Secret World of Occultists-Chapter 36: Fate and Fortune

"It is an unseen living force present in all living beings," Honoria continued while nodding her head.

"Ordinary people are unaware of the existence of such a mystical power within them. It leaks out from them throughout thier lives in very minuscule amounts. Of course, this leakage is harmless to them."

"Every person in this world has it?!" Abel was stunned. He thought that only a very select few possessed this power.

"Not just every person," The old woman smiled. "But every animal and plant too possesses spirit energy. If it is a living being, they will possess this power."

"Then why doesn't everyone have access to channeling their spirit energy and becoming Occultists?" Abel couldn't help but ask out of curiosity.

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Honoria smiled bitterly, "Patience, dear boy. I promise to teach you everything, but you must first learn to walk before you can run."

Abel nodded in understanding. "Apologies, Madam Whitmore. Please continue."

The old woman took another puff from the pipe before continuing where she left off, "First and foremost, one must possess a requisite measure of spirit energy before they may hope to become an Occultist.

"Consider, if you will, that most individuals can manage simple mathematics, addition and subtraction are within the grasp of many, but does that make one fit to become an accountant or a banker?

"Likewise, nearly everyone may run or leap, yet how many among them could claim the prowess of a true athlete?"

Seeing the youth's incredulous expression, Honoria let out a light chuckle.

"Consider it thus, should a person with the most meager reserves of spirit energy somehow become an Occultist, they would find themself woefully incapable of performing the majority of supernatural feats. Now tell me, why do you suppose that is?"

"Is it because spirit energy serves as the fuel to manifest such supernatural feats?" Abel ventured a guess.

"Precisely." Honoria Whitmore nodded with a faint smile. "The possession of ample spirit energy is the foremost hurdle one must surmount before becoming an Occultist."

She paused for a moment before adding, "That is not to say one cannot become an Occultist should their reserves be meager. As I have said, every being possesses spirit energy in some measure, and thus, the potential to awaken remains within them."

Abel muttered with a serious expression, "Okay, understood!"

He then asked the question that had been on his mind for a long time now, "And how does one awaken their spirit energy? Apart from the 'old method' that I used."

"Through a meticulously devised ritual art, honed and perfected over generations of Occultists," the elderly lady explained. "It is by means of this sacred rite that one's seat of the soul—the pineal gland—is stimulated, allowing them to awaken their spirit energy."

"... I see." Abel felt a bitter taste in his mouth. "And I presume this method is far safer than the old one?"

"But of course," Honoria stated matter-of-factly. "Firstly, one who awakens their spirit energy through the ritual need not endure the dreadful peril of a near-death experience to do so.

"Secondly, the symptoms following the awakening are relatively less severe than those suffered by one who has undergone the old method. Now tell me, how weary did you feel after waking, despite having slept for more than half the day?

"How often did you find yourself plagued by hallucinations? How frequently did you hear those peculiar voices whispering in your mind? And tell me, how near were you to losing yourself entirely, teetering on the very edge of madness?"

Hearing the old lady repeat the things that he had gone through, Abel's body involuntarily shuddered. Only he knew how much he had to go through, both physically and mentally, in the week following his transmigration.

Honoria Whitmore continued, "With the aid of the ritual, such afflictions are greatly diminished, granting the individual a far more stable state mind and sound constitution before they dare to enter the Spirit Crucible."

She paused for a few moments, allowing the blue-eyed youth to digest this newfound information. "Lastly, and most importantly, the ritual grants one the opportunity to make the necessary preparations before undertaking their First Trial of Ascension."

Thinking back to how he was able to survive the gruesome ordeal of transmigration, having a near-death experience, and surviving the First Trial with hardly any preparations, Abel thought of the cursed coin.

His heart was churning with tumultous waves and he whispered, "Could it be... that I really got lucky?"

"Oh, my dear boy," Honoria sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Mr. Kensignton was right. You severely underestimate your capabilities. Even one blessed with immense fortune will fail if he does not seize the opportunities laid before him.

"Likewise, even one cursed with misfortune may yet emerge victorious, should he recognize his chance and play his cards well. Luck is an elusive concept, Abel. We Occultists have only our actions to rely upon."

Abel's expression froze when he heard Honoria say those words.

She's... right, he thought.

Why am I under the impression that I managed to survive until now because of the coin?

That night, If I hadn't decided to make my way out of the alley, would I have met Henry and his grandfather? No!

In the days following my transmigration, had I not chosen to trust Henry, would I have gotten to know the basic information to enter the Crucible? No!

During my First Trial, had I not relied on my instincts and decided to firmly act on my choices, would I have defeated the nameless monster? No!

Would I have managed to save the little girl and truly complete my objective? No!

He gazed at the old lady and nodded with a faint smile, "You're right, Madam Whitmore. I, uh... It's just that... I think I lack self-confidence..."

Honoria Whitmore's gaze softened at those words and she spoke gently, "Tell me, do you know that in ancient times, before the advent of the ritual arts to aid in awakening, only the greatest of men, those who possessed the strongest of willpower, could hope to become Occultists?"

"Really?" Abel asked meekly. He couldn't see himself as one of those men if he was being honest with himself.

"Indeed." The old woman nodded. "Those who awakened through the old way had nine-in-ten chances of perishing. And yet, through unwavering courage and willpower, they stood before death itself and emerged victorious. Only they were truly worthy of the title of Occultists!"

Abel felt goosebumps all over his skin. He didn't know if the old woman was glorifying the achievements of ancient Occultists, but he certainly felt some pride swell in his heart.

Honoria continued with the same gentle smile, "For an Occultist, neither birth nor wealth holds any true significance. No, what matters is the strength of one's will and the depth of one's understanding.

"The spirit energy within you does not bow to gold, nor does it yield to noble birth. It answers only those with the resolve to wield it and the wisdom to command it.

"A beggar with an unshakeable will may rise to greatness, while a king who doubts himself may struggle in mediocrity. If you wish to tread the path of the occult, Abel, you must cast aside all notions of fate and fortune."

She paused for a moment, her expression turning solemn. "You are not here becaue of mere luck, you are here because you have the potential for greatness just as the Occultists of old once did."

Honoria Whitmore pointed her finger at him, her lips forming a faint smirk.

"The question is, my dear boy... do you have the courage to claim it?"