After the final stab, Ong Ly collapsed to his knees. Yet a faint smile touched his lips, as if this was the moment he had long awaited. Tu Kha withdrew his artifact, silently watching the fallen body.
He closed his eyes briefly, invoking soul sight—a dim halo of light cloaked his eyes as images from a week ago surfaced. Through the mist of memory, Khanh was merely an ordinary youth, dragged from the streets of Floor 0 by Ong Ly, and had no place on the target list.
The glow faded. Tu Kha exhaled softly, but at once, another change began. From his cheekbones, faint wrinkles appeared; hair at his temples turned silver. His body sagged slightly, as if each use of his power traded away several years of his life.
"Just a passerby…" he murmured, before turning away, his cloaked figure melting into the darkness.
---
By now, Khanh had burst out of the Tuu Sac Lau. The door to Floor 0 swung open, and something struck him full in the face—light.
It was so bright his eyes felt as though pierced by needles. He raised his hand to shield his face, staggering a few steps, his mind reeling. Since living in the damp, sunless Floor 0, this was the first time he had seen the light of Floor 1.
The air outside rushed in—hot, dry, and searing. It felt as if a giant hand pressed fire against his skin; sweat instantly sprang forth. His heart pounded, his breathing quickened. His body, unaccustomed to the change, seemed to fall into heat shock.
The narrow, winding path led through the cramped alleys of Floor 0 toward the foot of the mountain. Each stride was a hammer-beat in his chest. Sweat poured down, soaking his clothes, his breath rasping through clenched teeth.
He tried to keep his spirit force hidden as Ong Ly had instructed, but his strength was draining, his will faltering. A moment's lapse—and his energy leaked into the air like tendrils of smoke.
A low growl echoed from afar. Then another. And more.
From the shadows of the alleys, shapes emerged- low-tier demons, hunched backs, long claws, eyes glowing like embers. Behind them came a few larger ones, with mottled gray skin - mid-tier demons. All drawn by the scent of Khanh's spirit force.
Khanh gritted his teeth and pushed harder. The pounding of demon feet, their shrieks, and roars blended into a nightmarish chase at his back. He hurled himself up the slope toward the mountain, branches whipping at his face, breath burning like torn lungs.
Night shrouded the mountain's flank. Only the frantic heartbeat and the pursuing steps filled the air. Each stride grew heavier, as though molten lead filled his calves. Sweat stung his eyes. He tried to clamp down on his spirit force, but his mind was hazy, his movements clumsy.
A blood-chilling roar erupted right beside his ear. Khanh tripped on a stone, crashing to the ground, hands trembling as he tried—and failed - to rise. He knew, in only seconds, claws would rip through his back.
---
Shhk!
From the mountainside, a figure flashed in. Steel glinted. The crack of shattering bones and the short, choked cries of demons vanished into the air in an instant.
Khanh blinked. Before him stood a girl, hair tied high, her eyes as cold as frost. In her hands spun a three-section staff, the moonlight flashing off it in silver arcs.
She said nothing. Her body moved like wind, but each strike landed with the weight of a hammer. The whhh, whhh of the staff blended with roars, which cut off abruptly as demons were hurled aside, bodies twisted before dissolving into black smoke.
The three linked rods of the staff trembled faintly. For a moment, Khanh felt as though some small portion of his strength had been drawn out of him - so subtle he could not pinpoint the cause.
In less than half a minute, over twenty demons lay still on the ground. Black smoke thinned, leaving the dirt smeared and the air tainted with the acrid stench of demon blood.
The girl retracted her staff, her eyes flicking toward Khanh once. No thanks, no introduction - only a strange, heavy silence.
Khanh, still gasping for air, felt as though he had just escaped the reaper's blade. In his mind remained only the image of the silver arcs dancing in the night.
She did not leave. The girl moved slowly among the demon corpses, her knees dipping slightly with each one she passed. The three-section staff brushed lightly against the dissipating smoke at their chests, as though confirming something. Each time, a faint thread of mist was drawn into the staff's body, making the metal gleam with a dim silver light.