[Location: Ghosthollow's Eastern Ridge – Forgotten Shrine of Aethra][Time: Pre-dawn, Twilight Hour]
[Training Mode: Initiated][Objective: Establish a Stable Cultivation Root]
[Warning: System will minimize assistance. Cultivation growth must be personally understood or foundational flaw will occur.]
[System Support: OFFLINE]
Ren sat cross-legged in the center of the shrine's cracked stone platform. Around him, ancient spirit-inscribed pillars leaned drunkenly against time, overgrown with thornvine and silkmoss. The moon had long set, but dawn refused to come.
The wind was sharp here—whispers trailing with every gust. He could hear the murmuring of wayward spirits again, but this time, they didn't scream.
They listened.
In front of him, Aria traced lines in the dust with a fingertip, drawing a sigil he couldn't recognize.
"You want to grow stronger," she said softly. "But you're trying to stack bones without flesh. You're missing the root."
Ren opened his mouth, but Aria raised a hand.
"I'm not talking about System stats or flashy skills. I'm talking about cultivation. Intent. Flow. Spirit resonance. You've been granted a System, yes—but you've never meditated properly. You haven't even opened your inner gate."
Ren looked down at his hands. "Because the System—"
"Is a crutch," she snapped. "And the deeper you rely on it without understanding your own foundation, the faster it'll hollow you out. A Reaper without spirit sense is just a glorified ghost with a blade."
She sat opposite him, cross-legged, matching his posture.
"Today, we learn to breathe."
Phase One: Stillness
[Initiating Core Stability Sequence…][System Offline – Awaiting Independent Resonance]
Aria guided him through the basics: slow breathing. Soul-thread awareness. Listening to the flow of internal qi. Ren, used to fighting, found it maddening at first.
Nothing moved. Nothing happened.
But then, after an hour of silence—
He felt it.
A dull warmth just beneath his sternum. A pulse, like the echo of a second heart.
[Spirit Root Located – Type: Obsidian Thread Root]
[Nature: Reversal-Based. Reactive. Conditional Growth.]
[Flaw: Lacks Initiation Spark. Requires pain or death-stimulus for evolution.]
[Cultivation Grade: Unknown. System Cannot Classify.]
He exhaled sharply. "It's… broken?"
Aria opened one eye, then both. Her gaze was sharp.
"No. It's rare. Obsidian roots only form in souls forged by trauma or deep karmic imbalance. Yours is coiled around pain—but not bound to it. It reflects suffering. Echoes it. The more you're hurt, the more you adapt."
He frowned. "That sounds more like a curse than a blessing."
Aria stood and walked to one of the shrine's broken columns, placing her hand against its weathered glyphs.
"Maybe. But that's what cultivation is, Ren. Turning your flaws into pathways. Harnessing your nature instead of fighting it."
Phase Two: Qi Induction
The real difficulty came next—learning to draw in the world's ambient energy and circulate it through his meridians. Ren's first attempts were crude. The moment he tried to channel qi through his arms, the lines stung and locked up.
"Your channels are clogged," Aria said. "Probably due to your soul transplant. We'll have to force them open."
She didn't wait for his response.
Aria drew a long needle from a leather case. "Brace yourself."
The needle pierced his left wrist—and a wave of white-hot fire rolled up his arm, through his chest, and into his spine.
Ren screamed.
[Cultivation Meridian Flow Activated][Inner Gate #1: Unlocked – Minor Soulgate (Vestibule)]
[Qi Affinity: Shadow, Decay, Reflection]
[Warning: Your meridians may be unstable without regular reinforcement. Recommend Guided Meditation (3x/day)]
When the pain faded, Ren was shivering—but awake. Alert.
He could feel everything now—the air, the earth, the blood in his veins. The System remained silent, as if waiting to see whether he'd stand on his own.
And he did.
Later, as the sun rose
Aria poured tea into cracked porcelain cups, watching the light stretch across the stone.
"You're not weak," she said. "But you're undisciplined. If you keep fighting like you did with Kael, someone's going to break your soul. Next time, your Reaper System won't save you."
Ren looked at her over the steam. "Why are you helping me?"
She hesitated. For the first time, her expression softened.
"…Because I know what it's like to fail your first pact. And not everyone gets a second chance."
She stood.
"We'll train every morning. Until your root stabilizes. Until you learn to fight without the System whispering in your ear."
Ren nodded.
Because in that moment, he understood.
Power wasn't in the System. Not in the Reaper sickle. Not even in the ghosts that whispered his name.
Power was knowing yourself—and refining that into something sharp.
Something enduring.
Something deadlier than death itself.