Eo drifted in the depths, surrounded by the silent vastness of the ocean. The water pressed against his form, its familiar touch grounding him as he turned his focus inward. His translucent body shimmered with faint traces of energy, but his attention was locked onto the core he had recently forged within himself.

  The core pulsed—steady, yet incomplete. A construct meant to refine and channel magic, but its function was not as seamless as he had anticipated. He activated it, drawing upon his Elemental Blood, hoping to circulate energy throughout his body.

  Nothing.

  The magic refused to flow, clumping aimlessly within him like stagnant water. His Elemental Blood, superior in composition to that of humans, was meant to act as a carrier of energy. Yet, without a structured path—without the equivalent of veins to guide its movement—the magic remained inert.

  Frowning, or at least the mental equivalent of it, Eo decided to push further. He willed different elements to course through him, testing their reactions.

  First, water magic. He aligned himself with the surrounding ocean, attempting to merge the natural energy of the water with his own. The response was sluggish, erratic, as if the magic had no proper channel to follow.

  Next, fire magic. A surge of heat erupted from within, but instead of spreading evenly, it condensed haphazardly near the core, searing him from the inside. He winced—or rather, the closest sensation his being could register as discomfort.

  Then, lightning magic. A jolt ran through his body, its energy wild and untamed. His core trembled violently, as if rejecting the force.

  Pain.

  It started as a dull pressure, then escalated into something sharper, something wrong. The core began to pulse erratically, its structure trembling under the uncontrolled force. A warning—something was about to break.

  Eo immediately ceased all magical output, allowing his body to return to a neutral state. The pain subsided, but the problem remained.

  His core could generate magic. His Elemental Blood could carry it. But there was no system in place to direct its flow, no physiological equivalent to veins or pathways to regulate the circulation. The energy built up within him like a sealed container under pressure—unstable, chaotic, and ultimately inefficient.

  His existence was fundamentally different from that of humans. They had an intricate genetic framework governing their biological functions. He did not. The absence of such a structure was preventing his magic from flowing as intended.

  For the first time, Eo encountered a limitation not of power, but of design.

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  He would have to find a solution.

  And this time, instinct alone would not be enough.

  Eo remained still, allowing the pain in his core to fade. The water around him drifted lazily, tiny particles suspended in the dim light filtering from above. His thoughts, however, were far from the ocean.

  He needed a system.

  A structure that would allow magic to circulate properly, much like how a river carves a path through the land. His Elemental Blood was an advanced medium, yet without direction, it was no different from stagnant water. This issue had to be solved, but how?

  A memory surfaced.

  Frid.

  Eo recalled the moment he had examined the hunter’s body, studying its structure with the detached curiosity of a scientist. At the time, he had been intrigued by the composition of human flesh, the way it functioned in layers—skin, muscle, bone, and beneath it all, an intricate network of veins.

  Yes. The veins.

  They had fascinated him. A complex web stretched throughout the body, delivering blood to every corner with precise efficiency. Frid’s veins had been a deep, branching blue, barely visible beneath his skin. But when Eo had examined him more closely, he had seen how they pulsed, how they carried life.

  The heart pumped. The veins transported. The body thrived.

  That was what he lacked.

  His core was his heart, capable of generating and pushing energy. His Elemental Blood carried that energy. But without a structured pathway, the flow was erratic, inefficient. Humans had evolved veins to solve this problem.

  Could he do the same?

  Eo’s form shifted slightly as he considered the idea. His body was adaptable—constantly evolving based on his needs. If veins were a necessary component for efficient circulation, then he would create them.

  But there was another problem.

  Veins in humans were biological. They were composed of living tissue, formed over generations through evolution. He had no such luxury. If he wanted veins, he would need to construct them, shaping something entirely new within his body.

  A deep pulse echoed through his core, the lingering strain from his earlier experiment reminding him of its limits. He could not afford reckless testing. This would require precision.

  He visualized Frid’s circulatory system once more, recalling the branching patterns of veins, the way they spread from the heart to every extremity. He would not copy it exactly—his body was not human—but he would take the concept and refine it for his needs.

  What material would serve as his veins?

  His current body lacked organic tissue, but he had something even better—magic.

  If he could create channels within himself, structured conduits made of condensed magical essence, they could serve the same function. Instead of blood carrying oxygen, his Elemental Blood would carry raw magical energy, guided through these pathways.

  He focused.

  Slowly, carefully, he activated his core again. The pain was still there, but he ignored it, redirecting his attention to his body. Instead of forcing magic outward as before, he imagined thin, thread-like structures forming within him—pathways where energy could flow rather than gather chaotically.

  The first attempt failed.

  The magic dispersed, unable to hold its shape. His form was too fluid, too undefined to maintain structured channels.

  He tried again.

  This time, he concentrated on reinforcement. He would need something more stable, a foundation for the pathways to latch onto. Perhaps a denser form of his Elemental Blood? A hybrid between solid and fluid, allowing both structure and adaptability?

  Minutes passed.

  Then—something shifted.

  A tiny thread of energy remained.

  It was weak, barely noticeable, but it did not dissolve like the others. A proof of concept. A fragile first step toward solving his problem.

  Eo studied it carefully. He had only just begun, but now he knew—this was possible.

  And he would refine it, no matter how long it took.