Hide closed his eyes, his breathing ragged, and forcefully pulled the corrupted energy into his Dark Abyssal Core. He guided the violent stream, filtering the density of the mountain's ambient mana to fuel the creation process.
He finally completed another cycle. But the moment the internal connection severed, a sharp, excruciating spike of pain shot through his temples, radiating down his spinal cord like liquid fire. Hide gasped.
He had hit a cooldown.
Hide gritted his teeth, wiping a bead of cold sweat from his pale forehead. This was an entirely unprecedented sensation. Back when he only started here, Hide had easily managed to chain ten consecutive cycles of phantom creation without stopping even once.
His body had processed the energy with terrifying, flawless efficiency. But now after 17 cycles, his physical vessel was loudly and violently protesting. His muscles felt like lead, and a deep, agonizing ache had crept into his very being.
