Chapter 78
The morning light was pale and cold when Elijah opened his eyes, the ceiling of his bedroom coming into focus above him. He had slept for four hours, which was more than he had expected given everything that had happened the night before.
The attack on the warehouse, the prisoners, the confrontation with the Blackwater Syndicate, the agreement to marry a woman he had met twice in his life.
His body was tired, but his mind was already moving, already shifting toward the tasks ahead.
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet pressing flat against the cold floor.
The room was quiet. His mother was still asleep down the hall.
His sister was probably buried under her blankets, her phone glowing in the darkness as she scrolled through whatever had captured her attention before she drifted off.
He could hear the distant sound of birds outside the window, the soft rumble of an early delivery truck passing on the street below, the quiet hum of the city waking up around him.
A screen flashed in the corner of his vision.
Day 45 of your Tasks, Little King
Use the Gathering breathing technique
Run wearing the upgraded equipment
Body training and weight training wearing the upgraded equipment
Shower
Eat breakfast with your family
Take your sister to school
Go to the territory
Handle the remaining gang members from the south side
Elijah closed the screen and stood up. There was no time to waste.
He dressed in his training clothes, the fabric worn soft in some places and torn in others from weeks of constant use.
He pulled the upgraded equipment from his inventory, the vest settling over his shoulders with a weight that still made his knees buckle slightly, the limb straps tightening around his wrists and ankles, the Ki-filtration mask pressing against his face.
The weight was fifty kilograms on his shoulders, thirty kilograms on each limb, and the mask pulled at his Ki with every breath he took.
He stepped outside and began to run.
The streets of the 7th District were empty at this hour, the streetlights still glowing in the fading darkness, the only sounds the rhythm of his own breathing and the steady beat of his feet against the pavement.
His legs screamed with every stride, the weights pulling at his joints, the vest compressing his chest, the mask stealing his air.
His Ki sense was dulled by the filtration, his connection to the energy around him weaker than it had ever been, but he kept running.
The Gathering breathing worked in tandem with his movements, pulling Ki from every corner of his body and bringing it toward his heart.
The door behind his heart was nearly open now, the Ki seed waiting to be formed. One more push, one more breakthrough, and he would reach the Advanced Knight Stage.
But he did not rush. He let his body grow at its own pace, let the Eternal Grounded Tree sink its roots deeper, let the adaptation and gathering breathing do their work.
Ten kilometers passed beneath his feet. The sun rose over the buildings, casting long shadows across the pavement, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
By the time he returned to the house, his legs were shaking, his arms were trembling, and his breath came in ragged gasps that the mask struggled to accommodate.
He removed the equipment and stored it in his inventory, then stepped into the shower. The water was hot against his skin, washing away the sweat and the tension, loosening the muscles that had been clenched for hours. He stood there for a long time, and when he stepped out, his body felt whole again.
He dressed in clean clothes—dark jeans, a plain shirt, the black jacket with the golden sun and the golden trim that marked him as the leader of the Azura Gang—and walked into the kitchen.
His mother was at the stove, flipping pancakes in a pan, the smell of butter and syrup filling the small kitchen.
Amy was already at the table, her phone in one hand and a fork in the other, her purple hair pulled back in a messy bun.
She looked up when Elijah entered, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of his jacket, the golden sun catching the light from the window.
"Nice jacket," she said, her voice flat. "Very dramatic."
Elijah sat down across from her. "Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
Stella turned from the stove, a spatula in her hand, and smiled at him. "You look tired," she said.
"I didn't sleep well," Elijah said, which was true enough.
"You never sleep well these days." She set a plate of pancakes in front of him, then another in front of Amy, and sat down with her own coffee. "You need to take better care of yourself."
"I will."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clink of forks against plates and the soft hum of the refrigerator.
Amy scrolled through her phone, her thumb moving lazily across the screen, her expression shifting between boredom and mild annoyance.
"Anything interesting?" Elijah asked.
Amy shook her head. "Just the usual. People posting pictures of their food, complaining about the weather, arguing about things that don't matter." She set her phone down and stabbed at her pancakes with her fork. "I don't know why I even bother looking anymore."
"Because you're addicted," Stella said.
"I'm not addicted. I'm just... bored."
"Those are the same thing sometimes."
Amy made a face but didn't argue.
Stella finished her coffee and stood up, gathering her bag and her coat. "I'm going to work. Amy, don't be late for school. Elijah, thank you for taking her."
"I will," Elijah said.
The door closed behind her.
Amy was already on her feet, her bag over her shoulder, her phone in her hand. "Let's go. I don't want to be late."
Elijah grabbed his keys and followed her out the door.
The drive to the school was short, barely ten minutes through the morning traffic.
Amy spent most of it looking out the window, her chin resting on her hand, her purple hair blowing across her face.
He pulled up to the front gate and killed the engine.
"Same time this afternoon?" he asked.
Amy nodded. "Don't be late."
"I won't."
She opened the door and stepped out of the car, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Elijah," she said.
"Yeah?"
"Let's go shopping today,"
He looked at her.
"Okay, after school," he said.
She nodded, closed the door, and walked through the gates without looking back.
The wood working building on Fuller Street looked different in the daylight than it had the night before.
The windows were still broken, the walls still covered in graffiti, the air still thick with the smell of sawdust and machine oil.
But the bodies were gone.
The blood had been cleaned.
The only evidence that a fight had happened here at all was the faint smell of bleach and the dark stains on the concrete floor that no amount of scrubbing could remove.
Elijah parked the car and walked toward the entrance.
Two Azura gang members stood guard outside the door, their black jackets with the golden sun bright against the gray morning light.
They nodded at him as he passed, their hands resting on the weapons hidden beneath their jackets, their eyes scanning the street for trouble.
Inside, the factory was quiet.
The machines were still and silent, covered in dust, their blades dull and unused.
The only light came from a few bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the concrete floor.
And in the center of the room, standing in a loose group with their heads bowed and their hands bound, were the survivors of the south side gang.
Seventeen of them, just as Kai had said. Men and women both, their faces pale, their clothes torn, their bodies covered in bruises and bandages.
Most at Beginner Knight Stage Mid, a few at High.
They looked up when Elijah entered,
Kai was standing near the front of the group, his blue eyes scanning the prisoners, his dark purple aura flickering around him. He looked up when Elijah approached and nodded once.
"Seventeen," Kai said. "Those are the ones who stayed loyal during the fight. And also the ones who were not involved in the attack."
Elijah looked at the prisoners. At their pale faces, their trembling hands, their flickering auras. They were scared.
They had watched their comrades die the night before, had watched Elijah execute five of their leaders in cold blood, had watched Kai strangle their gang leader to death in the office at the back of the factory.
They were expecting to die. He could see it in their eyes.
He took a breath and walked toward them.
Ten Azura gang members followed him, their black jackets with the golden sun bright against the gray walls of the factory.
They spread out behind him, forming a line, their hands resting on their weapons, their eyes hard.
They were not there to intimidate the prisoners. They were there to protect Elijah, in case any of the prisoners decided to do something stupid.
Elijah stopped a few feet away from the prisoners and looked at each of them in turn.