For a moment, no one moved.

No one could.

All eyes were fixed on the boy who should've been dead.

Aaryan's body twitched as it pushed itself upright. Bone by bone. Inch by inch. Each motion scraped against nature's laws.

His arms dangled, broken. Ribs shifted beneath torn flesh. And still—he stood.

The bones snapped back into place with wet, splintering cracks.

His skin, flayed in places, began to mend—only to rupture again as if rejecting the healing, painting him in fresh streaks of red. The cycle repeated—mending, tearing, mending again—as if life itself rejected him. It was a miserable sight.

And somehow, far more terrifying than anything they'd seen today.

The elders gasped.

"Impossible..." Elder Jun murmured, stepping back unconsciously. "That's not... that's not human."

Another roar erupted from Aaryan's chest.

More visceral. More primal. More defiant. The very air around him seemed to tremble.

And then—something broke.

Just for a flicker, black tendrils of aura coiled around Aaryan's form like mist seeking flesh. They danced over his arms, across his back, rising upward like smoke from a battlefield long abandoned by gods.

And behind him—

A shadow.

Huge. Monstrous. Winged.

Twelve wings.

It flashed into existence—impossible to define. Like something glimpsed in a nightmare, blurred by instinct, unseen by the eye but felt by every cell in the body.

Only three people saw it—The elders.

And the man inside the tomb.

The elders recoiled, stunned.

The man, still sitting in the darkness within the tomb's depths, narrowed his eyes.

The world reacted.

Winds howled from nowhere, screaming down the mountain's peak. The earth cracked beneath Aaryan's feet like it resented bearing his weight. For a breathless second, even the sky dimmed—clouds roiling as if shielding the heavens from what had awoken.

And Aaryan's eyes—They turned black.

Not merely darkened.

Black. Total. Void.

Looking into them felt like falling—endlessly—into an abyss that had no bottom. A scream trapped in eternal silence.

The kind of gaze that stripped memory, as if hope had never existed.

The elders staggered.

"What was that?" Elder Ma rasped, one hand clutching his chest. "That shadow... That aura..."

All around Aaryan, disciples trembled.

Not just from fear, but from something deeper.

The Qi in their bodies turned sluggish, as though it, too, knelt before whatever now lived inside that boy.

Breathing became harder. Backs bent, knees buckled, spirits broke under the oppressive pressure.

One of the weaker disciples screamed.

Blood burst from his eyes, ears, nose, mouth. He spun and ran—not toward safety, but away from Aaryan.

It was like a dam broke.

Dozens, then hundreds—from rogue wanderers to sect elites—fled the mountain like it had become cursed. A battlefield of cowards and the damned.

Starfall Valley. Crimson Serpent Hall. Cloud Pillar Sect.

They shoved each other aside, fell, screamed, scrambled down toward the base of the mountain like prey running from a predator they couldn't comprehend.

Inside the tomb, the man remained silent for a time.

Then, quietly— "...To think even I'd feel oppressed by this aura," he muttered. "What was that?"

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The lonely cliff on that mountain peak was empty.

What had once been colosseum with hundreds of disciples was now a graveyard of silence—nothing left but broken rocks, scattered splinters, and bloodstains. Only four remained.

Aaryan.

Elder Ma.

Elder Jun.

And the man in the tomb, watching in silence.

Aaryan stood still. His skin barely held together, his body soaked in blood—his own.

With every slow step, crimson dripped from his heels, leaving a trail like a butcher's path.

His gaze fell upon the two elders.

Blank.

Emotionless.

Except for one thing: disdain.

Not rage. Not hatred. Just the cold, distant contempt of something superior—divine—regarding two insignificant insects that had dared to touch it.

Elder Jun took a shaky step back. Elder Ma flinched.

"W-We were wrong, let us go, please—" Ma stammered.

"You're not in your right mind, Aaryan. This… this isn't you!" Jun added, voice rising in desperation.

Then came the threats.

"You touch a sect elder, and you'll be hunted. My Crimson Serpent Hall will erase you!"

"Submit! Submit now and we'll speak for you!"

And then, back to begging.

But dignity was already long dead.

Aaryan said nothing. His aura did all the speaking.

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He was still in the third stage of Qi Condensation. But at that moment, his presence towered. Tyrannical. Heavy. Absolute. A pressure that left no room for resistance.

Then—he vanished.

And reappeared.

Right in front of Elder Ma.

There was no build up. No flash. No scream of force. Just stillness and then—movement.

A single palm swept out.

No speed.

No power.

Only dominance.

A gesture, not a strike.

CRACK.

The sound echoed across the mountaintop like a whip crack against the heavens.

Elder Ma spun midair, her body ragdolling before crashing into a boulder with such force that it shattered to dust. She slumped forward, coughing blood, teeth scattering in the rubble like broken pearls.

Aaryan didn't even watch.

He turned to Elder Jun.

Jun, trembling, raised his arms to strike. He screamed as his fire-based Qi exploded to life, launching attack after attack—blazing fists, flame serpents, anything and everything.

They landed.

They burned.

But Aaryan didn't flinch.

He walked through those attacks as if they were mist.

Jun's hand reared back for one final blow—

Aaryan caught it.

There was no ceremony, no flourish. He simply squeezed.

Crunch.

The bones inside snapped like twigs underfoot. Jun howled, dropping to a knee—but Aaryan wasn't done.

His other hand shot out, seizing Jun's second wrist.

Crunch.

The second arm folded unnaturally, bones mangled beyond recognition.

Jun screamed, his voice breaking into wet sobs.

"Aaryan! Stop! We—we can make this right!"

Aaryan's face didn't change. He didn't even blink.

The expression was no longer his.

The boy was gone. What stood now wore his face, but it wasn't him anymore.

Something else remained in his shell.

Aaryan stepped behind Jun and grabbed his leg.

Crack.

Then the other.

Snap.

Crack. Then the other. Snap. And so on.

Jun collapsed, gasping in the dirt, his limbs reduced to pulp inside torn skin.

He didn't get long.

Aaryan lifted him by his remaining functional joint—his neck—and stared into his eyes.

Jun whimpered, bloody teeth chattering. "Wait—please—Aaryan, please—whatever it is you want—"

A fist slammed forward.

A sickening pop as the elder's skull gave way—blood and bone exploding in a red bloom. Aaryan let go. The body dropped in a heap, twitching once, then still.

As Aaryan was about to turn, something tore through the air hitting him in the back.

Shhk.

A glint of azure burst through his chest.

A spearhead, jagged and shimmering with condensed water Qi, jutted out from between his ribs.

Aaryan looked down.

More blood poured.

Slowly, he turned.

Behind him, Elder Ma stood panting, still in the position of making hand seals. Her face was pale. Her robe clung to her from sweat and blood. She was shaking—more from fear than effort.

She regretted it the moment his gaze landed on her.

She took a step back. "N-No... No, don't…"

She cursed herself for not fleeing when she had the chance. But she'd panicked. She'd used her ultimate technique—Azure Fang Spear. A technique drawn with essence blood, meant only for life-or-death. She had hoped it would end him.

It hadn't.

Aaryan took a step forward.

Then another.

Ma's mouth opened to scream another technique into life, to push out one last suicidal attack.

Her hands formed the seal again—

But before the next spear could leave her fingertips, Aaryan collapsed.

Face-first.

The cliff was silent again.

Only the wind answered, carrying away the last echoes of Elder Jun's screams and the dull clang of Aaryan's body hitting stone.

Elder Ma stood frozen, chest heaving.

As Aaryan lay face-first on the blood-soaked stone, still as death. The glow that had cloaked him—the tyrannical, ancient pressure—was gone. No flicker of Qi remained. Just a broken boy in a pool of red.

Ma blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then it hit her.

He was down.

And she started laughing.

A high, cracked sound tore from her throat and echoed through the dead wind like glass grinding against stone.

"Heh… haha… HAAHAHAHAA!" She clutched her ribs as her laughter turned manic. "You thought you were some god?! You— you brat! You thought you could kill us and walk away?!"

She stumbled closer, every word dripping with venom and giddy disbelief. "You monster! You ruined everything! You think just 'cause you scared a few disciples you're immortal now?!"

The only witnesses were an unconscious boy drowning in his own blood—and the corpses of Elder Jun and Elder Kezan, staring skyward in silence.

"I'll have them carve your name out of your sect's records. I'll tell them you begged me before you died. I'll mount your skull at the Starfall Valley's gates and let the dogs gnaw on your bones!"

Her steps grew slower as she neared him, expression shifting into one of twisted triumph.

"I'll make sure your soul suffers. I'll—"

Shhk.

She froze.

Something was wrong.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her body refused to breathe.

Then she looked down.

A fist.

Bloody. Burned. Shaking.

His fist was buried in her abdomen—up to the forearm. Her own blood now poured freely, joining his on the stone

She stared.

Aaryan stood before her, barely upright, face smeared with mud and gore, using the oldest trick in the book. But something had changed. The madness was gone from his eyes. Where once swirled shadow and fury, now rested cold, familiar blue.

Elder Ma tried to say something. Maybe a curse. Maybe a plea.

Nothing came.

Aaryan twisted his wrist slightly—just enough to shatter her spine—and pulled his hand free.

She crumpled to the ground without a sound.

He looked at her for a breath… then another…

And collapsed right after.

This time, he didn't get up.

The ground was cold. That was his first observation. Then came the pain.

'Oh gods, the pain.'

Aaryan would've screamed if he could move. But his body refused him even that.

Almost every major bone had a hairline fracture. Several were flat-out shattered. Most of his blood had spilled out long ago—enough to paint a mural across the entire cliff. His muscles felt like boiled leather, and all the Qi that had surged through him like a wild bull… was gone. The tyrannical force that had supported him—whatever that had been—had faded as well, and with it went the unnatural healing it provided.

His meridians? It felt like someone had shoved glass into his veins and stirred—then set the pot on fire.

Lying flat, he blinked once.

"Well… sh*t," he muttered hoarsely, voice no more than a rasp.

He tried to lift a finger.

Nope.

Nothing.

"I just wanted to loot some scrolls," he rasped. "Flirt with a mysterious girl. Strike a pose. Make a little money. You know… hero sh*t."

A wheeze passed his lips. He wasn't sure if it was a laugh or a sob.

"Now look at me. Killed three elders, broke my body, shattered my meridians, and I think… I may have soiled myself."

Silence.

Wind rustled the ruined cliffs.

"…Fantastic."

He stared up at the sky—or what little of it he could see through one barely-open eye.

"I don't want to die, dammit," he said quietly. "I'm not ready. I haven't even practiced those awesome techniques. Haven't even found out what the deal is with that guy in the tomb. Haven't even—ugh—kissed anyone properly."

His voice broke.

"Come on. One more miracle? Anyone?"

Nothing.

A bird screeched in the distance.

"Alright," he sighed. "Guess I'll just lie here and—bleed attractively."

Still unmoving, still broken, Aaryan closed his eyes.

But inside him, a faint warmth stirred. Flickering. Like an ember crushed beneath ruin. Refusing, stubbornly, to die.

He didn't notice it.

Not yet.

But someone—was hurrying towards him like there was no tomorrow.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The air around the tomb shimmered—first like heat rising from stone, then like ripples on a disturbed pond. The very fabric of the tomb began to waver. Pillars faded at the edges. Statues blurred. The stone carvings etched into the massive doors seemed to breathe, then stretch into nothingness.

Deep within the fading sanctum, the man let out a long, tired sigh.

"So close."

For countless generations, the tomb had come and gone, appearing like a phantom across continents—testing, weighing, discarding. But this was the first time he'd wanted it to stay. To save him. The boy was unlike the others—yet so much like his brother.

And yet—he was powerless.

The tomb began to dissolve fully now. Light poured in through its ancient cracks. The illusion of eternal stone peeled away like fog beneath the sun. In seconds, it would vanish again—reappearing a few hundred years from now in some other forgotten part of the world. A cycle that neither the man nor the world could break.

Just as the last of the tomb's illusion began to dissipate, something strange happened.

The space around Aaryan flickered—as if trying to sever itself entirely from the rest of reality.

As if a smooth wall of nothingness appeared between the boy and the collapsing tomb, like reality itself had blinked, and left the boy behind. The man inside frowned. The ancient murals on the wall, which had moments ago shown the outside world, shimmered… and turned to lifeless, dull stone.

He blinked. He couldn't see Aaryan anymore.

"...What?"

He tried to peer further, but even his perception—bound to the laws of the tomb—couldn't penetrate the veil.

The man stood still for a breath… then muttered quietly, "I hope you survive, kid."

And with that final whisper, the tomb vanished.

Not with a roar. Not with a blaze of light.

It simply blinked out of existence—gone like a dream upon waking.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

A few breaths passed in silence.

Then the wind stilled.

The space above Aaryan quivered—and from the empty air, a man appeared.

Not walked.

Appeared.

As if the world had remembered him all at once and snapped him into place.

He stood tall, clothed in dark robes. A hood masked most of his face, but his body—once still as steel—shook the moment he laid eyes on Aaryan.

And when he took a step closer, the mask of composure shattered.

"No…" he whispered.

He fell to his knees beside the boy, trembling hands reaching out.

His fingers brushed against Aaryan's blood-crusted face. Cold. Too cold.

"Y-Young master…" His voice cracked like dry wood. "After searching for over 800 years, your servant is finally here…"

He swallowed, but the lump in his throat didn't move. His shoulders quaked under invisible weight.

A sudden gust swept through the clearing, tearing away his hood in one clean motion.

Beneath it—his face.

Sharp lines carved by years of guilt. Eyes once calm, now storming with vengeance.

It was Sampoorna.

The blade that vanished hundreds of years ago.

A ghost, now kneeling beside his young master.

And from the trembling corners of his lips, only one vow remained:

"Those who did this to you… They will all die"

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