The essence entered Yoo's body the way a flood enters a valley—not with the courtesy of asking permission, but with the absolute certainty that resistance was a concept for things that had choices, and he had precisely none.
WHOOOOOM.
The sound wasn't external; it manifested somewhere between his eardrums and his consciousness, a resonance that made his newly-formed draconic instincts recognize ancient power and immediately prostrate themselves in metaphysical submission because forty-seven thousand years of accumulated predation carried authority that transcended mere strength.
For 0.3 seconds, it felt manageable.
The black tendrils of his Devour ability—extensions of whatever fundamental mechanism Akasha Archive had grafted onto his reincarnated soul—wrapped around the sphere of primordial essence and began the familiar process of breaking down foreign power into components his body could metabolize and integrate.
