The chamber dimmed as the machine reached its peak. A storm of mana swirled around the glass tank, painting the walls in flickering shades of blue and crimson. Abraham's silhouette jerked within, suspended between life and torment. Sparks rained across the cold floor, forming tiny, momentary stars before dying.The master stood silently beside the control panel, his hands clasped behind his back. His son, barely twenty, stared at the readings that jumped wildly on the monitor. "Father," he said hesitantly, "his body won't hold much longer. The mana density is off the charts. He might die."The master's eyes didn't leave the containment chamber. "If he dies, then he was never worthy to begin with."The son flinched at the coldness of the words. "But you promised to teach him the internal art. Isn't this… different?"A faint smile tugged at the master's lips. "Do you really believe enlightenment comes through peace and meditation? The Murim we face today was built on blood and steel. Pain refines the soul faster than any mantra."Inside the chamber, Abraham's scream echoed, muffled by layers of reinforced glass. His body glowed faintly, veins pulsing with veins of light that looked almost alive. It was as if his very essence fought to either evolve—or break apart.The son looked away. "You sound as if you want him to suffer."The master's expression hardened. "No. I want him to change. I'm giving him the chance most men never get—to survive the fire." He turned one final dial. The machine's hum deepened, and arcs of mana webbed the ceiling. "If he endures this, he won't be human anymore… He'll be something greater."Through the tinted glass, Abraham's silhouette stopped trembling. For a moment, the chamber went still. Then, a faint glow pulsed from within—steady, unnatural, and alive.
