Eo ascended, retracing the path he had fallen from before losing consciousness. Ozure’s warning lingered in his mind—there were other powerful beings, some equal to or even greater than the kraken itself. The stone guardian had proven that blindly wandering into unknown waters was reckless.

  For now, he needed control.

  He found a crevice between jagged rock formations, a place hidden from prying eyes. The water here was still, allowing him to focus.

  Then, he turned his attention inward.

  His bloodlust had changed. What was once a wild, mindless urge to kill had become something sharper, more refined. No longer a reckless hunger but a force of awareness. It heightened his senses, refined his reactions, and turned survival into an art.

  Eo had felt the change gradually, but now, as he let it pulse through his form, he understood—this was no longer just bloodlust.

  It was something else entirely.

  Something born from his very essence.

  Abyssal Instinct.

  He decided on the name without hesitation. It was fitting. A hunter’s awareness sharpened by the abyss. Not just rage—but control, precision, and dominance.

  But now, there was something else.

  The amber.

  That spark of heat, a foreign presence deep within his core. Unlike mist, which flowed effortlessly under his will, this new energy resisted shaping. It was heavier, denser—unyielding.

  Eo studied it, reaching inward, attempting to mold it as he had done with mist. But where mist obeyed, the amber stood firm.

  Then what if he did the same as before?

  Abyssal Instinct had been born from merging two forces—could he merge this amber with Abyssal Instinct as well?

  With measured control, he directed Abyssal Instinct toward the amber, attempting to weave them together.

  A violent reaction exploded within him.

  The abyssal energy lashed at the amber, trying to consume it, but the amber pushed back. Unlike mist, which had seamlessly fused with bloodlust, the amber was too solid, too distinct.

  His body convulsed.

  Where mist had flowed like water, the amber was like molten stone—unbending, unrelenting. His instincts screamed at him to stop, but he refused.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  This was not a failure.

  It was a challenge.

  And Eo had never backed away from a challenge.

  He gritted his will, pushing the two forces together, studying their resistance. They could not be forced.

  They had to be understood.

  Got it. Let’s add some real struggle to the merging process—pain, instability, and the risk of failure. I'll extend it by another 600 words and make sure Eo faces resistance instead of immediate success.

  Eo clenched his form as the Abyssal Instinct coiled around the amber energy. At first, it felt smooth, like how mist had blended with bloodlust before. He expected it to merge the same way—fluid, natural, instinctive.

  But it didn’t.

  The moment Abyssal Instinct tried to consume the amber, something went horribly wrong.

  A sharp, foreign pulse exploded within him.

  It wasn’t just resistance—it was rejection.

  The amber force pushed back, violently repelling his Abyssal Instinct. The reaction sent shockwaves through his core, disrupting his balance. Eo lurched, his form flickering uncontrollably as the force rippled through his body.

  He was being torn apart.

  Not physically—his body remained intact—but the energies clashed inside him like warring storms, one chaotic and adaptive, the other unmoving and absolute.

  It wasn’t like merging mist and bloodlust.

  This wasn’t a fusion.

  It was a collision.

  The Abyssal Instinct, fueled by his predatory nature, tried to dominate the amber—to mold it, to consume it, to turn it into something that could be controlled.

  But the amber energy did not yield.

  It did not bend, did not break.

  It burned.

  A sudden, searing heat surged through Eo’s form. It felt as if something deep inside him had caught fire. His instincts screamed at him—danger, danger, danger.

  Abyssal Instinct was trying to overwhelm the amber, but the amber had a defense of its own. It did not retaliate with force—it simply refused to be contained.

  And in that refusal, it retaliated with pure, unrelenting heat.

  Eo’s form convulsed. His very essence was boiling.

  Panic set in. If he pushed any further, would he survive?

  His Abyssal Instinct flared wildly in response, trying to suppress the burning pain, trying to consume the fire with its abyssal nature. But it wasn’t enough.

  Something was breaking.

  For the first time since his evolution, Eo felt true danger—not from an external predator, but from himself.

  His instincts screamed at him to stop.

  Retreat. Let go.

  But he was stubborn.

  This amber energy—he needed to understand it. To control it. To make it part of himself.

  But what if that was the wrong approach?

  The thought struck him hard, cutting through the pain.

  Mist had merged with bloodlust because they were alike.

  Amber was something else entirely.

  Then why was he treating it the same?

  Gritting his willpower, Eo stopped fighting.

  He loosened his grip, easing the Abyssal Instinct’s forceful hold on the amber.

  And the moment he did, the burning pain lessened.

  The fire still raged inside him, but it was no longer consuming him. Instead, it crackled—waiting.

  The amber did not resist him because it was an enemy.

  It resisted because it could not be controlled—only awakened.

  Eo breathed, steadying himself.

  He would not force this power into submission.

  He would adapt.

  His instincts, his very nature—they had to evolve once more.

  And so, slowly, carefully, he tried again.

  But this time, instead of crushing the amber with abyssal force, he approached it with something new—understanding.

  And in that moment, something shifted.

  A spark.

  A connection.

  It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t complete. But it was the first step.

  Eo had learned something.

  And for a creature of endless evolution, that was everything.