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Ten-year-old Darren listened blankly as Aunt Irene recounted the events of the past.

He began with that stormy night filled with wind, rain, thunder, and lightning.

When he heard that Aunt Irene and Uncle Chris had been captured by the evil cultists, Darren couldn’t help but clench his small fists, and when the Lord of the Lost appeared to save them, his chubby face beamed with joy. He listened wide-eyed in surprise as his grandfather and father arrived in Nasir Town, eager to learn what happened next.

When his grandfather died because of the Rhea People, he finally clenched his podgy hands and shouted angrily, “The Rhea People are too bad! These guys are too evil!”

The rest of the story was more roughly told by Irene.

She saw that Darren was excited, his face flushed red, as if he was very happy and pleased to learn about a “heritage completely different from ordinary people.”

Irene understood something very clearly, that Darren didn’t understand the tears and blood behind those stories; he just found them interesting, amusing, and he was proud of his family’s distinctiveness.

She could understand that not every child was as mature as Chris.

Irene reached out her hand and gently stroked Darren’s hair, saying calmly,

“You are now a man of the Fischer family, from now on, you must remember to shoulder your responsibilities.”

“We are a secret clan that worships great deities, and our most important principles are caution and secrecy. The stories I have just told you, you must not even tell your mother, Margaret, do you understand?”

Darren was momentarily startled. His mother, though she rarely visited Nasir Town, always doted on him and his sister during her visits, bringing plenty of delicious treats and fun things.

Could it be that he wasn’t even supposed to tell his mother about these things?

He felt a bit downcast but still nodded and said, “Yes, I understand, Aunt Irene.”

Irene nodded. There was still much to teach Darren, and he would have many doubts on the road ahead, all of which she would have to personally answer.

She hoped that Darren could one day become a pillar of the family like Lucius and Byrne.

Although he was far from it now, with his pride, playfulness, and gluttony, he hardly had any virtues.

But Irene didn’t see that as a problem, after all, Byrne as a child was also one who shivered in fear behind his father, too scared to talk, wasn’t he?

She felt it was necessary to be “tough” on Darren next time.

As Darren left the basement, he took a deep breath, his mind excitedly pondering something.

His family was so powerful, to have the protection of a great deity!

What he learned today was so fantastic! So thrilling! Surely the Lord of the Lost must be more powerful than those True Gods! Even if He were to fight six of them, He would win!

And I, Darren Fischer, am also part of the Chosen Fischer family; I am born a Chosen one!

The thought filled him with immense excitement!

How wonderful!

—-

In the guest room of Fischer Manor.

The once young Knight Verne was now in his early thirties, with a golden beard that made him look much more mature.

The “Spawn of the Abyss” incident had cost him his father, so in recent years, Verne had joined the Cyart Royal Army and become an official officer.

He smiled and gave a slight bow to Byrne.

“Then, it is decided, Lord Byrne, please be sure to attend my wedding.”

Byrne nodded and smiled, “Of course, I’ll be there.”

In Nasir Town, it was impossible to avoid each other; the Verne knight family had long decided to pledge allegiance to the Fischer family.

Today, Verne had come to Fischer Manor to discuss his wedding. He had decided to enter into a marriage alliance with a knight clan from the gold-mining town of Chevron, but he needed to seek Byrne’s opinion first.

Without the blessing of the Fischer family, the Verne family would not dare to complete the marriage alliance on their own.

Once Verne left the manor, Byrne pulled out a maroon stone from his pocket.

In a transaction with the Alchemy Council, exchanging knowledge of the Spirit Realm, the president gave him this mysterious stone filled with mysteries.

An alchemical tool and a Mysterious rare artifact, it was a fascinating little thing.

Byrne remembered the president’s claim that it could unleash considerable power when combined with intense emotional fluctuations, even comparable to the most top-tier treasures.

He knew that the next Alchemy Council meeting was only a few months away.

“Will there be stones like this next time?”

Holding the maroon stone, Byrne stared at it intently for a long while, finally deciding to try the “Deconstructive Perspective” again.

Actually, he had tried to deconstruct it a few years ago, but the side effects of that attempt lasted for days and were dreadful.

In Byrne’s eyes, a pale blue circle appeared, and his gaze penetrated deep into the very core of the maroon stone. In an instant, it was as if his consciousness had passed through countless purples and reds into chaos, hearing the wailing of hundreds and thousands around him.

Chaos!

Madness!

Despair!

Those pale blue orbs of various sizes all screamed in agony, wailing, roaring, crying; the infinite emotions from all the shattered souls surged into Byrne’s mind.

His head throbbed, his body shook uncontrollably, and a great fear rose from the deepest part of his heart!

“Ah!”

Byrne suddenly let out a loud shriek, trembling as he flung the purplish-red stone to the side, took a deep breath, and his chest heaved rapidly.

He clutched his head tightly, the sights in his vision blurring as if the piercing wails and ghastly screams were still lingering in his ears for a long time.

Those things were souls!

Indeed, there was no mistake; what he saw last time was correct. Those pale blue orbs were fragments of souls that had been broken down and reconstructed into the fundamental substance of the purplish-red stones!

“So it’s both an alchemical tool that contains magic power and a mysterious rare artifact that encompasses Spiritual Power. Now I see, it’s because it’s mixed with fragments of souls! That’s why it contains Spiritual Power!”

With his eyes closed, Byrne’s breathing gradually stabilized, although his forehead was still covered in a fine sweat.

He swallowed hard, reaffirming how extremely dangerous the president of the Alchemy Council was!

“How many people’s souls has this crazed bastard used!”

In Byrne’s mind, a very peculiar perception suddenly emerged concerning souls.

What exactly was Spiritual Power?

Undoubtedly, it was a power embedded in the deepest part of the soul, capable of affecting everything in the real world—unbelievably mysterious, unfathomable, and elusive.

All along, the Fischer family, despite continually using and developing the Power of Consecution, had never touched upon the essence of Spiritual Power.

He looked at the candle not far away.

“Flame Manipulation” could only manipulate the flames created by oneself but couldn’t control flames that already existed. Why was that?

Byrne slowly stood up and used a match to light the candle; the flame brightened a small area instantly.

That wasn’t a flame he created by consuming Spiritual Power, so it could not be controlled.

Byrne then raised a finger, creating a small flame that mirrored the light on the candle from afar.

“The flames I create contain my own Spiritual Power…”

He suddenly had an epiphany.

It meant that what I truly control is not the flame but the Spiritual Power; the so-called flame is merely a manifestation of Spiritual Power in the physical world.

Afterward, Byrne made a bold attempt.

He manipulated the flame at his fingertip to fly towards the candle, merging gradually with the fire that originally contained no Spiritual Power at all.

Soon he felt some kind of invisible resistance, then Byrne unhesitatingly increased the supply of Spiritual Power.

Then he laughed in surprise as the flame on the candle merged with his own—all of them now under his control!

“What I control isn’t the flame, but the Spiritual Power. Now I understand! I’ve got it!”

He was pleasantly surprised by his new discovery. Theoretically, if he infused more Spiritual Power, he could even take over the Kesse family’s black flame!

Byrne quickly took out his notebook and recorded his new understanding; then another realization dawned on him.

“Right, theoretically, anything with a soul, whether human or a creature, can possess the Power of Consecution!”

He thought of the “turtle”-shaped mysterious creature kept at home.

Perhaps, it could also become a Blood Receiver—there’s certainly a theoretical basis for it!

Byrne also realized something else—the system of the Power of Consecution had only been developed a little so far, and the understanding of the Fischer family was still too superficial, relying solely on the fragment of mysterious knowledge given by the Lord of the Lost over the years.

Unlike the established systems of “power of Bloodline” and “Power of Spells” on the Ouden Continent, they had been studied for countless years, with various theories, extension techniques, and volumes of books on mystical knowledge written by predecessors, summarizing innumerable heritages.

The system of the Power of Consecution needed to be completely developed from nothing by the Fischer family.

As Byrne was continuously jotting down new notes, Vanessa suddenly knocked and entered the room, bowing elegantly.

“Head of the house, Baron Leander has arrived,” she said.

“Hmm?”

Byrne was somewhat puzzled as the relationship between the Fischer family and the Leander family had not been good since he last rejected the other’s greedy request.

So, why was the merchant-like Baron Leander looking for him now?

“Invite him to the drawing room.”

Byrne nodded, put away his notebook, and decided to understand the other party’s intentions before making a decision.

Vanessa nodded, turned, and left; after a while, Baron Leander arrived in the drawing room.

“Heh, it’s been a long time, Byrne!”

His eyes were arrogant, his demeanor condescended; his plump hands shook slightly, almost nervously, as he kept laughing.

Byrne couldn’t help but frown slightly, acutely aware that the once “merchant”-like Baron Leander had changed greatly!

What was going on with him?

“Byrne, heh, recently, I’ve made enormous gains in the Spirit Realm!” the Baron explained, sitting on the couch, his body trembling slightly, his eyes darting around.

“I’ve reached the middle rank of Transmutation!”