Chapter 139: The Master's Lament and the Ocean's Depths
The air in the Shifting Expanse's snowy region was so cold it could freeze a man's breath in his lungs. Yet, perched high on a windswept mountain ledge, Rivan Alhuwalia seemed utterly oblivious. He sat cross-legged, wearing only a simple black tank top and baggy jeans, his muscular frame exposed to the biting wind. His skin showed no goosebumps, his breath did not mist. But the mark on his face was nowhere to seen now .
The cold was beneath his notice.
His gaze was distant, lost in the swirling snow, when a familiar presence approached. The colossal, black-feathered crow with its glowing ribs descended from the grey sky, its vast wings beating silently. It landed on the ledge with a soft thud, folding its wings and dipping its head. Rivan reached out, not with the hand of a master to a servant, but with the gentle affection of a man greeting a beloved pet. He scratched the base of the crow's skull, his fingers moving through the dense, void-like feathers.
The crow, a creature of nightmare and legend, leaned into the touch, emitting a soft, guttural croon of pleasure, rubbing its head against his hand.
"Don't worry," Rivan murmured, his voice calm and reassuring. "You did good against Kuro and Ryo. There is no worry. You are still a toddler, learning to use your wings. It was a good fight for someone who has fought for the first time."
He paused, his eyes seeing not the crow, but the memory of the battle relayed through their shared connection.
"Okay, Caw Caw," he said, using the affectionate, ridiculous name he'd given the majestic beast. "You go and rest now. I'll have a very important task for you soon." The crow, Caw Caw, let out a soft, understanding caw. A shimmer of dark energy enveloped it, and it vanished, sent back to its beast space to recuperate.
Rivan's expression grew pensive again, the brief moment of warmth fading. He was sinking back into his thoughts when the air behind him shimmered. He didn't need to turn.
"Ken," he whispered.
Ken Xiao landed gracefully a few feet away, his dark kimono immaculate despite his recent battle. He immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head deeply, his long black hair sweeping the snowy ground.
"I behold my loyalty, Master," Ken intoned, his voice formal and reverent.
Rivan didn't even look at him. "Stop this bullshit, Ken," he said, a thread of genuine irritation in his voice. "I have always told you not to do these formalities in front of me. I hate these things."
A small, genuine smile touched Ken's lips as he rose. "Master, I was raised in this form. My father… he poured these protocols into my very bone marrow. It is a difficult habit to break."
Rivan let out a long, defeated sigh. "Just… sit. Beside me."
Ken hesitated, a lifetime of training screaming at him to remain standing in his master's presence. "I am fine standing—"
"Sit," Rivan commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Finally, Ken relented, settling himself on the cold stone beside Rivan, though his posture remained ramrod straight.
"So," Rivan began, staring out at the endless white. "You were a little shocked by Ryo's power?"
Ken's smile returned, sharper this time. "Yes, Master. I was… moderately surprised. I had not anticipated he would conceal his true strength so effectively. But even with that power, he would still lose to me in a direct, one-on-one battle."
"Only results matter, Ken," Rivan replied, his voice flat. "And the result is that you were unable to bring me Moon, the Black Sheep of the Alhuwalias, and Kai, the Worm of the Bloodline."
He let the silence hang between them, the only sound the howling wind.
"You know this as well as I do," Rivan continued, his voice dropping. "If you had stayed there a few seconds longer, you would have crumbled before them. You only escaped because of your 7-star essence art. You need to train harder."
He turned his head slightly, finally looking at Ken. There was no anger in his eyes, only a deep, weary resignation.
"But since the two of you together could not bring me Moon and Kai," Rivan said, "I am left with no choice. I will have to move against Ashveil directly." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't want to fight that giants, man. I truly don't."
Ken, ever the pragmatist, interjected softly. "But Master, Shi's battle with Kai is still ongoing. How can you be so sure that Kai will win?"
A faraway look entered Rivan's eyes. "From the moment I first gained true consciousness," he said softly, "I have watched them. I have seen them."
---
Xander Ocean
The world dissolved into cold, crushing darkness. The splash was a brief, violent announcement of his failure, and then Kai was sinking, pulled down into the embrace of the Xander Ocean. The pressure mounted instantly, a physical weight squeezing his chest, threatening to collapse his lungs. His grip on Luminis Aquae faltered, the sword beginning to slip from his numb fingers. With a final, desperate surge of will, he tightened his hold, the familiar weight of the blade his only anchor in the swirling void.
Then, another splash, closer this time.
He didn't need to see to know. Shi Xiao had followed him into the depths. In any other circumstance, the water would have been Kai's element, a realm where his power could flourish. But now, it was just a colder, darker tomb. He was so profoundly exhausted that the very concept of drawing power from the ocean felt like a distant, laughable dream. His mind, usually a fortress of sharp strategy, was flickering. One second he was present, feeling the icy water, the next his consciousness would blink out, and he would find himself in a fragmented, painless memory.
Through the murky water, Shi came at him, a phantom puppeteered by unseen hands. The pointed nunchaku moved with lethal precision, slower in the water's resistance, but still deadly. Kai moved on pure, dying instinct, his body twisting and turning in a slow-motion dance of evasion. Each dodge sent fresh agony lancing through his broken body.
And then, a new pain. Sharp. Unmistakable.
THWUNK.
The sound was muffled by the water, but the sensation was horrifyingly clear. Something long, sharp, and monstrous had pierced clean through his chest from behind. He looked down, his vision blurry, and saw a grotesque, pointed tip, like a rhino's horn made of bone, protruding from his sternum. It was slick with his own blood, which bloomed around it in a dark, expanding cloud.
He managed to turn his head, the movement sending waves of nausea through him. Looming out of the deep gloom was a creature of prehistoric nightmare. It resembled a spinosaurus, but its head was dominated by a single, massive, forward-thrusting horn. Its eyes were black pits of hunger. In the silent, pressurized world of the deep ocean, it was the perfect, apex predator.
In that moment, something in Kai broke.
It was not a scream of rage or a final, defiant act. It was a quiet, utter surrender. The hope that had fueled him through the tunnel, through the pain, through the betrayal, finally guttered and died. He had given everything, and it was not enough. He was going to die here, in the cold and the dark.
And he knew what came next. The pain. The unimaginable, month-long torture that awaited in that other place, that dimension of pure agony where his consciousness was sent to be reforged. The memory of it, even just the ghost of the memory, was worse than the horn in his chest.
He closed his eyes. He stopped struggling. He let go of his will to live. With what little strength he had left, he pushed himself forward, a final, gruesome act of self-sacrifice to free himself from the creature's horn. The sound of tearing flesh was silent in the water. He felt himself slide off the horn, a strange, detached sensation.
And then, he was simply falling again, sinking deeper into the abyss, a dark cloud of his own blood his only companion. He had accepted his fate. He had lost.
To be continued…