Deris's eyes were no longer clouded with mere hatred; they were ablaze with the madness born of a bitter, crushing defeat. Reaching into his robes, he fumbled out a handful of dark-crimson pills—the sect's forbidden "Blood Explosion" elixirs, drugs that transmuted a cultivator's very life essence into raw, violent power. Without hesitation, he shoved them into his mouth, crushing them between his teeth.
A grotesque tremor rippled through Deris's frame. A vortex of deep, blood-colored Erta began to swirl around him, thickening until the air stank of iron and rotting meat. Master Sarto froze, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets.
"This is… madness!" Sarto lunged forward, intending to stop the self-destructive process. But before he could intervene, a heavy, cold hand clamped onto his shoulder.
Sarto spun around to see Karot standing behind him. Karot's face was a mask of indifference, a subtle tilt of his head conveying a single, silent command: Do not interfere. The weight of that gaze paralyzed the referee's will.
Beneath Deris's skin, his veins turned pitch black and protruded like writhing worms. His body ignited in a crimson shroud of energy. He was no longer a man; he was a beast forged of pure, unadulterated rage. Ardam struggled to his feet, but in the blink of an eye, Deris was upon him.
[CRASH!]
A devastating fist slammed into Ardam's jaw. The sheer force launched him across the arena, pinning him against the reinforced stone wall. Before Ardam could even slide to the floor, Deris's follow-up strikes descended like a hail of meteors. Every blow echoed with the sickening crunch of breaking bone. Deris pummeled Ardam like a rabid dog, each impact pulverizing the stone floor beneath them.
Ardam tried to guard, tried to evade, but his body couldn't keep up with this unnatural speed. His Erta remained choked by that lingering black energy, preventing him from tapping into his full strength. Deris bounced Ardam across the arena like a ragdoll, repeatedly slamming his blood-soaked body into the jagged rocks.
The arena fell into a deathly silence. No one dared to breathe, let alone speak. Only Lyuna's screams pierced the heavy air.
"Stop it! Please, end this fight!" she pleaded, tears streaming down her face as she turned to the judges.
When no one moved, Lyuna's desperation broke. She bolted toward the arena floor to save him. But in that instant, her path was blocked by Mertis—an inner sect disciple and one of Deris's lackeys. Mertis chuckled maliciously, grabbing Lyuna by her silken hair and throwing her violently to the ground.
"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" Mertis sneered. As she tried to rise, he kicked her squarely in the stomach with all his might.
Lyuna curled into a ball, gasping for air. The onlookers saw the injustice, but fear kept their eyes averted. Through the dust and pain, Lyuna looked toward Ardam, a single name escaping her bruised lips: "Ardam…"
Deris gripped Ardam by the throat, hoisting his bloodied body into the air with one hand. Ardam's feet dangled, his lungs screaming for oxygen as his vision began to fade into darkness. But as the shadows closed in, Deris's face warped and shifted in Ardam's mind. He no longer saw a sect disciple; he saw Jakob—the greatest enemy from his first life. The mocking crowd became the colleagues and bosses who had stepped on him in his previous existence.
A searing white-hot hatred ignited Ardam's soul. He ground his teeth so hard blood leaked from his gums. The Ancient Core in his heart woke like a long-dormant volcano.
With a final, desperate burst of strength, Ardam lunged his fingers toward Deris's face.
[SQUELCH!]
Ardam's fingers sank deep into Deris's right eye socket. The eyeball ruptured, spraying blood and vitreous fluid across Ardam's hand. Deris let out a subhuman shriek of agony and threw Ardam away, clutching his ruined face as he wailed.
Ardam hit the ground and forced himself up, limping, swaying, but standing. His eyes were flooded with blood, the world reduced to a hazy crimson veil. He was practically blind, yet his posture remained defiant.
Deris wiped the gore from his face, his remaining eye fixed on Ardam with murderous intent. Ardam closed his eyes. He no longer relied on sight; he relied on instinct. He funneled the power of his Heart Core into a high-frequency detector.
In his mind's eye, the world turned gray. Only one point shone—Deris's body—burning with a chaotic, dense red energy. He sensed the approach, the trajectory of the killing blow.
"Swift Steps!"
Ardam's form vanished in a heartbeat. Deris's fist tore through nothing but air. An instant later, Ardam materialized behind his enemy. His left hand balled into a fist, the air around him crackling as violet sparks began to dance. He gathered every ounce of his hatred, his will, and his Erta into this single strike.
"Merdun Lightning!"
Deris sensed the terrifying surge and crossed his arms in a desperate guard.
[THUNDER-CRACK!]
A deafening roar of thunder shook the very foundations of the arena. When Ardam's fist connected with Deris's guard, an explosion of energy erupted as if a lightning bolt had struck the earth from a clear sky. Half the arena floor collapsed into rubble. Disciples in the stands scrambled back in terror. A pillar of violet lightning soared upward, seeming to pierce the black clouds above.
Dust and smoke smothered the field. A ringing silence followed. When the air finally cleared, the sight that met them was a living nightmare.
Both of Deris's arms, which he had used to block the strike, had been torn clean off at the shoulders and thrown several meters away. A massive, jagged rent was torn across his chest, black blood geysering from the wound. Deris's corpse remained upright, kneeling, his head slumped forward in death.
Above him stood Ardam. His clothes were shredded, soaked in gore and grime, but he stood tall. Every cell in his body was screaming, hovering on the precipice of total collapse.
[DING!]
[Immediate use of "Death Breath Runestone" recommended. Activate?]
"Do it…" Ardam whispered.
[DING! Runestone activated. Commencing restoration...]
[WARNING! Body is in critical condition. Total stillness is advised.]
Ardam tried to take a step, but his consciousness finally buckled. He fell, but he didn't hit the cold stone. Warm, gentle arms caught him.
Lyuna, ignoring her own injuries, had reached him. She draped his arm over her shoulder, becoming his anchor. Her tears dripped onto Ardam's blood-masked face. Gritting her teeth, she led him through the stunned, horrified crowd and out of the arena.
The Outer Sect infirmary was quiet in the pale light of dawn. The air was thick with the scent of bitter medicinal herbs and ancient salves. When Ardam opened his eyes, he felt an uncanny lightness. Every cell felt renewed; the agonizing stabs in his bones were gone. He turned his head to see Lyuna sitting at the edge of his bed, her head slumped in an exhausted sleep. Fear still lingered on her face, her fingers instinctively gripping the bedsheets.
A cold, clear system window flickered in Ardam's mind:
[DING!][Death Breath Runestone successfully consumed.][Host body 100% restored. Cellular regeneration complete.]
[HOST STATUS:]
Name: Ardam Cray (Age 25)
Rank: Shadow Sword Sect Warrior
Techniques:
Merdun Lightning (Basic): 36% (Experience gained through combat strain)
Swift Steps: 100% (Fully Mastered)Stats:
Body: 22
Strength: 15
Cultivation: 6th
Erta Vein (Saturated)
Erta Quantity: 780 URC
Balance: 750 AC / 400 OC
Inventory: Death Breath Runestone x1
Ardam felt a bottleneck within his spirit. His 6th vein was brimming with energy, but the path to the 7th felt barred. "If just gathering Erta was enough, everyone would be a genius," he thought with a grim smile. He lacked "Energy Insight." Though officially a 1st-Rank Warrior, he was still standing at the threshold of true power. He needed a catalyst—an ancient knowledge—to shatter this wall.
Lyuna's eyelashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes. Seeing Ardam sitting up, her eyes lit up with joy. Without thinking, she threw herself into his chest. "Thank the heavens! You're awake, Ardam!" her voice broke with relief.
Ardam gently stroked her hair. After a moment, Lyuna regained her composure and sat back. Ardam stood up and reached for the fresh clothes set in the corner. As he dressed, Lyuna's gaze never left him. There was no shame in her eyes anymore, only an infinite warmth and absolute trust. "She doesn't even feel uncomfortable seeing me like this. She's given herself to me completely," Ardam noted.
Once dressed, he stepped toward her and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for everything. What happened while I was out?"
Lyuna took a deep breath. "Elder Elias… he went completely insane after his son's death. He tried to tear you apart right there in the arena. But Elder Bermis blocked him. The clash between two high-level warriors nearly leveled the sect. Finally, Sect Leader Drake intervened and stopped Elias. He has strictly forbidden him from approaching you. When Elder Bermis came to check on you, he was stunned by how fast you were healing. He left with a strange smile on his face."
Her expression turned serious. "The first stage of the Successor's Tournament was moved to this afternoon. The judges said if you don't arrive on time, you'll be disqualified."
"How long was I out?" Ardam asked.
"A full day. The sect doctors and alchemists called you a 'miracle.' No one thought you'd survive that formation blast. And…"
Ardam cut her off by pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss. Lyuna melted into the embrace, her breath hot against his neck. As they pulled apart, a system notification chimed:
[DING! Intimacy detected. Proactive kiss: +15 AC.]
"You never stop talking, do you?" Ardam teased with a half-smile. Lyuna blushed and looked away. "I have to go. I have a few hours before the tournament," Ardam said, exiting the room with purpose.
As he walked, Ardam's mind worked with mechanical precision. "Drake… my uncle. He would never protect me out of the goodness of his heart. Stopping Elias wasn't about order; it means he has his own plans. As for old man Bermis… that's another story."
Ardam bypassed the luxury corridors of the Inner Sect and headed straight for the library.
Meanwhile, the massive field on the edge of the sect was as crowded as a battlefield. It wasn't just the Shadow Sword Sect; their rivals—the Dance of Death Sect—had arrived in full force. In the center of the field, dozens of masters held their hands aloft, maintaining a massive formation. At its center, a swirling black-violet portal pulsed, bleeding crimson winds.
The Great Master of the Dance of Death Sect, Kerio, stepped forward. His voice, amplified by Erta, thundered across the plains: "Participants! Through this portal lies the 'Blood Forest.' The first stage begins the moment the portal closes! Your task: find the ancient artifacts hidden within and harvest the Erta Stones from the beasts there. Form groups or fight alone. The points will be credited to your sect. There are no rules inside! Death, betrayal, theft—all are permitted!"
Kerio smirked coldly. "You will spend one month in there. But only one hour will pass in the outside world. After one month, all survivors will be automatically teleported back. If you are ready… enter!"
[GONG!]
Participants began diving into the portal one by one. Lyuna, having reached the field, scanned the crowd desperately for Ardam.
Karot and Clay stood near Drake. "Even if he beat Deris, he was on the verge of death. Trash is trash; he won't show," Clay sneered behind his brother. Karot didn't answer, only offering a haughty smile. The portal began to narrow.
"Where are you, Young Master?" Tears welled in Lyuna's eyes. The edges of the portal were already drawing together, seconds away from closing.
In that heartbeat, a violent roar tore through the air. A massive bolt of violet and green lightning flashed across the field like a falling star.
Before the crowd could even blink, the lightning slammed into the final sliver of the closing portal.
"Ardam!" Lyuna's cry turned into a shout of triumph.
The portal snapped shut. All that remained on the field was the sharp scent of ozone and the swirling dust left in Ardam's wake.