit state. The mana crystals, now drained of their energy, flickered weakly, and the blood in the grooves of the circle cooled, hardening into black stone.

Valen lay at the center of it all, his body still, yet alive—pulsing with the power of the Primordial Core.