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Chapter 20 – Alone in the Wilds
Kelvin woke to the sound of his own heartbeat.
For a moment, he thought the nightmare had followed him into the waking world—the whisper of vines slithering across stone, the eyes he swore had glared at him in the dark, the gnashing of unseen teeth—but when the gray light of dawn filtered through the canopy above, all that remained was the suffocating silence of the ruin. His back ached from sleeping against the gnarled roots of a twisted tree, and the dew that clung to his clothes made his skin clammy and cold.
"Morning already…? Hah." His voice cracked, half-laugh, half-sigh. "Guess I didn't die in my sleep. That's a win."
He forced himself to his feet, muscles sore but not broken. His body carried the raw fatigue of someone who had spent an entire night listening, waiting, flinching at every snapped twig and rustle in the undergrowth. Whatever prowled these ruins had spared him—or perhaps been repelled by the faint ripple of killing intent that had unconsciously leaked out while he slept.
Kelvin didn't know, and he wasn't about to question it. All that mattered was that he had survived.
But Silvia hadn't.
Or at least, he hadn't found her.
The memory of their separation—the chaotic flash of the portal splitting them apart, her startled cry echoing before fading into silence—tightened in his chest. His fists clenched. He couldn't afford to think about the worst. Not yet.
"First things first," he muttered, patting the hilt of his blade. "Survive. Then find her."
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Later that day while hunting in the wilds
The forest floor was alive with danger. Strange trees twisted into shapes that felt almost intentional, roots curling like skeletal fingers, branches arching into jagged spears. Moss glistened wetly in the dim light, and the air carried the faint metallic tang of blood, though no wounds had been opened yet.
Barely an hour into his search, Kelvin was ambushed.
They came out of the mist like shadows given form—two hound-like beasts, their hides black as obsidian, with jagged bone protrusions jutting from their spines like broken blades. Their eyes glowed sickly green, and saliva dripped in ropes from serrated fangs.
"Rank 2… maybe low Rank 3." Kelvin steadied his breathing, the pulse in his ears sharpening. "Perfect test dummies."
The first lunged, fast as an arrow. Kelvin pivoted, the world slowing for just an instant as his training took over. He sidestepped, blade flashing, carving a shallow line across its ribs. The beast howled, spinning with unnatural flexibility, bone spikes clattering as it twisted back toward him.
The second charged, jaws snapping for his shoulder. Kelvin rolled, dirt smearing across his clothes, before springing back to his feet. He gritted his teeth, recalling the rune stone's whisper in his memory. Ancient patterns. A path carved in steel.
"Anshoku Zan(Eclipse Sever)…"
He tightened his grip, channeling Qi into the edge. The blade thrummed with power, resonating with his heartbeat. He slashed.
The air detonated.
A crescent of compressed force carved outward, colliding with the beast's chest. The hound was hurled backward, ribs caving as though struck by a hammer of pure Qi. It twitched once before collapsing into stillness.
Kelvin's lips curled into a grin. "It works."
The other beast hesitated, hackles raised, a low growl vibrating in its throat. Hunger battled instinct. Instinct lost.
It pounced again.
Kelvin exhaled. "Let's try something new."
Instead of releasing the raw force of Eclipse Sever, he narrowed it, refining it, condensing the flow into a single, razor-fine line. His sword glowed faintly, the air shimmering along its edge.
"Shinto-Shika."
A lance of light erupted, piercing the hound's skull clean through. It dropped without a sound, lifeless before it hit the ground.
Kelvin lowered his blade, chest heaving, exhilaration running like fire through his veins. "Two new moves… not bad for a morning warm-up."
He carved a chunk of meat from the fallen beasts, roasting it over a makeshift fire. The smell was acrid, the flesh oily and bitter, but it filled his stomach. As the greasy smoke drifted skyward, he chewed in silence, eyes scanning the shifting shadows of the trees.
The ruin was testing him. Pushing him. Forcing him to adapt—or die.
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The Long Days
By the third day, Kelvin's hands were blistered, his clothes torn, his boots caked with mud and blood. The ruins offered no kindness: water was brackish, food was scarce, and sleep was a gamble. Every night, he felt eyes watching him—never close enough to see, but never far enough to ignore.
He fought scavenger beasts with claws like sickles, serpents that hissed venom through cracked stone, and swarms of chittering insects that gnawed through leather as if it were paper. His blade was his only companion, its steel nicked and stained, but it never failed him.
Still, silence was the worst enemy.
When the fire burned low and exhaustion dragged him to the edge of sleep, thoughts of Silvia came unbidden. Her startled cry as the portal ripped them apart. The way her eyes had widened, not in fear, but in trust—trust that he would find her again.
"Damn it, Silvia…" Kelvin muttered into the night. "You'd better be alive. I'm not… I'm not walking out of here without you."
His voice cracked on the last words. The fire popped, and something howled in the distance. He gripped his sword tighter and didn't sleep until dawn.
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A few days later
On the fourth day, while scouring the overgrown ruins of what seemed to be an abandoned shrine, Kelvin stumbled upon a cracked stone pedestal. Time and moss had swallowed most of it, but one object remained untouched: a vial of shimmering liquid, glowing faintly with golden light.
It pulsed, as if alive.
Kelvin picked it up, rolling it between his fingers. The Aurora within was dense, pure, like liquid sunlight. His instincts screamed caution.
But his body screamed hunger.
"To hell with it." He popped the cork and downed it in one gulp.
The effect was immediate.
Fire surged through his veins, his body convulsing as though struck by lightning. He collapsed to his knees, clawing at the earth as a torrent of energy ripped through his meridians. His vision blurred, muscles tearing and knitting back together, bones humming with raw power.
"Ahhh—dammit!" The scream tore from his throat, half agony, half defiance.
Minutes—or hours—passed in a haze of pain. He felt like he was being unmade and reforged, every flaw burned away, every weakness scoured.
Then, at last, clarity.
Kelvin collapsed onto his back, gasping at the canopy above. His body felt lighter, sharper, like a bowstring drawn taut. His Qi sea swirled with newfound depth, stronger, steadier than ever before,his origin cells big more vibrant and healthy than most on the same rank.
"…Basic Tier. Rank 3." His lips curled into a smirk, weak but triumphant. "Finally."
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The next days blurred together. He hunted, fought, scavenged, bled. He learned to move silently, to sleep lightly, to read the subtle shifts of wind and shadow that warned of danger.
But no matter how much stronger he grew, the loneliness gnawed at him.
Silvia was out there. Somewhere. Maybe alive, maybe not. The thought was a blade at his throat, a wound that never closed.
One night, as the ruins groaned under the weight of the wind, Kelvin sat by his fire, staring into the flames. He held his sword across his lap, fingers tracing the worn grip.
"I'll find you, Silvia," he whispered. His voice was steady now. A promise.
In the darkness beyond the firelight, something shifted. Too large to be a beast. Too patient to be hungry.
Kelvin's grip tightened. His eyes narrowed.
Whatever stalked these ruins, whatever shadow moved in the dark—he was ready.
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