As Arran’s lungs filled with blood, an instinctive panic rose within him. Yet there was nothing he could do — his body had been paralyzed by the Blood magic that tore at his life force, the violent force of it tearing any control he had from his grasp.
He could Sense the power within the blood that surrounded him and filled his lungs, and he vaguely felt that if he could only grasp it, there might be a way to solve the crisis.
But it was too late — the Blood magic was already devouring him, and he had lost the control he needed to resist it. Despite the power all around him, at this mont, he lacked the strength to reach for it.
His consciousness was on the verge of slipping, and any mont now, it could disappear entirely.
As he felt death approach, a sense of calm ca over him, and his mind suddenly grew clear.
In that brief instant of clarity, he gained so small understanding of the Blood magic that was attacking his body.
He had believed he controlled the Blood magic, but now, he knew he had rely suppressed its effects. The Blood magic wasn’t part of him; it was a parasite, using Arran to feed itself. The strength it had given wasn’t truly Arran’s — it was a ans for the Blood magic to grow stronger.
And driven wild by the power in the dead dragon’s blood, the parasite had now turned against its host.
The realization filled Arran with anger.
His body belonged to him, and him alone. The Blood magic had been forced on him, but he had refused to yield to it, forced it to accept his control. That it now tried to devour him was sothing he could not accept and would not allow.
A violent hatred rose within him. Even if he died, he would not yield to the alien force within him.
With the last shred of will his dying body held, he resisted the devouring force, cutting it off from his power. It was a fight he could not win, like an ant trying to resist an avalanche, but if he died he would die fighting.
For a fraction of a mont, he succeeded in halting the devouring force. He knew he could not last for more than a single breath’s ti, but it didn’t matter. If this was his last mont, then he would use it to battle the foe within him.
The mont Arran’s resistance blocked the devouring force from its nourishnt, it suddenly surged in strength, lashing out with a blind hunger to consu whatever it could find. And in that instant, it pulled in the nearest source of power that wasn’t blocked — the dragon’s blood within Arran’s lungs.
The Blood magic pulled a sliver of the dragon’s blood into Arran’s body, greedily devouring the power it held. Then, it pulled in more.
A deluge of power from the dragon blood surged into Arran, and the Blood magic instantly began to devour it, feasting on its overwhelming strength.
Yet for all its voraciousness, it could consu only a fraction of the power that bore down on it. There was simply too much of it to devour, and the remainder flooded through Arran’s body.
Had it been normal Natural Essence, Arran would have been unable to absorb it in his current state. But this power was anything but normal — instead of waiting for Arran to take it, it imdiately began to rge with his body, rapidly healing him and restoring his strength.
Arran was shocked at the sudden effect. He had been on the brink of death only monts earlier, but now, he recovered almost instantly. And it didn’t stop there — more power flooded into him, and as it did, it eagerly fused with his body.
There had been a hint of a Body Refinent thod within the dead dragon’s blood, but in Crassus’s blood, it was no re hint. The blood clearly contained its own shockingly powerful Body Refinent thod.
And at this mont, that thod was forcibly rging power with his body, like it had its own will.
Moreover, Arran could feel that as he absorbed the power, the Body Refinent was sohow also becoming part of him. Rather than just perceiving and understanding it, it was as if he was gaining a natural ability to refine and absorb Natural Essence.
He had been on the verge of death only monts ago, but not only had he been saved, his strength was also increasing by leaps and bounds.
Still, even as he felt himself grow stronger, he knew the crisis was far from over.
The power in Crassus’s blood had brought him back from the brink of death, but at the sa ti, the Blood magic was feeding on it, allowing it to grow stronger with every mont that passed. And once the power in the dragon’s blood ran out, Arran knew the Blood magic would once more try to consu him.
He could not allow that to happen — even with his increased strength, it would be a death sentence.
Without hesitation, he focused his will on the power that flowed through his body. While the Blood magic was absorbing strength from the dragon’s blood, that strength had to go through Arran’s body first, and there, he had so control over it.
He imdiately began to draw the power away from the Blood magic’s devouring force, resolutely cutting off the parasitic force’s sustenance. It responded at once, violently lashing out to find more power, and Arran struggled to resist.
This sudden battle continued for so ti, with Arran fighting the Blood magic over the power that entered him, neither side strong enough to quickly defeat the other.
As Arran’s body floated motionless in a pool Crassus’s blood, inside of him there was a battleground, with the parasite and the host engaged in a deadly fight for power.
At first, Arran seed to be on the losing end of this battle — the Blood magic was simply too powerful for him to block completely, and each ti it lashed out, it would devour so strands of power and grow even stronger.
Yet as more ti passed, he began to realize that while the Blood magic was strong, it lacked intelligence. Much like the juvenile dragon he had fought, it blindly chased its prey, driven by nothing but hunger.
Arran imdiately acted on this sudden understanding, and he stopped trying to resist the devouring force — that was a battle he could not win. Every ti the parasite lashed out, it would absorb power even if he resisted it. And if he moved the power away from it completely, it would once more begin to feed on Arran himself.
Instead, he began cycling the dragon’s power through his body, luring the Blood magic to chase after it. It was a simple tactic, but against a mindless enemy, it proved extrely effective.
The tide of battle changed almost instantly. Now that the Blood magic’s devouring force was fruitlessly pursuing the power that fled before it, it ceased to grow stronger. And Arran, on the other hand, was now absorbing even more of it than before, no longer having to compete over it.
Hours passed like this, with the blood that surrounded Arran continuing to strengthen him. And the stronger he grew, the more the Body Refinent thod integrated with his body, with his understanding of it growing at the sa ti.
The more he understood of it, the more its ferocious nature astonished him. He could easily control it with a thought, but just to absorb power, there was no need to — it seed to contain an innate and endless hunger that absorbed any power it found.
Or rather, he realized with so surprise, it devoured it. Much like the devouring force of the Blood magic, the dragon’s blood contained its own devouring force — except unlike the parasite, this force nourished its owner.
Deep within the pool of crimson blood, a ruthless smile appeared on Arran’s face.
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