The sky trembled.
The sound that echoed above was not a sound—it was a roar from the heart of existence itself.
The massive fist formed from savage intent was not just power; it was pure cosmic will shaped into destruction.
When it moved, the light shrank, and the earth separated from the sky.
Ashen stood in the center of ruin, staring at the fist that covered the heavens.
He felt it before he saw it.
It was as if the whole universe bent over him, as if every atom in his body knew that this moment… was the last.
"This… is the end," he whispered, his voice hoarse, filled with both certainty and despair.
That fist was not a mere strike; it was a final judgment.
Every living thing in the world felt fear from it—even the savage intent in the sky trembled before itself, as if it feared its own existence.
The fist began to descend.
Its slowness was not weakness, but a declaration that the end would come with quiet destruction, not reckless speed.
The air became so heavy that Ashen's chest stopped moving for a moment.
Each breath felt like swallowing a mountain of lead.
The blood in his veins boiled, his skin cracked, and his bones began to creak softly.
"All of this world... in that single blow," he murmured, lifting his head toward the sky.
His eyes shone with a wild, cold, and calm light at the same time.
He knew there was no escape.
But if this was his end... it would be an end that screamed.
He raised his hands slowly, blood dripping from them like a waterfall.
He summoned every last particle of energy in his body, and as his power gathered, the ground beneath him shook.
"The Great Shock!"
His scream pierced the heavens.
A wave of red energy burst forth, a flood of raw force.
It spread through the sky and collided with the massive fist.
The sound was not an impact, but shattering.
The dream broke before reality.
The Great Shock shattered like glass struck by a mountain.
Light scattered, energy vanished, leaving behind only ashes of pain.
There was no time to mourn its failure.
Ashen closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them — they burned like two embers of blood.
"Not yet..."
He activated everything he had:
The Rune of Blood Crocodile glowed across his skin, releasing waves of defensive energy.
His iron skin wrapped around him like armor, every cell screaming in defiance.
His five-star Blood Frenzy ignited inside his heart, raising his heat to the edge of madness, his body glowing from within.
But even then… the fist kept falling.
Closer. Heavier. Larger than anything a mind could imagine.
It felt as if the sky itself was pressing down on him.
Ashen roared at the top of his lungs and unleashed his secret art:
"Beast Ascension!"
His body exploded with blood and energy.
His limbs turned into claws, his skin became a hardened blood armor like rock,
and his aura transformed into a storm of pure savagery.
He was no longer human — he was a manifestation of blood and survival itself.
When he looked at the descending fist, there was no fear this time — only wild excitement.
But he knew… it was useless.
The strike fell.
There was no sound.
Sound could not describe what happened.
Everything broke — the earth, the arena, the mountains, the air, even light itself.
Existence vanished.
Ashen felt every part of his mighty body explode at once.
His armor shattered, blood evaporated, bones melted.
His final scream was a wave of pure agony, as if his very soul was disintegrating.
"Ha… so this is it…"
"I refuse this… my revenge isn't done."
"I refuse to let my clan's blood go to waste."
The last words came unconsciously, broken between breath and nothingness.
His body shattered, his particles dissolved into the blood-boiling air.
But what did not die… was his soul.
His consciousness began to collapse, darkness spreading at the edges,
until he saw… two massive eyes.
---
The Eyes of the Spirit Fetus
Those eyes were not outside his body — they were deep inside, within his spiritual fetus.
When they looked at him, they gleamed with explosive madness, and the world around him shook again.
From the eyes came threads of savage intent, thin as rays but carrying immeasurable power.
They pierced his soul, then seeped into his torn body, binding what remained and stitching his shattered form.
He felt pain again — the same pain he thought had ended.
His body was being rebuilt, then destroyed, then rebuilt again.
An endless cycle of destruction and repair.
Each repair made him stronger, and each collapse pushed him closer to madness.
He tried to whisper, but no sound came out.
The spiritual fetus did not stop.
The savage intent absorbed by the eyes began to run out.
The threads weakened, the light faded, the restoration slowed.
Even the pain — that cursed pain that became part of him — began to vanish.
And when the pain disappeared… Ashen knew he was nearing the true end.
---
At that moment, from the burning darkness inside his mind, he heard a voice.
It was not from outside or inside — it came from his very heart.
Calm, deep, but carrying a force that silenced existence itself.
"Ashen..."
He opened his awareness and saw the spiritual fetus before him, in a colorless void.
It was a small version of himself, with wide eyes shining with sacred, bloody madness.
"You have reached the end.
Your body is destroyed, your soul is fading, and we stand at the edge of nothing."
Ashen felt his soul tremble.
The words were not just sound — they were a declaration of birth.
The spiritual fetus… had gained its own awareness.
"What are you? Are you a separate will?"
"I am not separate, Ashen. I am you — your spirit, your blood, your tears, your will."
"I can save you.
But the fuel I need... is gone.
The savage intent I absorbed has run out. Only one choice remains."
It paused, then looked directly at him.
"Your memories."
Ashen froze.
"What?"
"Your memories — everything you were before entering this trial. Every face, every dream, everyone you lost, everyone you loved, everyone you wanted revenge on… everything.
If you give them to me, I will bring you back to life. But you will return empty, with no past, no self."
The voice was calm, emotionless, without pity.
It was not a request — it was a law.
"I am your extension, Ashen, but I was also born from the madness of savage intent. If you give me the memories, I will carry you out of this end.
If you refuse... we will sink, forever."
---
Ashen stood in the void, his soul peeling away like ashes in the wind.
The pain returned, but it was no longer physical.
It was the pain of hesitation, the pain of losing himself.
Before him, he saw everything he had lived through — the trial, the blood, the screams, every moment of suffering that taught him that survival demands madness.
Could he give all that up?
Could he exist again with no identity, no reason, no past?
He closed his eyes.
The world around him crumbled into red dust, and the spiritual fetus watched him in complete silence.
"If I do this… I will no longer be Ashen.
If I don't… I will no longer be anything."
His voice echoed through the void, a whisper between two dying stars.
The fetus said nothing.
It only reached out its small hand toward him, a silent invitation.
Ashen looked at it for a long time.
The choice weighed heavier than any battle he had ever fought.
Would he choose to live without memory… or die with meaning?
In the end, he breathed slowly and lifted his eyes toward the darkness.
He said nothing.
He didn't move.
The light in the empty world dimmed.
The savage intent faded.
And his final sound was not a promise or refusal — only silence, sharp and endless, between life and death.
Then, the voice of the Heavenly Dao echoed:
"When the heart wavers between extinction and rebirth, the true meaning of immortality is born."