Inside—

Lay a single, massive bone. Roughly the length of Max's arm, thick and yellowed with age, but laced with dark red runic veins—natural, not carved—and pulsing faintly as if still alive.

Max stared at it, stunned.

"...This is a dragon bone," he muttered under his breath.

He held his breath and focused more closely.

Not just any dragon's bone.

It carried the aura of royalty, of dominion—something primal and overwhelming. It felt close to what he'd once read about in ancient texts…

"Maybe a True Dragon?"

But after a moment, he shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "If it was from a true dragon… this entire region would be suffocating in its presence. This is something else. A descendant maybe. A lesser bloodline."

Still…

Even a fragment from a lesser true-blooded dragon was no small thing.

It radiated immense energy—raw and dense. And it was untouched by any refining. The villagers must've thought it was a sacred relic… and to them, it might've been. But to Max?

This was valuable.

Dangerous.

And… useful.

Max reached toward the box once more, his fingers curling tightly around the ancient dragon bone.

The moment his skin made contact, the pressure returned—an invisible weight that pressed against his chest, daring him to submit.

But this time, Max was ready.

His eyes narrowed.

His right hand ignited in black flames, the cursed energy swirling hungrily, crackling with dark light.

"Devour," he whispered, his voice calm, focused.

The flames surged in response, leaping off his skin like a living creature, wrapping around the bone with violent intensity. Within seconds, the massive relic began to blacken, crumble, and disintegrate—its mighty aura consumed by the infernal blaze.

By the time the flames dimmed, all that remained was a small pile of glowing ash.

And then—

[Draconic Essence increased by 242]

[Draconic Essence: 300]

Max's eyes widened as the message flashed across his vision.

He exhaled, stunned. "Two hundred and forty-two...?"

That was a massive leap.

He had expected a substantial boost—the pressure from the bone alone had hinted at its rarity—but this was beyond his estimates.

He clenched his fists, feeling the surge of new strength flowing through his limbs.

Three hundred Draconic Essences, added to his Dragon Scales Transformation and his natural growth, had brought his physical form to a terrifying level.

He hadn't even fully tested his limits after advancing to Level 1 of the Adept Rank, but now?

Now he was confident.

Level 3 of Seeker Rank?

Level 4?

He could take them. Easily.

And at full strength… even he didn't know what he was truly capable of.

He looked down at his arms, feeling the energy pulsing beneath his skin like a heartbeat.

"Now," Max whispered to himself, his voice thick with quiet awe, "I have a body so divine… so indestructible… no one in the Lower Domain should be able to break it."

Even his 433 Dragon Scales alone made him nearly invincible. But now—with 300 Essences amplifying his draconic foundation—his body had truly become a fortress.

Not just sturdy. Sacred.

He smiled faintly. "Even peak Expert Ranks would struggle to leave a scratch."

Just then—

The flap of his tent was pushed aside.

Barry stepped in, holding a crooked stick in one hand, his other resting on his hip. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Big Brother..." he said, eyes bright. "Should I call you that? Can I?"

Max blinked, then laughed softly. He nodded.

"You can call me Big Brother," he said warmly. "Though my name's Max."

Barry beamed at that.

Max gestured toward the bed. "Come, sit."

Barry obeyed, hopping up onto the edge of the bed with a bounce, the stick still in his lap like a prized possession.

Max looked at him for a moment, thoughtful.

Then he called out mentally, "Blob?"

"Yeah?" came the response almost immediately, dry as usual.

"Can I send the memory of a skill directly into this kid's mind through my soul?"

"Of course," Blob replied casually. "It's one of the basic uses of soul energy. As long as you're willing and your target's soul is open, you can share experiences, memories, even skills."

He paused for a second.

"But just know… once he awakens his class, the skills you give him won't automatically be recognized by his system. So if he trains with it now, he'll know it, but the system won't formally register it."

Max nodded slowly.

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Right now, I want to give him a head start. Something to believe in. Something to sharpen."

He turned to Barry, eyes calm and focused.

"You ready to learn something cool?"

Barry nodded excitedly. "More than ready!"

Max smiled, then reached out and placed his hand gently on the boy's forehead.

"Then let me show you the first step," he whispered.

And with a thought—he poured the memory of Basic Sword Art skill directly into Barry's mind.

Barry groaned softly, clutching his head as a wave of foreign knowledge surged through his mind. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, he looked like he might faint. But Max, already anticipating the reaction, gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and guided the influx of memory using his own soul energy.

The chaos in Barry's mind began to settle.

And after a few minutes, it was over.

Barry blinked, stunned. His mouth hung open slightly as he stared at Max in disbelief.

"I-I… suddenly know so many things," he stammered. "I know how to use a sword. Like… really use it."

His eyes widened in awe, and the already deep respect towards Max in his gaze grew tenfold.

Max gave him a small smile. "Good," he said calmly. "Now go and practice what you've learned a few times. Burn it into your muscle memory."

Barry nodded enthusiastically and stepped to the side, gripping the stick in both hands like it was a treasured blade. He took a deep breath and settled into a basic sword stance, the memory guiding his form.

Then he began—

Cut. Parry. Horizontal slash. Upward arc. Backward pivot. Guard stance.

Each movement was slightly awkward at first—his small limbs not yet strong enough to keep perfect form—but the intent was there. The foundation was solid.

Max watched silently, occasionally offering soft guidance.

"Lower your shoulders."

"Bend your knees a little more."

"Your stance is too wide—pull it in."

Barry absorbed it all, adjusting, refining. And after just two rounds of practice, Max gave him a nod of approval.

"That's good. You've got the basics down. From here on, it's all up to you—how far you push yourself, how much time you're willing to put in."

Barry stood straight and bowed deeply, still holding the stick to his chest. "Thank you, Big Brother Max! I'll get really strong—I promise!"

Then, grinning from ear to ear, he ran out of the tent, eager to begin his solo practice.

Max watched him go and shook his head lightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

'That kid's got spirit.'

---

Some time passed, and Max was called by a group of villagers. They had packed up the camp and were ready to move.

"We've prepared a cart for you," Marcus said. "Please, ride comfortably."

Max gave a silent nod and did as they asked, stepping up and settling himself in the cart's straw-padded back.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by Aunomay