Using his divine powers hadn't cost him any mana, but it had definitely left him tired. Vael stretched, arms still out from before, then stood up, cleaned the chimera's corpse, and stepped out of his room, heading for the ship's common room for fresh air.
It didn't take him long to get there, the common room wasn't too far away from the student quarters. Wide and circular, it was lined with cushioned seats bolted to the floor. A giant screen was fixed upon the center of one wall, surrounded by snack dispensers and vending machines. The lights were dim, the air filled with the scent of fried synth-meat and instant noodles.
The place was usually filled with a dozen or so of his classmates at one time, sitting around chatting and generally enjoying each other's company.
He'd expected the same today. Most of them would have cast him a few funny looks, maybe throw some snickers along his way, whispering after the whole boot-licking incident. But none of that happened.
Instead, the room was packed. Several dozen students stood huddled around the massive screen, cheering and shouting like they were watching a sports final.
How could he have forgotten? Today was the final battle in Ossarid.
Ossarid was a B-tier world, was currently under siege by Elowen, the goddess of wind and travel.
These Plane Conquering Games, or The Grand Conquest, were exactly what they sounded like. Giant, bloody wars fought in real, living worlds. Interested players were handed a set of coordinates, where they were tasked with different objectives. Some short games, including battle royale, exploration format, lasted for two to three months. Others, like the one on the screen where you were tasked to conquer entire worlds or kingdoms, while simultaneously wiping out your competition, could even last for several years.
Everyone had their own strategies to win such games. Some people built armies. Others, like Kyros, one of the only two remaining players left in the game, would marry into the royal family of one of the bigger nations and slowly poison their way to the top.
On the screen, sat three commentators, two with horns and the third one with blue skin.
"Kyros is holding the left flank, but Elowen's mechs are pushing hard!"
"Honestly, the only reason he's even in this fight is because of that genius move last season—marrying into Virellia's royal family gave him half their army."
"Yeah, and now he's using it to go toe-to-toe with a goddess. This war could go either way."
Vael remembered this game just because of how popular it had been. Although he hadn't seen this part because last time he had been holed up inside his room for the entire journey, he did know of the result.
Elowen, the goddess of wind and travel, was going to besiege the castle, killing that other guy, whatever his name was, and then putting his head on a spike for all to see.
The screen shifted, focusing on a radiant woman with flowing black hair riding atop the shoulders of a giant mech, wind spiraling around her. Behind her charged an army of mages, cultivators, and nearly a dozen mechs, all racing toward a distant fortress.
At first glance, it looked like complete chaos. But for anyone from Vornak, it was pretty normal.
Vornak was one of the few civilizations that specialized in conquering, colonizing, and even selling other worlds. Over the years, it has discovered and developed several pathways to cultivation. Each is completely different from the next.
Vael, for example, was a mage. His strength came from his mana core inside his heart. Zathiel, a cultivator, didn't even have a core, instead, his body was filled with meridians and spiritual pathways that strengthened his physique and cleansed impurities. There were others too: technomancers, psychics, beast tamers, alchemists, runesmiths, priests, and more. Each path had its own unique method of cultivation, and each one altered the body in a different way.
That's when the thought hit him.
His body tensed with excitement as he stared back at the screen, eyes narrowing, not at the battle, but at the people.
For cultivators, it was the meridians that channeled and refined qi.
For mages like him, it was the mana core.
Technomancers had neural implants. Psychics developed brain folds and crystalline synapses. Even alchemists and spirit callers had altered glands and energy-circulating nodes built into their biology. It was all Biological.
And if he could extract something as complex as elemental affinity with a single touch…
Then what was stopping him from reaching deeper?
Like pulling out a cultivator's meridians, or brain folds, or some altered glands before grafting them into his own body?
--
Their journey back to the academy soon came to an end. With the ship approaching Aetherion, the planet where the Aetherion Institute of Planar Warfare was located. All the students in his group were standing around in the lobby, commoners and the less rich nobles stood holding their luggage to the side, while the rich nobles stood empty-handed, their luggage well inside those spatial storages of theirs.
Vael, sadly, belonged to the first group, hauling his briefcases to his side, gazing down from the ship's window as their ship entered the planet's atmosphere.
Down there, one could see the Aetherion academy city stretched out like a glowing circuit carved into the land. At its heart stood the Main Campus, a towering spire of dark metal and glass, massive enough to be mistaken for a city of its own. Surrounding it were nine distinct districts, each one shaped and engineered for a different cultivation path. Some shimmered with arcane energy, others buzzed with drones or pulsed with bio-luminescent fields.
Looking at the approaching academy, Vael couldn't help as a small smile appeared on his lips.