Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 60: Near the Top

Around him, the air seemed to shift.

Growing denser, heavier. As if even the cave itself had held its breath.

Élisa, just a few steps away, slowly turned her head toward him.

She frowned — not out of worry, but with a kind of startled, instinctive vigilance.

She knew that kind of energy.

Not because she’d ever seen it in him — no, this was a first.

But she’d felt it before.

In some of the Awakened from her tribe... and in her own mother.

Even though her mother had never managed to awaken her first Stigmata, she and three other elders had come closer than anyone else.

But in Dylan?

It was too soon. Too fast.

And yet... there he was. Sitting, unmoving, while the essence within him stabilized.

An invisible current had begun to flow through the cave, and the nearby crystal lights flickered faintly, as if the ambient mana was adjusting to this new presence.

Élisa stepped forward, almost against her will.

She stared at him, her golden eyes piercing the invisible veil only the finely tuned senses could detect.

"He’s actually doing it..." she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Dylan didn’t hear her.

His eyes remained closed, hands resting tense on his knees, every muscle vibrating — not in pain, but in raw tension. Energy, gathering and forging itself.

His chest rose slowly — a deep, almost heavy breath.

And when the rhythm of his essence finally settled into harmony, a subtle tremor rippled through the air.

Not as violent as Maggie’s had been...

But like a calm boil — contained, measured.

A silent assertion of presence.

In the shadows, Maggie allowed herself a faint smile — barely perceptible.

Élisa remained still, her eyes locked on the young man who had just crossed the second threshold of his Awakening.

Beneath his brown skin, luminous veins traced a shifting network of light.

And yet... Dylan’s breath stayed calm.

His body had adjusted — as if it had been made to carry this new, dense presence.

---

Dylan finally opened his eyes — and saw the world.

Everything looked sharper. Clearer. As if he’d spent his whole life looking through fog and was only now truly awake.

In front of him, Maggie and Élisa.

They were both watching him, openly, but there was no curiosity in their gaze.

Only a silent tension. A kind of unconscious apprehension.

Maggie hadn’t moved, still leaning against the cave wall, her expression unreadable.

Élisa had come closer. Quietly. She sat cross-legged in front of him, back straight.

Dylan held back a smile.

The sunlight streaming through the cave entrance struck the top of Élisa’s shaved head, casting a clean, absurd glint in the otherwise heavy atmosphere.

Then, suddenly, a low hum stirred within him.

Not a sound from outside — no, it vibrated inside him, deep and intimate, like his own blood had found a voice. It made him shudder, almost curl in on himself.

But gradually, the humming sharpened. Took shape. Became clearer...

And he realized — it wasn’t in his head.

It was a voice. A real one.

"Lan... Dylan... hey... how do you feel?"

Élisa. She’d leaned toward him, and as she tilted her head, a shaft of sunlight slipped past and struck his too-sensitive eyes.

Dylan winced. Raised a hand to shield himself from the glare, fingers still sluggish.

A guttural rasp escaped his throat — not quite a word, just a coarse sound.

And finally: "Ahh... I’m fine..." he muttered, voice low and rough, like each word had to scrape its way out.

He shifted, slowly withdrawing into the shade, letting his eyes readjust.

Leaning back against his suitcase, he exhaled sharply.

"Well... I managed to form my spiritual core," he said, his voice still a bit hoarse. freewebnøvel.coɱ

"Like Maggie said — it’s like this burning center, right here, deep in my chest. And now... my body’s drawing from it. It runs on it."

He glanced toward Élisa, his gaze briefly locking with hers.

"And you said it was a link — a passage to the soul. I can feel that. It’s hazy for now, but... if I keep pushing... I think I could reach it."

Élisa stood, silent, and extended a hand.

Dylan took it, not bothering to act tough, and let her pull him to his feet.

She studied him a moment before speaking again, this time more carefully:

"And you don’t feel anything strange? I mean... beyond the stabilization. That new current of energy flowing through you — how does it feel?"

Dylan raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question.

"Honestly? Not really. Just... every time I breathe, it pulses. Like a wave pushing through my whole body. It’s warm. Dense. Alive."

He paused, staring at his own fingers as if they might give away what was happening inside.

"But yeah — I still shiver. Not pain, but... it’s like a surge. Overwhelming, at first. Same thing happened when I first awakened my perception. I could hear my own blood moving. It drove me crazy. But I learned to tune it out. Same deal here. I think I can handle it. I will handle it."

Élisa leaned back against the wall, her gaze distant for a second before she sighed softly.

"I won’t say I panicked... but I was close."

She looked up at Dylan, her expression tightening.

"Earlier... I thought you were about to awaken your first Stigmata."

Her words landed softly — but their weight filled the air like a drop of ink in water.

Dylan looked up, eyebrows creased slightly, while Maggie pushed off from the wall, suddenly alert.

He crossed his arms, his gray eyes faintly glowing in the low light.

"You’ve talked about those before... but what do you mean, you thought I was about to awaken it?"

His voice carried no edge — only a deep, anchoring curiosity. A flame barely aware of its own heat.

Élisa nodded slowly, arms folded across her chest.

"I told you — a Stigmata isn’t just power. It’s a raw expression of the soul. It appears when your essence and your will sync in perfect harmony."

She paused, fixing her eyes on him.

"Some people get lucky and it happens when they form their core. Others can spend their entire lives trying... and never reach it."

There was a flicker in her golden gaze. A fracture — subtle, but unmistakable.

"My mother... she awakened long before I was born. But in forty-five years, she never managed to manifest her first Stigmata."

Her tone remained even — but her eyes had grown sharper. Steadier.

"And yet... earlier, I saw it. In you. I felt your will merge with the surrounding essence. I saw the strands reaching for your skin, ready to bind."

She took a breath — like confessing something she hadn’t wanted to believe.

"And then... it slipped. Like something in you wasn’t quite ready yet."