NOVEL'S EXTRA: I Will Die at the Peak-Chapter 58: Strange sound

Ravien had been flipping through several books at his desk for over an hour.

Despite carefully turning each page, he hadn’t found the slightest trace of what he was looking for. Jiho, meanwhile, had been standing silently in the room that entire time, perfectly still.

(POV: Ravien)

There’s nothing. I thought I might find a clue, but it was useless. Not a single line about how capacity increases. Maybe the library of this castle is just too old, or maybe it only contains books with basic information.

I gently closed the book and placed it back on the table. My eyes drifted toward Jiho. He was still in the same spot—silent, patient, motionless. If I asked him... would he even answer?

Hmmm.

Doesn’t hurt to try.

"Hey Jiho, before you go, I want to ask you something."

Jiho turned his gaze slightly, giving me his full attention. He responded in a calm and composed tone.

"What would you like to ask, sir?"

I ran a hand through my hair and leaned back in my chair. Settling into a more comfortable position, I locked eyes with him.

"Tell me, Jiho. Do you know how to increase capacity reserves? There wasn’t a single mention of it in the books I checked. It was like reading empty lines."

Jiho paused briefly, lowering his eyes as if collecting his thoughts. Then he raised his head and spoke in a steady voice:

"It’s normal that you couldn’t find anything, sir. The process of increasing capacity varies from person to person, so there isn’t a universally applicable method. That’s why the books don’t go into much detail."

(POV: Ravien)

Ravien raised his eyebrows slightly. Jiho’s words were different from what he’d expected.

"It varies from person to person?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. "What do you mean? Can you be a little more specific?"

Jiho tilted his head subtly, then began to speak in a soft, measured tone. His voice carried a teaching quality—informative, but without over-explaining.

"Capacity is like a piece that completes one’s Fate Ability, sir. Every ability has a different nature. How it works and what it requires changes depending on a person’s inner structure and how they use it."

Jiho paused briefly, studying Ravien’s reaction before continuing:

"For example, someone with a physical ability won’t necessarily increase their capacity reserves just by doing strength training. What improves is their efficiency—the way they utilize that capacity becomes more refined.

However, if that same person actively trains using their capacity during those workouts, a slight increase in their reserves may be observed over time. This tends to apply more to simple, physical abilities."

Jiho’s expression remained calm as always, but there was a noticeable attentiveness in his words.

"When it comes to mental or more complex abilities, it’s different. These types rely on abstract factors—emotional state, mental stability, inner motivation.

That’s why it’s nearly impossible to define a universal method. Each individual’s path is unique."

When Jiho finished speaking, a few seconds of silence followed. Then he bowed his head slightly.

"Sir, I’ll go speak with Nornara and her family now."

After finishing his sentence, he stepped back and headed for the door. Just before reaching for the handle, he paused and glanced over his shoulder at Ravien.

"It may take me a while to return, but I’ll update you on the situation as soon as possible," he said with his usual calm tone.

Then he opened the door and slipped out silently. The stillness he left behind thickened the air in the room once more.

-----

I leaned back in my chair, eyes narrowing as I sank into thought.

Jiho’s words kept circling in my mind.

Capacity... it varies from person to person, huh?

Then why did mine increase?

Was it when I created Juuhra?

Maybe... but no. A lot had already happened before that. Asogi, the parasites... I created them, too.

I pushed my capacity back then as well.

But I didn’t feel any noticeable change during those moments.

Could it be... that it only grows once it’s completely depleted?

But if that were true, wouldn’t everyone be pushing themselves to their limits?

Maybe... it’s related to that dream.

But... it was just a dream. Wasn’t it?

As my thoughts tangled with each other, something snapped in the heavy silence of the room.

Cold. Sharp. An eerie whisper echoed in my ears—alien, almost otherworldly:

"More."

I flinched, instinctively jumping up. My body twisted in one motion as I threw a punch behind me.

My fist struck nothing but air.

Silence settled once again.

The room was empty. No one was there.

I frowned, my breath shallow and fast.

"Am I hallucinating? Just now... I heard someone’s voice."

As if answering me, that same cold voice returned. This time clearer, deeper:

"Create more."

It dragged out like a low, guttural moan. The sentence was short, but disturbing.

It didn’t feel like someone else’s voice.

It felt like... it came from inside me.

And in that moment, I realized—

That voice wasn’t coming from the outside.

It was being born from somewhere within.

-----

Ravien stood still, as if a heavy weight had settled over his body.

What he’d just heard echoed in his mind like a lingering vibration—something too vivid to be dismissed as a delusion, yet too surreal to be entirely real.

His brows stayed furrowed as he scratched his ear absently, head tilted slightly.

The humming in his skull hadn’t stopped, but he couldn’t make sense of it.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered, his voice hushed.

There was no panic in his tone, but no calm either—only confusion.

"A hallucination? Or... did someone actually speak to me?"

He glanced around. Everything was the same—the room, the light, the silence.

But the air felt strange.

Heavy. Like the room had shrunk without warning, pressing in on him from all sides.

Then, on the surface of the desk, something rippled.

His gaze locked onto it. At first, it looked like a vague stain. Then it started to take form, expanding.

Shades of black deepened into a shapeless void.

A mouth.

It looked embedded in the desk itself. Soaked, glistening, pulsing like a living wound.

There were no lips—just a torn gash stretching between flesh and skin, opening on its own.

From within, a pair of bloodshot eyes burst forth. Then another pair.

They were randomly, grotesquely arranged.

And then—yellowed, rotting teeth began to emerge. Some were missing, some pierced through what looked like flesh, jutting outward grotesquely.

When the mouth opened, a sound came forth.

But it wasn’t a single voice.

Different tones layered over one another, competing and clashing, creating a cacophony.

Each voice was muffled, broken, distorted—falling apart in shattered syllables:

"Cre...ate...

...u...s...

CREATE...

Glo...

NuL...

...di...VINE...

Pl...ease...

TA...ke...

u...S...

wi...th...

yo...u..."

The words were forced out like they were fighting against something.

There was no rhythm. Some sentences were cut off, others only half-formed.

Each syllable came from a different mouth, some shrieking, others murmuring in deep, hollow growls.

Nothing was clear—but the intent was unmistakable.

Then came more voices—slower, fragmented, trembling:

"We...

wa...nt...

to...

se...rve...

yo...u..."

Ravien’s throat went dry. His legs felt heavy, but he didn’t take a single step back.

He just stood there, overwhelmed—caught between confusion, curiosity, and a deep, primal sense of danger.