Rise of The Abandoned Husband

I stepped into the hidden chamber, my heart freezing in my chest. But as the dust cleared, I realized my mistake. The woman on the altar wasn't Isabelle—just someone with a similar build. Relief washed through me, quickly replaced by disgust as I took in the full horror of Tristram Mercer's secret sanctuary.

The circular room was lined with shelves containing hundreds of jars. Each one glowed with a different colored essence—some bright as sunlight, others murky and dull. The unconscious woman lay abandoned on the altar, tubes and needles still attached to her arms like some grotesque experiment.

"Stay back!" Tristram's voice cracked with fear as he retreated behind the altar. "You have no idea what you're dealing with!"

I advanced steadily. "I think I do. You're harvesting something from these people."

"Not just people," he said, gesturing wildly at the jars. "Cities, regions, even specific moments in time! I've collected them all!"

A jar near me pulsed with a familiar blue light. Something about it resonated with my spirit, calling to me. When I looked closer, I saw a label: "Knight - Partial Extraction."

My blood boiled. "You stole from me."

Tristram backed against the far wall. "Just a small portion! You wouldn't even miss it!"

I closed the distance between us in an instant, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground. "What exactly are these essences?"

"Powers of creation!" he gasped, clawing at my hand. "The fundamental energies that govern existence! Please...I can't breathe!"

I loosened my grip slightly. "Explain. Now."

"Every living being—every place—has its own unique essence," he wheezed. "With the right technique, these essences can be extracted and used to alter fate itself!"

I glanced around at the hundreds of jars. "You did this to all these people?"

"Most are still alive!" he protested. "The extraction only takes a portion—"

"Like you took from me?" I tightened my grip again, watching his eyes bulge.

"Please," he begged. "I've spent decades perfecting this art. I can teach you! Think of the power you could wield!"

I dropped him unceremoniously. He crumpled to the floor, gasping.

"Show me everything," I commanded.

Tristram scrambled to his feet, eager to save his skin. "Yes, yes of course! Look here—" He gestured to a section of shelves containing particularly bright essences. "These are the powers extracted from particularly fortunate individuals. And these—" he pointed to jars with swirling, cloud-like contents, "—are from entire cities."

I picked up a jar labeled "Gyeon City - Central District." The essence inside looked like trapped sunlight.

"You extracted power from Gyeon City itself?" I asked, horrified yet fascinated.

"Yes! Places have spirits too. The older and more prosperous, the more powerful the essence." His voice took on an excited tone as he warmed to his subject. "Cities, ancient trees, rivers that have flowed for centuries—they all contain powers of creation that can be harvested."

I set the jar down carefully. "And what happens to the source after extraction?"

Tristram hesitated. "They...weaken. A person might experience a run of bad luck. A place might suffer economic decline or natural disasters."

"So you're stealing good fortune," I concluded. "Draining it from its rightful owners for your personal gain."

He had the decency to look uncomfortable. "It's more complicated than that. The powers of creation are meant to be used! Left alone, they simply maintain the natural order. But harnessed properly—"

"You can break that order," I finished. "Tilt the scales in your favor."

"Exactly!" His eyes lit up. "Imagine never failing, never losing, always finding the perfect opportunity! That's what these essences provide when properly consumed."

I picked up the jar labeled with my name. "And this? What did you take from me?"

"Just a fraction of your fate absorption ability," he admitted. "Not enough to harm you permanently. Your physique naturally regenerates fortune faster than normal humans."

I studied the swirling blue essence. Part of me, captured in a jar like a specimen. "How is the extraction performed?"

Tristram pointed to the altar and the unconscious woman. "For individuals, physical contact is required. The subject must be subdued—usually sleeping or unconscious. Then a specialized technique pulls the essence through specific meridian points."

"And for places? Cities?"

"More complex," he said, gaining confidence as he shared his knowledge. "It requires a formation array anchored at key spiritual nodes throughout the target area. The process takes days, sometimes weeks for larger locations."

I gestured around the room. "You've been doing this for years?"

He nodded, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "Decades. My father began the work, and I refined it. The Mercer family's true legacy."

"And your son? Was he also part of this... legacy?"

Tristram's expression darkened. "Gene lacked the talent for the more advanced techniques. He could track fortune patterns, but the actual extraction was beyond his abilities."

"So you used him as bait," I said. "While you prepared to ambush me."

"We had a plan," he muttered bitterly. "One you ruined."

I moved among the shelves, examining the various essences. Some looked fresh and vibrant, others faded and dim.

"What happens if you try to extract too much?" I asked.

Tristram glanced at a section of black, tar-like essences. "The subject dies. Or worse."

"Worse?"

"Some become... empty. Still walking, still breathing, but without the spark that makes life worth living. Eternal bad luck, if you will. Everything they touch fails. Everyone they love abandons them."

I thought of all the people—all the places—he had damaged with his greed. "Can the essences be returned to their original owners?"

Tristram shook his head firmly. "Once extracted, the connection is severed. The essence can only be consumed by another."

"Consumed? How?"

"Through cultivation techniques I've developed. The consumer absorbs the essence, integrating it with their own spiritual foundation."

I picked up my own essence jar again. "And the effects?"

"Increased luck, enhanced spiritual power, accelerated cultivation," he listed. "The benefits vary depending on the source and potency."

"Any drawbacks?" I pressed.

He hesitated before answering. "Some users experience... side effects. Nightmares containing memories from the essence donor. Personality changes. In rare cases, spiritual conflicts if the essence is too incompatible."

I set the jar down, a plan forming in my mind. "And these essences—all of them—they can't be returned?"

"No," Tristram confirmed. "They must be consumed or they'll eventually dissipate."

I glanced at the unconscious woman on the altar. "Wake her and release her."

"But the extraction isn't complete—"

"Now," I commanded, my voice leaving no room for argument.

Trembling slightly, Tristram approached the altar and removed the needles from the woman's arms. He pressed several acupoints on her neck and forehead, causing her to stir and groan softly.

"She'll be disoriented," he explained. "But otherwise unharmed. The extraction was only partial."

As the woman regained consciousness, I helped her sit up. "You're safe now," I told her gently. "Can you stand?"

She nodded weakly, her eyes unfocused. With my assistance, she got to her feet.

"Take her outside," I instructed Tristram. "Give her enough money for food and lodging, then return immediately."

"You're letting her go?" he asked, surprised.

"Should I not?"

He swallowed nervously. "No, no—letting her go is merciful. I'll do as you say."

I watched them leave, using the moment alone to process what I'd discovered. Powers of creation—essentially the life force and fortune of people and places, bottled like wine. The implications were staggering.

When Tristram returned, I was examining a particularly bright essence labeled "Spring Festival, Year of the Golden Dragon."

"You extracted essence from an event?" I asked.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Particularly auspicious moments carry tremendous power. That jar contains the collective joy and hope of thousands who attended the festival decades ago."

The weight of his crimes pressed down on me. This wasn't simple theft—it was stealing people's happiness, their good fortune, their very essence.

"How many have you killed doing this?" I demanded.

Tristram looked away. "Twelve. Mostly early experiments before I refined the technique."

"And cities? Places?"

"None destroyed completely," he said quickly. "Just weakened. Like I said, most recover over time, especially larger locations with stronger spiritual foundations."

I set down the festival essence and turned to face him fully. "Since these essences can't be returned, and will otherwise dissipate..."

Tristram tensed, clearly sensing my intention. "You want to take them for yourself."

"Is there another option?" I challenged.

"No," he admitted. "They must be used or lost forever."

I walked slowly around the room, taking in the full scope of his collection. Hundreds of jars, hundreds of lives and places partially drained of their fortune.

"Teach me how to absorb them," I said finally.

"You'll need to start small," he cautioned, unable to hide his surprise at my decision. "Your body must adjust to foreign essences gradually."

"Start with mine," I instructed, retrieving the jar with my own essence.

Tristram nodded and guided me to sit on a cushioned stool. "Open your spiritual center—the dantian. Create a receptive state, as if you were about to begin cultivation."

I closed my eyes, focusing inward until I felt the familiar warmth of my spiritual core.

"Now, I'll open the jar," Tristram explained. "The essence will naturally seek to return to its origin, so yours will be easier than most to absorb. Breathe it in slowly, guiding it to your spiritual center."

I heard the soft pop of the jar's seal breaking, followed by a strange tingling sensation in the air before me. When I inhaled, I felt something cool and familiar enter my body—like breathing in a part of myself I hadn't known was missing.

The essence flowed through my meridians, eventually settling in my dantian. There was a moment of resistance, then a seamless integration as it rejoined my spiritual foundation.

"Good," Tristram murmured. "Very good. Your body accepted it perfectly."

I opened my eyes, feeling subtly more complete. "What next?"

"Normally I'd recommend waiting several days before attempting another," he said hesitantly. "But given your exceptional constitution..."

"We don't have days," I interrupted. "Select the next essence."

Tristram nervously retrieved a jar containing a softly glowing white essence. "This is from a Spiritual Elder who had exceptional healing abilities. It should be relatively compatible with your foundation."

The process repeated, but this time the sensation was markedly different. As I inhaled the unfamiliar essence, it felt like breathing in ice water—sharp, cold, and invasive. My meridians burned as it traveled through them, and when it reached my dantian, the essence resisted integration.

I gritted my teeth, forcing my spiritual power to subdue and absorb the foreign energy. After several minutes of internal struggle, the resistance ceased, and the essence merged with my own.

When I opened my eyes, Tristram was watching me with undisguised fascination. "Remarkable," he murmured. "Most would require days to integrate a foreign essence of that potency."

I stood, testing my body. My spiritual perception felt sharper, and I could sense a new quality to my energy—a soothing, restorative element that hadn't been there before.

"How many can I safely absorb at once?" I asked.

Tristram frowned. "Safely? No more than two or three per day, even for someone of your caliber. The spiritual conflict increases exponentially with each addition."

I looked at the hundreds of jars surrounding us. "And all of these? How long would it take?"

"Months, possibly years," he admitted. "And that assumes your spiritual foundation can handle the strain at all. Too much too quickly could tear your soul apart."

I considered this information carefully. The essences couldn't be returned to their original owners, and leaving them to dissipate seemed wasteful. But absorbing them all was clearly impossible in my current timeframe.

"What about the city essences?" I asked, gesturing to the shelf containing the jars labeled with location names. "How are they different?"

"More complex, more powerful," Tristram explained. "They contain the collective fortune of thousands, sometimes millions of people. Absorbing even one requires tremendous spiritual capacity."

An idea formed in my mind. "Could they be used to strengthen a specific location instead? Not returned, but transferred?"

Tristram looked thoughtful. "Theoretically, yes. The essence could be channeled into a new host location through a proper formation array. But the benefits would be diffuse, spread across the entire area."

"What about Gyeon City?" I pressed. "Could its own extracted essence be reintegrated somehow?"

"Possibly," he conceded. "The spiritual signature would be compatible. But the process would be complex, and I've never attempted it."

I made my decision. "Here's what will happen. You will teach me everything you know about these essences. How to extract them, how to use them, how to transfer them. All your knowledge, all your techniques."

Tristram nodded quickly. "Of course. Whatever you wish."

"And after that," I continued, "we will develop a method to return the city essences to their proper locations, or at least to strengthen areas that need it most."

"That could take months of research," he protested weakly.

"Then we'd better start now," I replied coldly.

Tristram glanced around at his life's work, now effectively under my control. "And what about the individual essences? The ones that can't be returned?"

I looked at the countless jars, each containing a portion of someone's fortune, someone's life force. The responsible thing would be to leave them untouched. But with Isabelle still captive, with enemies growing stronger by the day, could I afford such moral luxury?

I sighed helplessly. "Ah, then I can only bear the pain and absorb these powers of creation."