Some time later, Michael bid farewell to Charles and found himself alone in his room. His gaze drifted to the storage ring on his finger, and a surge of anticipation rose within him.
Blood binding, huh?
It turned out that items like storage rings required ownership to be established through blood. Using one's blood would bind the item to the user, granting access to its power.
So that's why my mana was rejected…
At the time, Michael had thought that simply possessing orange mana would be enough to access the storage ring, but he had been mistaken. But now that he knew what to do, things should go smoothly.
And with the previous owner dead, there should be no reason why he couldn't bind the ring with his own blood.
Curiosity quickly got the better of him. Michael bit his finger and drew a small amount of blood, hovering it over the ring on his right hand.
The droplet of blood hung suspended in the air before plunging onto the ring's surface. Instead of bouncing off, the ring rippled like the surface of a lake, greedily drawing in the blood.
For a few moments, Michael felt the ring tremble, a subtle shift in energy, before it returned to normal. The sensation was faint, but Michael felt a new, almost imperceptible connection between himself and the ring.
Excitement bloomed within him.
Here goes nothing… Michael muttered, drawing on his mana and sending a strand toward the ring, his anticipation palpable.
As soon as his mana made contact with the ring, his consciousness stirred. A moment later, he was transported to a small, square room, about six feet in each direction. The walls and ceiling were white, with a chest sitting in the far corner.
The chest looked ancient, its wrought iron rusted to the point that Michael wondered if it would even open.
I thought storage rings were supposed to be within a pocket dimension. Time shouldn't affect perishable items…
This meant the chest had likely been old when it was placed inside the ring.
Shaking off the thought, Michael inspected the chest. Without a body in this space, he could only look at it from the outside, unsure of how to proceed.
How do I bring it out of the ring?
Before he could contemplate further, his consciousness snapped back to his room with a jolt, accompanied by a loud thud. He looked down to see the chest sitting at his feet, just inches from his toes.
"Whoa… that's cool," he muttered.
Excitement surged within him. Without hesitation, Michael dropped to his knees and lifted the chest's rusted lid. The hinges resisted, but he managed to force it open with some effort.
His eyes widened as he peered inside.
A few wrapped pieces of yellowed parchment lay alongside ceramic pill bottles, two of which were unopened.
Curious, Michael picked up the opened bottle and poured its contents into his hand. Instead of a pill, all that came out was a fine dust.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance, tossing the dust back into the chest before inspecting the bottle for any labels or markings that might explain its contents.
When he emptied the bottle, he noticed something strange.
"What language is this?" he muttered, furrowing his brow in confusion as he gazed at the unfamiliar writing.
He'd never seen the language before, but a gut feeling told him that whatever had been in the pill bottle was valuable—especially since it had been kept in the ring of the Violet Mage he'd encountered back then.
Tossing aside the now-empty bottle, Michael turned his attention to the other two pill bottles inside the chest. He was relieved to find their labels matched, indicating that they were probably the same type of pills. Both bottles had stoppers, which meant they likely hadn't eroded like the first one.
Saying a quiet prayer, Michael removed one of the stoppers and was immediately greeted by the overpowering scent of magical herbs. His nose twitched, and a calming wave washed over him, making him feel at peace.
But just as he began to enjoy the tranquility, the doors to his inner palace slammed open, causing him to shudder. Panic gripped him as he feared his soul would spiral out of control again.
To his surprise, his soul remained where it was, safely in the inner palace. Instead, tendrils seemed to extend, greedily pulling the magical essence of the herb's scent toward his soul.
He could feel his soul strengthening, as though the mere scent of the pill was empowering it.
An overwhelming urge to take one of the pills washed over Michael, as if he were an addict with his drug right in front of him, just waiting to be consumed.
He tilted the bottle, ready to pour out a single pill. However, at the last moment, he managed to stop himself, placing the stopper back on the bottle. The moment he did, the spell-like craving seemed to break, and the urge faded.
His heart pounded in his chest as he slowly placed the bottle back into the chest. Using his mind's eye, he checked on his inner palace, half-expecting his soul to curse him for withholding the pills.
But after a few moments, the doors to his inner palace slowly shut, and the pure white version of himself remained still, seated in the lotus position.
Michael watched for a while, relief gradually washing over him. He wasn't sure why, but his soul felt like something distinct from him—an entity that was both part of him and yet completely separate.
Looks like I need to research souls as well as magic in the future… Michael thought grimly, his consciousness slowly returning to his room.
He reached into the chest and pulled out the yellowed parchment, fanning the scrolls out on the floor in front of him. Each scroll was written in the same unfamiliar language, the same one as the labels on the pill bottles.
Michael scratched his head, confusion settling in, when suddenly, he heard a knock at the door.
He cursed inwardly and quickly began gathering the parchment, being as careful as he could.
"One moment!" he called, trying to mask the panic in his voice.
After closing the chest, he suddenly realized he had no idea how to return items to his storage ring. In a panic, he placed his hand on the closed chest and closed his eyes, silently praying for it to disappear.
"I'm coming in~" came a chirpy voice from the other side of the door, followed by it opening abruptly. Shirley stood there, smiling brightly.
"Michael… What are you doing?" she asked, clearly puzzled.
Michael opened his eyes, his mind racing for an explanation. But to his surprise, the chest had disappeared. All that was left in front of him was the leftover dust from the pill bottle.
"I—uh, was just meditating…" he stammered after a moment, trying to sound casual.
Shirley raised an eyebrow in confusion, but then shook her head, dismissing it. "Well, you're due for a bath. Come, I'll wash your back for you," she said with a grin.
"I can bathe myself…" Michael replied, his defiance clear.
"Nonsense, it's my job after all." She smiled as she lifted him from the ground like he was a lost puppy.