Mordek hesitated as Ronan handed over three Doomscale Lizard cores.
"Are you sure you want to give us these Doomscale Lizard cores?" he asked, eyeing the glowing orbs in Ronan's outstretched hand.
Ronan simply nodded. "You're the rightful owner of those. You should have them. But make sure to report everything to Sir Alaric." His voice was calm but firm. Then, with a purposeful stride, he split his presence: one clone followed him toward the left-side room, while a clone stayed by Kael's side.
Mordek glanced at the stones in his hand before sighing lightly and pulling out a few of his own. He handed them over to Gorvath.
"Absorb these. With some luck, you might break through to Master Tier Two," said Gorvath, his tone encouraging but grounded. Without hesitation, Gorvath nodded and began to meditate, following his teacher's instructions diligently.
Mordek turned toward the others. "I'll check the next room with Ronan. You two, watch over them. Keep everyone safe."
Outside the left-side room, Ronan and his clone stood silently. The atmosphere was tense. Mordek approached and said, "Wait, Ronan. I'll go with you."
Ronan gave a quiet nod of agreement and opened the door.
The room inside was cloaked in darkness. Unlike the others, it lacked any automatic lighting. Mordek reached into his robes, pulling out a luminous crystal. As he channelled mana into it, soft, bluish light spilt into the room, revealing the wreckage within.
Everything was destroyed—chairs, tables, even the iron shackles once reinforced with rune magic. Each broken piece whispered of a violent past.
Mordek narrowed his eyes and activated his perception skills, carefully scanning the room for hidden clues. A subtle hum of concealed magic caught his attention. He approached the far wall and placed his hand against it. There was something behind it.
"Ronan," Mordek called. "There's a chamber behind this wall. Hidden."
They examined the wall together, trying to uncover a way to open it. Ronan's clone pulled out a worn leather-bound book from his storage ring.
"I think I saw a book in the previous room that had something on this," the clone said, flipping through the pages quickly. He stopped at a diagram of a magic circle. "Here. There's a mana-reactive seal embedded beside the wall. But it needs a specific mana signature to unlock it."
"That's going to be a problem," the clone muttered. "Everyone's mana signature is unique. There's no way we can open this without the original caster's essence."
Ronan folded his arms, thinking. "What if we just break it down?"
The clone immediately shook his head. "Bad idea. If they went this far to seal it, they definitely rigged it with countermeasures. We might destroy whatever's inside."
Mordek leaned in, studying the blueprint etched in the book. "I have a little knowledge of magic circles... Maybe I can reverse-engineer it."
Ronan said, "Then the door's all yours, Sir."
It took time and focus. Mordek carefully traced the lines and deciphered the old runes, slowly unravelling the structure of the magic circle. After several long minutes, a soft click echoed through the room.
The hidden door opened with a hiss.
Mordek pushed the floating luminac crystal into the new chamber. The light revealed a small, suffocating room steeped in remnants of torment. As soon as they entered, a powerful psychic wave hit them.
Shards of memories—memories from the demon woman—violently surged into their minds. Echoes of screams, blood-stained rituals, and unbearable suffering.
Mordek, a seasoned demon himself, had seen much. But even he recoiled.
"How far can people fall in pursuit of power?" Mordek thought bitterly. "Even knowing cruelty, this... this is monstrous."
He turned to check on Ronan.
Ronan stood still, but his breath had grown ragged. His mana surged erratically, spiralling inside him like a storm. His eyes were unfocused, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Emotional backlash…" Mordek thought. "And not just that—his mental defences are cracking. That complex barrier I couldn't penetrate before—it's crumbling."
Just as he opened his mouth to say, "Ronan, calm down..." a calm, steady voice cut through the room.
The clone placed a hand gently on Ronan's shoulder. "This is not a place to lose control. Let anger pass. We gain nothing from rage."
Mordek froze. "Unbelievable... How can the clone be so calm when the original is breaking down?"
A realisation struck him like a bolt of lightning.
"Don't tell me... His clones are already connected to spectrums of emotion." He took a half-step back in awe. "That would explain the behavioural differences. How in the world did he achieve something like that, so early?"
Ronan slowly raised his hand and patted the one on his shoulder, a quiet but clear gesture of gratitude. His breathing began to steady, and the chaotic mana within him started to calm.
Mordek watched silently, shaken. "This boy... There's more to him than anyone knows. Once we're out of here, I need to ask him—everything."
As Ronan and Mordek steadied their breaths, attempting to stabilise their fraying minds, the cries returned. Agonised, chilling screams pierced the air—like a thousand damned souls clawing at the edge of sanity. The air thickened. Cold. Suffocating.
Their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and what they saw was something not meant to exist.
It floated.
A grotesque, glass-like corpse with no legs or feet—just a torso suspended mid-air like a marionette cut from its strings too late. The body was bent and twisted, its back arched unnaturally, like a hanged man frozen in his final agony. Its skin was translucent, like smoke trapped beneath cracking ice. And within it... were faces. Faces twisted in pain, shrieking silently, appearing and vanishing faster than thought. Grey, stringy strands dangled like seaweed, swaying in an invisible current.
Its eyes—two red embers—didn't glow. They bled light. Dull and constant. Staring. Without blinking. Without life.
Its fingers were long, grotesquely bent, ending in obsidian-like hooks that dripped with a viscous, ink-black substance. It had no mouth—only a ragged black slit where one should be. And yet, the voices didn't come from it. They came from everywhere. Whispers that brushed the nape of the neck. Choked sobs. Agonising words.
A nightmare made real.
Ronan instinctively stepped back, trembling. His voice cracked as he muttered, "Vengeful Spirit...? This will be troublesome to defeat..."
Mordek gritted his teeth, his hand tightening around the hilt of his heavy blade. He responded, cold and grim, "No. This is not just any Vengeful Spirit... This is a Hollowed Spirit."
Ronan turned sharply, eyes wide. "Hollowed Spirit?"
Mordek gave a slow, grim nod. "It has no soul. What you're seeing is the condensed remains of pure, twisted emotion—rage, grief, hatred... A manifestation of suffering itself."
A chill crawled up Ronan's spine. He swallowed hard. "Sir... Will we even be able to defeat it?"
"Yes," Mordek answered with firm clarity. "There's no soul inside. That means there's nothing to purify. We just need to destroy it. That's the only way."
Ronan nodded, steeling himself. He turned toward the door they'd entered through. His clone stood there, eyes vacant, awaiting a command.
"Close the door. Seal it. Make sure this thing doesn't leave the room," Ronan ordered, his voice shaking but resolute.
The clone obeyed.
Ronan looked back at Mordek. "Sir... I don't know anything about these spirits. I only have Fire magic. And... I know a few soul-targeting techniques. I'll follow your lead."
Mordek looked at him briefly, his expression unreadable. "Only a single-element user…" he thought, almost dismissively. But he shook the thought off. "Focus. This is not the time."
"Listen carefully, Ronan," Mordek began, his tone becoming instructive. "Hollowed Spirits are immune to physical attacks. Blades, arrows, fists—nothing works. Your sword will pass through like smoke. Only elemental magic can damage them. Even then, they have resistance to most elements... except Light. If you don't have Light, your attacks will do reduced damage."
Ronan exhaled slowly, processing everything. "Then it's a battle of endurance. My mana versus its health."
Mordek grinned grimly, lightning crackling in his palm as he drew a solid steel longsword from his back—its surface old but well-kept. Lightning mana surged from his hand, running across the metal like veins of light.
With a blur of movement, Mordek lunged and slashed at the spirit, sparks flying as the enchanted blade tore into the twisted creature.
He called out, "Ronan! Ever fought something like this?"
Ronan shook his head. "No. First time seeing it."
Mordek's eyes narrowed, teacher-mode fully engaged. "Then watch. And learn."
As Mordek fought, his voice carried on, steady despite the chaos.
"The fear they inspire—that's the real threat. People don't fear them because they're hard to kill. They're feared because they drive you mad. This is why they're so dangerous. Prolonged exposure will tear your mind apart. They'll twist your thoughts. Make you doubt. Make you feel what they feel. If you're ever outnumbered by Hollowed Spirits—run. Don't try to be a hero. Get help. Do you understand?"
Ronan clenched his fist. "Yes, sir."
The Hollowed Spirit suddenly shrieked—a sound like shattered glass grinding against bone. From its smoky body, a dark tendril extended and formed a copy. A second Hollowed Spirit emerged, identical and equally menacing.
Mordek's jaw tightened. "Damn. They're splitting."
The battle escalated. Two spirits versus Mordek. Ronan stood back, activating his perception skill, watching for patterns, weaknesses.
One of the Hollowed Spirits slipped through Mordek's blind spot, gliding behind him, claws poised to strike.
"Sir!" Ronan shouted.
He unsheathed his own sword, pouring fire mana into it until it shimmered with heat. Gathering more fire mana along its length, he unleashed Blazing Strike—a roaring arc of flame that surged toward the spirit. The burning slash collided, staggering the spirit mid-air.
Ronan moved forward. "I'll assist!"
Mordek cast a quick glance at Ronan, surprised. "That sword. His mana control is nearly perfect. That's not something most can do at his age."
"Not bad," Mordek thought. "We can't let this battle drag on."
"Then let's finish this before they multiply again," Mordek called out. "Watch my rhythm. Strike when I make an opening. Keep your emotions in check. Don't let them crawl inside your head."
Ronan nodded, setting his jaw. The fear still clawed at the edge of his mind, but he pushed it down. Stepped forward. One more step toward the abyss.