Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate

Chapter 336: Stabilize

“Not happening.”

Dominic turned, sharp. “What?”

Kael’s tone didn’t shift. “He just awakened in the Cradle. You want to toss him through a teleportation gate with his core still in flux?”

“It’ll hold,” Dominic said, though there was a note of tension beneath the certainty.

Kael raised a brow. “That’s a gamble. And you don’t strike me as the gambling type.”

They stared at each other for a beat, neither flinching.

Then Kael gestured toward the far compound, where a low structure sat half-embedded into the slope—a recessed bunker with faint gold lighting at its edges.

“There are accommodations,” he said. “You’re staying. At least until his stabilizers settle.”

Dominic didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze shifted—not to Kael, but to Damien.

And Damien met it head-on.

No smirk. No bravado. Just clarity. He gave a single nod.

“…Fine,” he said. “We rest.”

Dominic exhaled quietly through his nose. A reluctant concession. Somewhere behind his eyes, you could almost see the gears grinding—calculating the likelihood of her hearing about this delay, of her taking it personally. Of Vivienne deciding to intervene.

But then again, what other option was there?

None that didn’t end with his son coughing up his soul halfway through a teleport.

“Tch,” Dominic muttered under his breath. “Let’s move.”

Kael didn’t gloat. He just pivoted and began walking. Damien followed. Dominic, silent again, brought up the rear.

The compound stretched wider than it first appeared. From the surface, it seemed minimalist—efficient and unadorned—but as they moved in, it opened into a sprawling, multi-level facility half-carved into the mountain slope. The outer shell served as a weather dome, but the interior buzzed with quiet industry.

Researchers and operatives moved along polished corridors, heads down, most dressed in modular armor or tech-stitched uniforms. Mana-screens floated near every junction, showing diagnostics, rotation schedules, projected leyline activity. It wasn’t chaos—it was flow. Every movement had purpose. A living machine.

One technician passed by with a glowing containment canister sealed in a magnetic field. Another directed a drone toward a mana-reactive filtration chamber. A pair of medics argued quietly over rune overlays for an Awakened triage pod.

All of it under the constant hum of energy, reinforced steel, and quiet, purposeful motion.

Damien watched it all with something that wasn’t quite awe—more like recognition.

This is what it looks like when people don’t waste time.

Eventually, they reached a restricted wing at the far end of the base. A subtle temperature shift crept in the moment the doors slid open—a crisp, clean coolness. Not cold. Just… calibrated.

The hallway ahead glowed faintly with blue-tinted lights set into the floor, while threads of golden rune-tracing crawled along the ceiling like circuitry. Every step forward seemed to ease pressure from the chest. Like the air itself had been filtered and infused.

Damien inhaled once—deep.

And let out a soft, thoughtful hum.

Kael, just ahead, caught the sound and smirked over his shoulder.

“You felt it?”

“…Yes,” Damien replied, voice quiet. Still watching the walls.

Kael nodded slightly, the satisfaction in his tone subtle but real.

“This section’s flooded with harmonized recovery mana. Same density we use in the stasis pods.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed slightly as he moved forward. He could feel it now—along his spine, in the pit of his lungs. That pulse. Not like pressure. Not like Resonation. Just… coherence. Everything syncing a little easier. His own mana core easing into rhythm.

He spoke again—more to himself than anyone else.

“This base is designed for extended exposure. For people working under constant strain.”

Kael glanced at him, a brow raised.

Damien nodded slowly. “This isn’t just for convenience. You’re treating your people like high-performance weapons.”

Kael’s smirk didn’t fade.

“Sharp eyes.”

They walked a little further.

Then he gestured toward a side door marked with dual-seal glyphs. “That one’s yours. Soundproof. Stabilizer grid active. Use it.”

Damien stepped up to the threshold, fingers brushing the edge of the doorframe. The mana here wasn’t just ambient—it welcomed him. Not in words. Not in intent. Just in the way it flowed.

Measured. Tuned. Waiting.

Kael lingered beside him, arms crossed.

“You’ll stabilize faster here,” he said. “The environment’s designed to keep core fluctuation in check. But the rhythm itself—” he tapped his temple once, “—that’s on you.”

Damien didn’t respond.

He knew what Kael was really saying.

They could help him.

More than just words. If Kael—or even Dominic—stepped in, they could guide the process directly. Sync their own mana threads to his and pull his core into harmony through pressure and flow. Quick. Efficient.

But wrong.

Kael didn’t offer. Neither did Dominic.

Because that kind of shortcut left a scar.

Awakened who leaned too heavily on others in their formative stages often never shook the dependency. Their control faltered under pressure. Their instincts warped. Their growth came crooked.

Dominic’s voice came from behind, quiet but firm. “Take your time.”

Damien turned his head slightly.

Dominic met his gaze. “I was planning for you to stabilize back at the estate. In our own sanctum. That’s why I pushed for immediate departure.”

A pause.

Then: “But Kael’s right. Your core’s still in flux. The longer you force motion over it, the more it’ll resist.”

Damien nodded once. A faint tension eased in his shoulders.

Kael added, “You’ve already done the hard part. This is maintenance. Syncing, breathing, holding still long enough to listen.”

Dominic stepped forward then, just slightly—close enough to be heard, but not intrude.

“Keep your spine straight,” he said. “Don’t fight the rhythm—just map it. When the pulse kicks, don’t suppress. Anchor. Let it hit, then spread it outward.”

Kael followed, tone dry but accurate: “If you feel like your bones are vibrating and your teeth are going to hum out of your skull, that’s normal. Just means your alignment’s kicking in.”

Damien glanced at both of them—quiet, steady.

Then he stepped forward.

The seal responded to his presence, soft blue runes flaring once as the door hissed open and folded away. Inside: a small chamber, spartan in layout. Just a mat in the center. Four stabilizer pylons at the corners. The air was cooler here—thicker with mana, but balanced. Not invasive.

His kind of silence.

Damien crossed the threshold.

The door slid closed behind him without a sound.

Alone now.

Damien stood in the center of the chamber.

No footsteps echoed. No sound rebounded. Just the slow, even rhythm of his breath and the low hum of the stabilizers at each corner—barely perceptible, like the whisper of something ancient humming beneath the surface of the world.

He inhaled again.

Let the mana-dense air pull into his lungs.

And exhaled through his nose, slow and full.

‘Finally.’

That thought came not with relief, but with weight. Like an exhale after holding your breath too long. Like returning to gravity after drifting weightless in something colder and less forgiving.

He sat.

Legs crossed, back straight. Palms resting on his knees, his spine a pillar. The way his father had taught him when he was barely tall enough to hold a stance for more than ten seconds without falling over.

This room…

It was better than any sanctuary he’d ever known. It wasn’t just peaceful—it cohered. The very mana around him wasn’t fighting to be dominant. It was present. Calibrated.

He let his thoughts settle.

When I woke up…

His mind drifted backward. Not far.

He had come back to this world with his chest heaving, body dripping with energy that wasn’t his—and yet was. That core he’d forged in the depths of the Cradle had begun syncing the moment he was conscious. His physical body wasn’t used to it. Not fully.

And it hadn’t been gentle.

Pressure in his ribs. A hum in his skull. Like two versions of himself trying to overlap—and failing to find the right angle.

And his father had been there.

Dominic.

Eyes sharp.

Shoulders stiff.

But that tension wasn’t about anger.

It was concern.

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