Chapter 47: The Spatial Ring
Returning as a Master changed everything.
With his new rank came authority—real authority. Team leadership rights, confidential briefings, privileged access to cultivation resources, and a seat at the table when strategic decisions were made. On the Moon base, that meant more than just prestige. It meant freedom.
Frank's first stop was the Command Office, a fortified chamber carved into silver-tinted lunar rock, with mana conduits humming softly along its walls. Here, he gave a formal report on the Core expedition: the trials, the bloodshed, the nightmare beasts, and the irreversible loss of thirty comrades. Their names would be etched into the records.
The Head of the Moon Base, Overseer Daqel, listened silently, his weathered face as emotionless as a blade. When Frank finished, Daqel nodded once, solemn and sharp.
"You're one of the few to come back as a Master," he said. "Means you've earned the right to choose your path."
And that was exactly what Frank intended to do.
He headed straight to the Lunar Exchange Hall, a tower of mana glass and alloy steel, its upper levels restricted to elites. Now that he had the Master badge on his identity crystal, the doors opened for him—literally and figuratively.
Frank didn't waste time.
He bypassed the elemental skill section and went straight to the second floor: Advanced Combat Arts.
Rows of techniques lined the walls—Sword Styles, Beast Mastery tomes, Arcane Force manuals, and more. But his eyes locked on the private wing: Body Refinement Manuals.
An attendant glanced up as he approached. "You'll need special clearance and sufficient merit points to access that wing."
Frank held out his crystal. It pulsed with silver light. The attendant blinked, lips parting slightly.
"Apologies, Master Frank. Right this way."
Inside, the manuals floated in crystal cubes, each protected by layered runic seals. Frank read their titles as he walked:
Bone-Tempering Sutra (Tier 3)Steel Veins of the Red Dragon (Tier 4)Ninefold Furnace Body (Tier 5)Titan's Hunger (Tier 6) — this one pulsed with subtle heat.
He stopped at a jade cube inscribed with ancient script. The title gleamed in a subdued light:
"Rooted Flesh, Boundless Bark – A Tree Cultivation Path."
He stared at it, stunned. The manual felt… right.
Titan's Hunger (Tier 6)
"Forged in war. Designed for those who fight alone against entire armies. Increases physical resilience, muscular density, and battle regeneration. Consumes vast amounts of energy. Recommended only for high-capacity bodies or symbiote hosts."
— Cost: 5,000 merit points + 30 high-grade mana crystals
Rooted Flesh, Boundless Bark – A Tree Cultivation Path (Tier 5)
"A hybrid manual compatible with plant-based or parasitic symbiotes. Allows the user to grow armor, enhance physical regeneration, and form defensive roots and bark-like skin in combat. Benefits increase when cultivating near nature-rich zones."
— Cost: 3,000 merit points + 20 high-grade mana crystals
Frank's hand hovered over the acceptance glyph.
The price was steep—3,000 merit points and 20 high-grade mana crystals.
He didn't flinch.
He placed his Spatial Ring over the exchange altar.
The crystals inside flared as the system drained the required resources. When the cube dimmed, the manual unsealed and slid gently into his hand.
"Done," the attendant whispered, watching with thinly veiled awe. "Only two people have ever claimed manuals from this section before."
He also exchanged for the titans hunger
Frank didn't answer.
Later, in the Base Leader's Quarters, he sat across from his old commander, now his equal in title, if not in reputation. They exchanged words, strategy, and updates. At one point, the commander's eyes narrowed at the thick band on Frank's hand.
"That ring…" he said. "Spatial design? Lucky find?"
Frank nodded, voice calm. "One of my encounters in the Core."
The man whistled. "I've seen a few. The Okolis Head has one—50 cubit space. Legendary for storage."
Frank smiled faintly.
His was 100.
And unlike most rings, his was untouched by decay, etched with living runes that occasionally shimmered with light.
It was no artifact from Earth, or the Moon, or even the current generation of explorers. It was older. Deeper.
And it was his secret.
That night, Frank sat cross-legged in his room, the Rooted Flesh manual opened in front of him, glowing softly in the moonlight filtering through his window. The vine on his arm stirred, sensing what was to come.
He closed his eyes.
And began to draw in mana into his body.