The red star hung high, a silent sentinel over the fractured lands. Its glow seeped into the earth, coloring the ruins in hues of blood and fire. Jinryu's Core still throbbed beneath his ribs, every pulse a reminder that the power within him was no longer dormant.
He had survived the hunters of Ember cliff, but the warnings of the blind seer echoed in his mind: "Power without understanding is a blade that cuts the wielder first." The visions of the Tower's fall haunted him still—faces twisted in agony, screams trapped in stone, the very earth scorched by ambition.
As he traveled through the wasteland, a new presence emerged on the horizon. Black banners fluttered atop jagged cliffs, embroidered with a crimson sigil—two intertwining serpents beneath a blood-red star. The Crimson Sect, a faction whispered about in half-forgotten legends, had awakened. Masters of forbidden techniques and bearers of corrupted Mythic Cores, they had survived the Tower's collapse in secret, growing in strength while the world believed them destroyed.
Jinryu's heart sank. The Core within him reacted violently, sensing their presence. These were no ordinary warriors. Their energy was chaotic, yet disciplined—a perfect mirror of the Tower's legacy, twisted into something dark.
Before he could approach, the air shimmered. Figures emerged from the shadows: a pair of elite Crimson Sect disciples. Their eyes glowed with a fierce, unnatural light, and weapons forged from the fragments of fallen gods radiated lethal energy.
"You carry the Core of Babel," one hissed, voice like a blade scraping stone. "The Tower's blood calls to you, boy. But that power belongs to us now."
Jinryu's grip tightened on his cursed blade. Every instinct screamed to flee, yet he could not. The Core thrummed within him, a heartbeat of the world's remnants. He had come too far, endured too much, to surrender to fear.
The first strike came like a flash of lightning. Jinryu moved instinctively, the cursed blade slicing through the air, clashing against the sect's divine-infused weapon. Sparks of energy erupted, illuminating the wasteland in violent red and gold.
As the battle raged, Jinryu realized something terrifying: the Crimson Sect was not merely after his Core—they sought to awaken the red star itself, using its energy to reshape the world under their dominion. If they succeeded, every Mythic Core, every surviving martial artist, and perhaps even the remnants of the old gods would fall under their rule.
The Core within Jinryu pulsed with a newfound clarity. This was not just a fight for survival—it was a war for the fate of the martial world. And the red star, now brighter than ever, watched silently from above, waiting for the outcome.
Jinryu's eyes narrowed. The Crimson Sect may have thought him a mere boy with a sealed Core, but he had already glimpsed the power and truth of the Tower. And now… he would make them understand the cost of underestimating him.