Location:Condemned Construction Site – Basement Level
Time:11:15 AM
The basement of the unfinished skyscraper was a graveyard of concrete and rusted rebar. Water dripped from the ceiling, pooling in stagnant black puddles. It was dark, silent, and smelled of wet dust.
"Where is it?" the leader of the Iron Tusks, a man named Krav, demanded. He kicked a piece of debris, his patience wearing thin. "Where's the Goblin?"
Jacob stood in the shadows near a structural pillar. He had led them deep into the structure, away from the street, away from witnesses.
"It's here," Jacob whispered.
He wasn't looking for a Goblin. He was looking at Krav's neck. The jugular vein pulsed rhythmically. To Asura, it looked like a glowing target.
Analysis, the Sovereign's mind ran the calculations instantly.
Target 1 (Krav): Level 6. Weapon: Brass Knuckles. Threat: Moderate.
Target 2 (Skinny): Level 4. Weapon: Dagger. Threat: Low.
Target 3 (Fat): Level 4. Weapon: Baseball Bat. Threat: Low.
My Stats: Strength 4. Agility 5.
Strategy: Isolate Krav. Shatter his windpipe with a precision strike. Use his body as a shield against the other two. Eliminate.
It was a plan he had executed a thousand times against Heavenly Generals. It was perfect.
"Stop stalling," Krav growled, turning around to grab Jacob's collar. "If there's no Goblin, I'm going to—"
NOW.
Jacob didn't wait. As Krav reached out, Jacob moved.
He stepped inside Krav's guard. It was a movement of sublime technique—the Ghost Step. In his past life, this step allowed him to phase through armies.
He aimed a knife-hand strike directly at Krav's throat.
Die.
His fingers, stiffened into a spear, struck Krav's windpipe.
THUD.
It sounded like slapping a wet sack of flour.
Krav didn't choke. He didn't collapse. He just blinked, looking down at Jacob's hand pressing against his thick, muscular neck.
Jacob froze. His eyes widened in genuine shock.
What?
He had hit the pressure point perfectly. But... there was no force behind it. His fingers were weak. His wrist was fragile. The "spear hand" that should have pierced flesh merely bounced off Krav's layered neck muscle.
[System Alert: Damage Dealt - 1 HP]
[Target Defense exceeds Host Attack Power.]
Krav looked confused for a second, then his confusion turned into a dark, ugly grin.
"Did you... just try to karate chop me?"
Jacob tried to retract his hand, to back away, but Krav was faster.
WHAM!
Krav's backhand struck Jacob across the face like a sledgehammer.
"Gah!"
Jacob went flying. His lightweight body spun in the air and crashed into a pile of rusted scaffolding. Pain—blinding, white-hot pain—exploded in his jaw.
He tried to stand, but his legs turned to jelly. His vision swam.
"He tried to hit me!" Krav laughed, rubbing his neck. "The little rat actually tried to hit me!"
The other two thugs laughed, circling closer like hyenas.
Jacob spat out a mouthful of blood. He could feel his jaw hanging loosely. It wasn't broken, but the ligaments were strained.
My calculation was perfect, Asura raged internally. The angle was perfect! Why?!
Because you are not a God, the cold reality whispered back. You are a boy with the strength of a malnutritioned child. Technique means nothing if you cannot pierce the skin.
"You got guts, kid," Krav said, cracking his knuckles. "Stupid guts. But guts."
He walked over and kicked Jacob in the ribs.
CRACK.
Jacob curled up, gasping. That was a rib. Definitely fractured.
"Get up," Krav ordered.
Jacob tried to crawl backward. His hand brushed against a jagged piece of rusted rebar on the floor.
"I said get up!"
Krav aimed a stomp at Jacob's head.
This time, Jacob didn't try a fancy martial art. He didn't try a mystic technique.
He rolled. Desperately. Clumsily.
He rolled into the muck, grabbing the rusted rebar. It was heavy, jagged, and filthy.
As Krav's boot smashed into the concrete where Jacob's head had just been, Jacob swung the metal bar.
He didn't aim for the throat. He didn't aim for the heart. He swung wildly at Krav's shin.
CLANG!
"ARGH! FUCK!"
Krav hopped back, clutching his leg. The rebar hadn't broken the bone, but it had hurt.
"Kill him!" Krav screamed, his face turning purple. "Kill the little bastard!"
The other two thugs lunged.
Jacob scrambled to his feet. He couldn't fight them. He couldn't win.
Run.
The Sovereign—the King of Blood—turned and ran.
He sprinted through the dark basement, dodging pillars. His chest burned. His broken rib screamed with every breath.
"Get back here!"
Footsteps pounded behind him.
Jacob saw a narrow gap in the wall—a collapsed ventilation shaft leading to the sewers. It was tight. Too tight for the bulky thugs.
He threw himself at the hole.
Something sharp—a dagger—whistled through the air and sliced across his calf just as he dove.
"AH!"
He tumbled into the darkness of the shaft, sliding down the wet, slimy concrete. He landed hard in filthy water, rolling to a stop.
Above him, he heard cursing.
"He went into the pipes!" "Leave him. The sewer rats will eat him. Did you see his face? Krav messed him up bad." "Let's go. My leg is throbbing."
The voices faded.
Jacob lay in the sewer water. It was freezing. The smell was unbearable.
He tried to move, and agony shot through his entire body. His jaw. His ribs. The slice on his leg.
He dragged himself out of the water, leaning back against the slimy brick wall. He was shaking. Not from cold, but from rage. And shame.
The mighty Asura. Beaten by street thugs. Running away like a frightened animal. Hiding in a sewer.
He looked down at his trembling hands. They were covered in mud and blood.
"Arrogance," he whispered. The word tasted like bile. "I was... arrogant."
He had treated this world like a game. He thought because he knew the moves, he could win. He had forgotten the most basic rule of war: Know thyself.
He wasn't Asura right now. He was Jacob. And Jacob was weak.
Tears pricked his eyes—tears of frustration, of the boy's lingering fear, and of the Sovereign's humiliated pride.
He slammed his fist into the wall. It barely made a sound.
"Never again."
He gritted his teeth, forcing the pain down.
"I will not rely on past glory. I will not rely on tricks."
He looked at his Status Window.
[HP: 35/100 (Bleeding)]
[Status: Fractured Rib (Agility -1)]
He closed the window.
"Pain is a teacher," he hissed, forcing himself to stand up despite the screaming nerves in his leg. "And today, I learned."
He looked deeper into the sewer tunnel. It was dark. Dangerous. Probably filled with Mana Rats and Slimes.
A rational person would climb out and go to the hospital.
Jacob looked at the darkness.
"I'm not leaving," he vowed, his red eyes glowing in the pitch black. "Not until I can break that man's neck with my bare hands."
He limped forward, deeper into the dark.
"I will hunt the rats. I will eat the filth. I will crawl through this hell until my muscles tear and my bones harden."
This wasn't a cultivation retreat. It was a punishment.
[New Quest Generated by Host Will]
[Quest: The Sewer Training]
[Objective: Survive 24 Hours in the Sewers.]
[Reward: Survival.]
Jacob spat a mouthful of blood into the water.
"Start."