The center of the Crimson Crater Lake exploded.
Millions of gallons of water were displaced instantly, creating a tsunami that radiated outward from the city center, smashing through the delicate white stone bridges and flooding the lower districts. But the water was the least of their worries.
Rising from the depths was a nightmare that eclipsed the sun.
Xotl burst from the underground spring system, his massive bulk tearing through the bedrock and the lakebed like wet paper. He didn't emerge as the humanoid avatar, nor the fragmented shadows. He rose as the Beast King—a mountain of writhing flesh and living shadow that towered over the palace spires.
His form was a kilometer high, a shifting mass of gnashing worms that cycled in and out of the shadow realm. The sheer displacement of his entry cracked the foundations of the stadium, sending tremors through the stands that knocked thousands of screaming spectators from their feet.
"I AM THE DARKNESS ," Xotl's voice wasn't a sound; it was a psychic shockwave that flattened Foundation Establishment cultivators where they stood.
Shadows spilled from his colossal form, turning the bright afternoon into an unnatural twilight. Where the shadow touched the pristine white stone of the Crimson City, the rock dissolved into nothingness, unmade by the Shadow Dao just as the Flaming Saber Sect had been.
On the arena floor, Long Chen stared up at the monstrosity, his dragon aura flickering like a candle in a hurricane.
"Nascent Soul," he whispered, the arrogance of the Dragon Empire prince vanishing instantly. "A mid level Nascent Soul beast."
Lia stood beside him, her legs trembling not from fear, but from the sheer spiritual pressure radiating from the giant. The shadow leech on her chest screamed in silent fury, pulsing with a heat that seared her skin.
"It's him," Lia gasped, clutching her staff. "The one from the east. The King."
Xotl ignored the ants beneath him. His countless eyes fixed on the royal palace, sensing the ancient ward that protected the King and Queen in seclusion. With a casual swipe of a claw the size of a city block, he smashed the central tower of the palace.
The protective formations flared and shattered in a shower of sparks.
Xotl's claw, a construct of shadow and flesh the size of a building, descended upon the central spire of the Crimson Palace. The impact should have reduced the white stone to dust. It should have ended the lineage of the Crimson Kings in a single, careless strike.
Instead, the world turned green.
BOOM.
A shockwave of pure, blinding vitality erupted from the ruins of the central tower. It wasn't the destructive fire of the Flaming Saber Sect, nor the crushing pressure of the Diamond Fist. It was a wave of absolute Life.
The energy expanded outward in a sphere of green light, smashing against Xotl's descending palm with an even greater force.
The Beast King roared—a sound that shattered windows across the entire city. His massive limb was thrown back, the shadows wreathing his arm sizzling and evaporating under the onslaught of the green light. Where the light touched his corrupted flesh, moss and vines instantly sprouted, growing wildly and tearing his shadow-form apart from the inside with aggressive overgrowth.
From the crater of the destroyed tower, two figures floated upward, bathed in a radiance that made it difficult to look directly at them.
King Aurelius III and Queen Isadora had emerged.
They did not look like warriors. They wore flowing robes of crimson and gold, and their skin possessed a translucent, jade-like quality. But the spiritual pressure radiating from them was suffocating.
"YOU DARE?" The King's voice wasn't loud, yet it resonated with fury.
Cultivation World - The Arena Floor
Xotl the faceless entity stood silent, a mannequin carved from the shadow, radiating a spiritual pressure that made the air taste like ash.
Lia stared at it, and for the first time in weeks, the fear that had driven her—the fear of the Corpse Cleansing Sect, of the Beast King, of losing herself—evaporated.
It was replaced by a white-hot fury.
She was done running. She was done hiding in holes while monsters tore her world apart. She thought of Ami bleeding out in the dirt. She thought of the Flaming Saber Sect reduced to shadows. She thought of the millions dying on Earth right now because powerful entities treated mortals like cattle.
On her chest, the shadow leech screamed in silent psychic resonance. It recognized its progenitor. It hated it with a hunger that eclipsed reason.
"Kill," Lia whispered, her voice overlapping with the alien hiss in her mind.
She raised her left hand. The shadow leech uncoiled from her chest, flowing down her arm like living oil. It encased her limb in a gauntlet of jet black flesh, the fingers elongating into wicked, serrated claws that dripped with hunger.
Lia slammed her staff into the floor with her right hand.
"Rise."
Water around her exploded upward. Ten massive serpents materialized, but they weren't the clear blue of her usual technique. Infused with the leech's overflow of shadow power and her own rage, they were streaked with veins of black ink.
She tensed her legs, channeling her massive Qi reserves into her muscles for an explosive launch. She was going to tear that thing apart, piece by piece.
BOOM.
Before Lia could move, a streak of azure light tore past her, moving so fast the wind of its passage nearly knocked her over.
Long Chen.
The Dragon Prince didn't hold back. He didn't test the waters. He hit the avatar with the force of a falling meteor.
"AZURE DRAGON TEARS THE HEAVENS!"
Long Chen was airborne, his body enveloped in a spectral dragon avatar three times the size of the one he had displayed during the entrance ceremony. His spear was gone, replaced by his bare hands which were wreathed in solidified blue scales.
He struck the Xotl avatar in the chest.
The impact sent a shockwave of water and Qi blasting outward, shattering the nearby spectator barriers.
The avatar was drove backward, its shadow-form rippling violently. For a split second, it looked like Long Chen had the upper hand. The prince was a level 7 Foundation Establishment prodigy with a bloodline that dwarfed others; his physical strength was monstrous.
But the avatar was a Golden Core entity. And it was made of the Beast King himself.
The avatar's feet didn't move. It simply stopped sliding.
Its faceless head tilted slightly.
Long Chen roared, driving his claws deeper, trying to rip the shadow-form asunder. Blue lightning crackled around him, scorching the air.
"Die, monster!"
The avatar's arm moved. It wasn't a punch; it was a lash. Its limb extended into a whip of solid shadow faster than sight.
CRACK.
It struck Long Chen in the ribs. The sound of breaking bones was audible even over the roar of the crowd.
Long Chen was swatted out of the air like a fly. He smashed into the flooded arena floor, skipping across the stone before crashing into a pile of rubble.
He scrambled up instantly, vomiting a mouthful of blood. His blue robes were shredded, revealing dragon-scale armor that was cracked and leaking Qi.
"Is that all?" Long Chen spat, his pride refusing to let him stay down. He gathered his Qi, the azure dragon aura flickering unsteadily. "I am the blood of the Dragon! I do not fall to shadows!"
The avatar didn't posture. It didn't taunt. It simply flowed forward.
It moved with a terrifying, jerky speed—glitching through the space between steps. It appeared in front of Long Chen instantly, its arm forming into a massive blade of black shadow and flesh.
Long Chen crossed his arms to block, his dragon scales glowing desperately.
The blow hammered him into the ground. The floor cracked. Long Chen groaned, his knees buckling under the immense weight of the Golden Core pressure. He was holding the blade back, but his arms were trembling, blood streaming from his nose.
He was going to die. He was strong, but he wasn't strong enough.
Lia didn't think. She didn't calculate.
She charged.
She didn't use the Void Strider steps—she didn't need finesse. She used the raw, explosive power of her monstrous qi.
She sprinted across the arena with terrifying speed.
"GET OFF HIM!"
Lia swung her staff with both hands, the movement amplified by the ten shadow-streaked serpents mimicking her motion.
The serpents slammed into the avatar's flank just as Lia's staff connected with its head.
The combined force of the blow knocked the avatar sideways, breaking its deadlock with Long Chen.
The creature stumbled, its form momentarily losing cohesion.
Lia skidded to a halt beside Long Chen, her shadow-clawed hand raised defensively.
Long Chen looked up at her, blood coating his teeth. He looked surprised, then angry, then begrudgingly impressed.
"I had that," he lied, wheezing.
"Shut up and fight," Lia snarled, her eyes fixed on the avatar as it righted itself. "Or we both die right here."
The avatar turned. Its faceless surface rippled, and suddenly, a mouth tore open—a jagged, white grin in the center of the black void.
Earth - Central Park
The air in Central Park didn't taste like ozone or city smog anymore; it tasted like copper and old blood.
Derek Morrison stood at the center of the Crimson Harvest Formation, bathed in a pillar of red light that screamed with the stolen vitality of a million souls. His skin was no longer pale; it was a deep, shifting crimson, his muscles bulging and tearing his clothes as his cultivation skyrocketed past Qi Refining Level 5.
"Come to feed me?" Derek laughed, the sound distorted by the sheer density of the death energy swirling around him.
Tim didn't waste breath on a witty retort. He couldn't. The spiritual pressure radiating from Derek was like standing in front of a blast furnace.
"Now!" Tim shouted.
He and Riku moved in perfect synchronization.
Tim launched himself forward, activating Soul Steps. His body flickered, jerking forward in three-centimeter bursts that bypassed momentum entirely. To Derek's eyes, Tim was glitching through reality.
Riku broke left, her hand diving into the waistband of her skirt. She pulled out the only weapon she had—a high-quality stainless steel kitchen knife she'd swiped from Tim's magnetic strip earlier that day.
It wasn't a spirit weapon. It wasn't a saber. But in her hand, infused with Varek's Dao of Cutting, it was the sharpest thing on Earth.
Derek swiped a clawed hand at Tim, a lazy, arrogant strike backed by the strength of a hydraulic press.
Tim Soul-Stepped backward instantly, the claw passing inches from his nose, the wind of its passage bruising his skin. He stepped forward again immediately, driving a Qi-enhanced fist into Derek's ribs.
THUD.
It felt like punching a concrete wall. Derek grunted, more annoyed than hurt, but the impact forced him to take a half-step back.
"Annoying fly," Derek growled, raising both hands to crush Tim.
SHING.
Riku arrived. She didn't slash; she severed.
Using Soul Steps on her arm alone, she thrust the kitchen knife with instantaneous speed. She saw the invisible line of separation on Derek's tricep—the Dao of Cutting guiding her aim.
The knife sank deep. Blood sprayed—not red, but glowing, viscous crimson.
"ARGH!" Derek howled, spinning around.
Riku was already gone, Soul-Stepping four centimeters back, then six centimeters left. She danced around him, a blur of oversized hoodie and flashing steel.
Cut. Step. Cut. Step.
She was carving him up. The kitchen knife, empowered by the Dao, sliced through Derek's Qi-reinforced skin as if it were butter.
"You little bitch!" Derek roared.
He ignored Tim, focusing his rage on the girl darting around his periphery. He unleashed a wave of red Qi, an undisciplined explosion of power.
Tim stepped into the blast, crossing his arms. Pumping as much qi into his arms as a shield. He was only Level 2, but his Qi was pure, unlike Derek's stolen, chaotic mess.
He tanked the blast, sliding backward, his shoes smoking.
"Riku, keep moving!" Tim yelled, his voice raw.
"I got him!" Riku shouted back, the adrenaline of Varek's combat instincts flooding her veins.
She saw an opening. Derek had overcommitted to the blast. His back was exposed.
She lunged, aiming for the kidney.
But Derek smiled. It was a wet, jagged tearing of his face.
"Gotcha."
Derek didn't turn around. He didn't need to. The blood spraying from his numerous wounds stopped falling. It hung in the air, then coalesced.
Behind his back, the floating blood formed into a massive, jagged greatsword.
It happened too fast. Riku was mid-lunge, committed to the strike. She saw the blood solidify. She felt the killing intent. But she couldn't stop her momentum.
The blood-blade swung backward in a vicious arc, aimed to cleave her in half.
"RIKU!"
Tim didn't think. He pushed his Soul Steps to the limit, projecting his soul forward as far as he could.
He appeared in front of Derek, throwing a desperate punch at the blood-blade.
CRACK.
The impact was devastating. Tim's Qi defense shattered instantly against the Level 5 power. The blow didn't cut him in half, but the flat of the blood-blade slammed into him with the force of a speeding truck.
Tim was launched through the air. He smashed into a park bench, splintering the wood, and tumbled across the grass, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
"Tim!" Riku screamed, her focus breaking.
She faltered, stumbling as she tried to run to him.
Derek turned slowly, the massive blood-sword hovering over his shoulder like a guardian demon.
"One down," Derek sneered, his eyes locking onto Riku. "Now... let's harvest that pretty little soul."
Riku scrambled backward, raising her kitchen knife with trembling hands. She was alone. Varek's confidence was flickering, drowned out by Riku's terror. She was facing a monster in a hoodie, armed with cutlery.
Derek raised a hand. The blood-sword floated higher, point aiming directly at her chest.
"Die."
The blade shot forward.
Time stopped.
Tim lay in the grass, his ribs shattered, his vision swimming. He saw the blade moving. He saw Riku freezing, her eyes wide with the realization of death.
He tried to Soul Step. Too far.
He tried to run. Legs won't work.
"NO!" Tim screamed, the sound tearing from his throat.
In the Cultivation World, standing in the arena, Lia screamed with him.
The resonance between them was absolute. The fear of losing Riku, the fear of dying, the desperate need to be there.
Lia felt something unlock. Not a technique she had learned from a manual. Not a power she had stolen from the leech.
It was a memory.
A void. Endless nothing. A little girl, no older than five, sitting alone in the nothingness. She wasn't scared. She was playing. She was reaching out with chubby hands, grabbing the nothing like a blanket.
A small memory of lia's was unlocked. What is this Tim thought. Tim felt the memory hit him like a lightning bolt. It wasn't his memory, but it was the original Lia's.
The distance between him and Riku wasn't meters. It was math. And math could be rewritten.
Tim stood up. He didn't use his muscles. He didn't use Qi.
He reached into the deep reserve of his soul, bypassing the Soul Qi Bridge, bypassing the Grounding Symbol. He tapped directly into the origin of Lia's existence.
His left eye—his human, brown eye—suddenly flared with a blinding, electric purple light.
VOID STRIDER: ORIGIN STEP.
He didn't project his soul. He didn't pull his body.
Tim stepped into the void.
He didn't blur. He didn't glitch. One moment he was by the bench. The next, he was standing directly in the path of the blood-sword.
He didn't have enough Qi to shield himself. He didn't have a weapon.
He had momentum.
Tim slammed his shoulder into Riku, shoving her violently to the side.
SHH-THUNK.
The blood-sword didn't hit Riku. It hit Tim.
It caught him across the ribs, slicing through his shirt and biting deep into his flesh. But that wasn't the worst of it.
The void rejected him.
Tim had forced a high-level spatial movement with a mortal body and barely any Qi to buffer the transition. Space snapped back like a rubber band.
Black lightning erupted across Tim's chest where he had torn through reality. It seared his skin, cauterizing the sword wound instantly but burning him with the cold fire of the vacuum.
"GRAAAH!"
Tim collapsed, blood and void-smoke rising from his body.
The blood-sword, disrupted by the spatial distortion of Tim's arrival, veered off course and smashed into the pavement, exploding into a puddle of gore.
Riku hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop. She looked up, dazed.
Tim was lying in front of her, groaning, his chest a mess of burns and blood. His left eye was still glowing with a fading purple light.
Derek stared, his mouth hanging open. "What... how did you..."
Tim coughed, pink froth bubbling on his lips. He looked at Riku, his eyes unfocused but smiling.
"This time..." he wheezed, blood staining his teeth. "...I rescue the girl."