2025-05-14 21:29:01Greg staggered back falling to one knee, his broadsword clattered to the ground as he let go of it, he ignored the pain from his throbbing leg. It was dark and neither could he see the pool of blood left by the gaping hole in his leg, his eyes were focused forward.
His hand tightly held the scroll he had been entrusted with, he was the last one who remained, they were a party of four sent out to report the rumors that had been heard around the borders of The Blackened Lands.
The team leader Scar, had given him the scroll, commanding him to deliver it to the clan while they held off the unknown, a creature of Chaos long thought to be banished to the depths of the underworld, his attention snapped back at a sudden movement.
He hadn't expected the attack, yet he couldn't have evaded it. He was certainly sure he didn't have long to live if he kept dawdling about, his eyes kept searching through the thick fog, and then he caught a sudden movement to his right.
He instinctively rolled over to his left, dodging a lethal attack. He looked back to the position he had been in prior to the attack and what he saw...
Perhaps he wasn't seeing well, he hoped he wasn't seeing clearly, the ground itself had melted, turning into a thicket of swirling mass, as though it had changed, transformed into something from the children's books that his Nan read to him decades ago.
Damnation!
He crept closer, his eyes were not deceiving him. Whatever swirling mass lay on the ground before him, looked like coagulated blood, changing its form, swirling, creeping, moving, searching for life it could latch itself onto.
He looked back at his leg, his chest tightening in horror at the sight, the flesh surrounding his wound had gotten thrice as big. He panicked, trying to stem the leg, cutting it off if need be. He reached out to his boot to draw his knife but stopped.
A sudden realization dawned on him, his eyes darted to the bubbling mass of Chaos beside him, then back to his gaping wound. He chuckled, understanding the severity of his situation.
Cutting off his leg wouldn't do, it had festered deep into his body.
He was losing blood at a rapid rate, the creature that attacked him did so with its blood, and now that blood ate away at his flesh. Struggling to control his breathing, Greg saw a silhouette slowly approach him.
"Who's there?" He shouted but was replied by the dominating silence of the forest.
"What are you?" He thundered, he knew he would not be answered, but hearing his voice helped him keep his sanity. Yes, he had to persevere.
"Were you sent by Scar?" Greg grunted in pain, raising his voice daringly, the silhouette stopped suddenly, then melted into the fog.
Greg squinted his eyes in an attempt to find the figure he had seen earlier, he was sure he had seen it, he wasn't running mad. He turned around, observing the environment, looking for a sign, any movement whatsoever.
A deathly grip held him from behind, it was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, it wasn't physical, his soul was being damaged, and he could feel it, the vice grip of death.
His eyes widened in horror, he struggled to turn around, but he couldn't move a muscle, he struggled for a few moments before gathering up his soul energy, he would suppress whatever it was with his soul power, after all, he was already at the expert level.
Gradually he could feel the grip lessen and drift away as if it was never there, Greg took deep breaths in quick succession, air had never felt so precious to him as it had in that moment.
"Damn it, what are you?" Greg coughed up blood, unknown to him the Fluxxara that had been whirling about on the ground before him, immediately reacted to his voice after coughing out a mouthful of blood, shooting towards his face at lightning speed.
Greg reacted a second too late, the Fluxxara latched itself onto his face immediately burrowing itself into Greg's eyes and mouth, Greg struggled and shouted, he ripped at the Fluxxara, throwing chunks of it away from his face but it persisted.
The Fluxxara found its way into Greg's body, as soon as it made contact with his innards and the blood of Greg, it began absorbing his life force at a blinding rate.
Greg shrieked in pain as he held his torso, trying his best to contain whatever was in him with his soul energy but it was useless, it kept on eating him from the inside.
Greg coughed out more blood and spat across the cold ground, his blood seemed unnatural to him, the taint of darkness mixed within it.
He felt the soul circuits in his body, trying his best to maintain control over his body but, he knew, it was already too late. His soul core was damaged, his tempered body had been ravaged inside out, his heart and lungs, intestines, liver. Everything was ravaged by the monster that devoured him.
He watched as his veins blackened, his palms grew grey, and he felt the last essence of his soul core diminish.
Greg used his last strength to tear off a chunk of his flesh with his teeth from his palm, then drew the symbol of his clan with his blackened blood, one last time he paid his respects to the clan, his spine bent at an odd angle, impossible for any human to achieve and snapped, immediately killing him as his eyes too blackened.
The possession was complete.
The corpse of Greg stood up with a devious smile etched upon its face, it staggered as though it wasn't used to its new body but it looked very satisfied, slowly it healed all its injuries returning back to Greg's natural state, the only difference was the low guttural sound
that came from it's throat, it was anything but human.
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Chapter 167. Ashborne Memory.
The days after the confrontation with the Judgers had left Kirin hollow. His body healed quickly, but his mind hadn’t. He found himself restless, unable to sit still, unable to sleep for long without snapping awake at the sound of his own breath. Every shadow in the Hollow Gate sect seemed sharper than before. Every passing glance felt like an accusation.He tried meditation, but his thoughts refused to quiet. He tried training, but the motions felt robotic, drained of spirit. He even tried forcing himself to eat, yet the food turned to ash in his mouth. Something inside him was fraying, tugging loose strand by strand.On the third night, when silence pressed down like a suffocating blanket, he decided he couldn’t remain inside his room. The walls felt too close, the air too stale. He needed space or maybe he just needed to move before his thoughts consumed him.So he slipped out.The Hollow Gate sect at night was eerily still. Moonlight bled across the tiled roofs, casting jagged sha
Chapter 164. The Eyes in the Mist.
The victory at the Sky Arena should have brought relief. It should have silenced the endless whispers that had followed Kirin since the day he stepped into Malakar. Instead, it did the opposite.Word spread like fire in dry grass. His name carried through the academy halls, spoken in awe and in envy. Students that once sneered at him now stared like he was something alien. Some wanted to challenge him, others wanted to stand behind him, and the rest simply waited and watched to see what he would become.But it wasn’t only humans watching.It started the morning after his victory.Kirin woke earlier than Aza and Shen, stepping out into the courtyard while the sun was still fighting against the fog. The mist that morning was unusually heavy, rolling in thick waves over the training grounds, coiling around the academy’s walls like a living thing.At first, he thought it was only the lingering exhaustion playing tricks on him. But then he saw them.They were like shadows in the fog.Figur
Chapter 163. The Sky Arena.
The burial was supposed to settle things. A cultivator dead, covered under stone and silence. But instead of calming the whispers, the academy only grew louder.The new transfers had stolen attention, Aza with her quick tongue and sharper mouth, Shen with his cold precision, and Kirin, the quiet shadow that nobody quite understood. They didn’t fit into the academy’s fragile order. They weren’t bred nobles or trained elites. They were outsiders and outsiders had a way of disturbing the peace.Vael knew it. He could feel it like a sickness spreading. Rumors turned to suspicion, suspicion turned to paranoia. The burial hadn’t been the end of unrest, it had been the spark. And so, he made the choice he always made when the academy threatened to unravel, he threw the weak into the fire and let the flames show who deserved to survive.That was the purpose of the Sky Arena.The arena was a monster of stone and air. Suspended high above the academy grounds, a floating circle of platforms conn
Chapter 162. Blood on the Leaves.
The sect was restless that morning.The whispering root was a tree that every disciple knew, even if they had never approached it. It stood at the far eastern end of the sect grounds, its bark black as burned wood, its branches stretched like a hundred grasping arms. The tree swayed when no wind touched it, whispering to itself with a voice no one understood. Old tales said it was older than the sect, older than Malakar itself, a fragment of something left behind from another world. Most disciples avoided it, afraid of how its leaves shivered like teeth.But this morning, the tree had company.A body.A junior disciple had screamed, her voice sharp enough to bring half the east wing running. By the time Vael arrived, with several cloaked enforcers behind him, the crowd had gathered in a tight ring, everyone whispering, craning their necks.The dead man lay flat on the roots, his face pale and his eyes open, staring blankly at the canopy above. His robes were neat, his hands folded by
Chapter 161. Shen’s Hobby.
Kirin’s mind was still burning with Vael’s words.Higher powers are watching you, he said.The thought felt like a brand carved into his skull. He had lived his entire life resisting chains, yet here he was, walking right into another cage, this time built not of iron bars but of suspicion. Vael had spoken with a calm warning, but underneath it, Kirin had heard the truth: they would not hesitate to erase him if he became a threat.And the worst part? They were right to be afraid.That vision of himself in full chaos, brimming with power that he could not recognise still lived in his chest like a restless animal. Sometimes, when he channelled his qi in training, he could almost feel that future self staring back at him. Was that what he was destined to become? And if it was, would there be anything of himself left?The prison memories came back. The chains. The endless humiliation. The screams in the dark. The laughter of demons who thought they had broken him.The thought of surrender
Chapter 160. Vael’s Warning.
The days rolled by in the underworld prison like a river of ash, slow, heavy, and suffocating. Kirin had almost lost count of how long it had been since he had glimpsed that fractured reality, that vision of Malakar torn apart by war. Every time he closed his eyes, the images crept back, fire raining from skies, twisted armies rising, and a darkness that seemed to consume even the strongest of warriors.It was the kind of sight that left a man restless. He trained harder now, sharper, as if the only way to push down the anxiety clawing at his chest was to let his body move until it could move no more. But no matter how many times he unleashed his qi into strikes, no matter how many times he tried to carve stability out of chaos, the weight in his heart never really left.He thought he was hiding it well. But of course, Vael noticed.Late one night, Kirin was summoned. A messenger came, one of those silent shadows who never spoke, only bowed and gestured. He led Kirin through the twist
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