The air still felt heavy in Edil's lungs as he dragged himself through the burning pines of the Val estate. His shoulder throbbed from the cut, his robes torn and stained, but his mind burned hotter. He clutched the family amulet with white‑knuckled intensity, the metal biting into his palm, reminding him of every promise he had made and every lie that had been told.
Behind him, the forest loomed silent. There was no song of birds, no rustle of small creatures — only the echo of betrayal. The world he had known had cracked open, and in its place a deep fissure of vengeance yawned before him.
He paused atop a ridge where moonlight filtered through the branches, shimmering like ghost‑fire on the broken ground. For a moment he let himself breathe. He allowed the pain to wash over him. Then he stiffened — something stirred in the shadows.
A figure emerged: tall, hooded, carrying the mark of the crimson‑robed Maligalig House across his chest. The symbol of a blood‑tipped spear etched into a red banner. The man's eyes chilled as they fixed on Edil.
"So, the heir of Val hunts in the dark," the man said, voice low and mocking. "You think your little promise means anything now?"
Edil stood, his body stiff, his pain momentarily forgotten. "You took everything from me," he said. "My family, my honor. That will change."
The man sneered. "Honor? In our world you're already at the bottom. Weak. Unranked. Hear this: in the cultivation realm you've lost before you began." He paused, and flicked his hand. "Your alchemy? Barely apprentice grade. You might call yourself an alchemist of House Val but you're nothing. When I reached Alchemist Grade 2 (Apprentice II) you couldn't even wake the core. And my cultivation is at "Diwa Seedling Realm, Rank 4" — laughable you even face me."
Edil's heart hammered. He had heard of ranking systems in the cultivation world, how masters divided power by realm and rank: Qi‑Refinement, Foundation‑Establishment, Golden‑Core, Nascent‑Soul, and each stage with nine ranks. Reddit+3Immortal Mountain+3Light Novels AI+3 He knew he was unranked, raw—yet the fire inside him would not let him bow.
"You talk of ranks," Edil said, voice low and cold. "But I have something you don't — purpose."The man laughed. "We'll see how far that gets you." He rushed in, spear raised.
The fight began — Edil's first true battle after the fall of everything. The hooded man struck with measured speed, his spear tip humming in the air. Edil dodged, the world narrowing. He summoned what little he had — the alchemical runes etched in his memory, the faint spark of power from the elixir his father left behind. His body moved before his mind fully caught up.
With a cry, Edil drew a small vial from his belt — a concoction of Val‑family brew: "Spirit‑Dust Elixir." He shattered it on the ground. A pale blue mist rose, swirling around his feet, solidifying into a ring of crystallised energy around him. The hooded man's eyes widened.
"Beginner alchemy technique: Spirit‑Chain Trap (Alchemist Grade 2)" Edil's voice echoed even in his own ears, heavy with resolve. The mist solidified further, shackling the spear‑bearer's ankles. He tried to yank free but the chains held firm.
"Tch!" The man struck the ground, cracking the stone. "Low grade trick!" With a surge, he shattered the trap, rock fragments flying. He lunged, spear slicing the air.
Edil rolled aside and leapt, chanting under his breath: "Transmute the spirit of the mountain, bind the rage of the betrayed." His hand struck the ground and the earth cracked. A geyser of dust erupted, flinging the attacker backwards. The forest trembled.
"You show promise," the man admitted even as he staggered to his feet, "But you're still raw." He advanced, spear glowing red. "Without cultivation rank, you're a candle in a storm."
Edil gritted his teeth. His sense of honor, his furious promise flooded him. He lunged forward, channeling both his alchemical core and his budding spirit energy — a strange fusion only possible because of his dual training. The air around his fist glowed with golden light.
"Val Lineage — Alchemist & Cultivator!" he shouted. "Diwa Ascendant Strike!" His fist connected with the spear‑shaft, sending a shockwave through the man's body. The spear flew from his grip. He crashed to the ground.
Breathing heavily, Edil stood over the fallen figure. The hooded man spat blood. "You win this time," he coughed. "But I will remember."
Edil's chest heaved. He felt power, but it was raw, unrefined — and terrifying in its potential. He looked down at the man. "And you will regret this." He turned and walked away raw, wounded, but alive.
Later, as the moon dipped low, Edil returned to the Val ruins. His wound burned, but so did his spirit. He pressed the amulet to his chest and made a second vow: he would advance in cultivation, earn his ranking, and use both alchemy and cultivation to reclaim everything.
He whispered into the night: "I will reach Foundation‑Establishment Rank 1. I will forge my Golden‑Core. And when I'm at Nascent‑Soul, I will return and end this."
The stars watched silently. The mountain whispered back. Somewhere, in the distance, the first stone in his path was being laid.