When Abner collapsed from exhaustion, Jue didn't rescue him immediately. He let the young man hang on the edge of unconsciousness, forcing his will to fight before finally pulling him back. Two near-fatal injuries and countless bruises had tempered Abner's recovery like folded steel; in just two days, he was back on his feet, pushing through the regimen Jue had set for him.
Day by day, altitude, cold, and fatigue hammered him into shape. And then—two weeks later—Abner finally stood on Makalu's summit.
He lay flat on the rock, chest heaving, the cold granite biting through his clothes. The thin, pristine air slid into his lungs like liquid crystal, filling them with a slow-burning vitality. A faint electrical tingle crawled down his spine and burst into his mind. Above him stretched a sky so blue it felt endless; below, a sea of clouds tangled around the jagged peaks. Up here, the sun struck with raw, unfiltered force—brutal, blinding, and pure.
And for the first time, Abner realized how small the squabbles of the world below truly were.
Shaking off the fog in his head, he forced himself upright. His eyes, hardened by weeks of staring into unfiltered sunlight, met the sun's blaze without flinching.
"I get it now," he said, voice hoarse but steady. "The difference between hiding behind someone powerful… and holding your own destiny. Thank you, Mr. Jue."
Jue had been waiting for him, training atop the peak. Seeing Abner arrive earlier than expected—and still able to speak—he allowed himself a faint smile.
"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Jue said, eyes on the setting sun.
Abner's mind flicked to the arrogant upper-class negotiators he'd seen—men and women who thought themselves in control, who breathed stale air and believed it was power. "They're just… fighting for scraps at the foot of the mountain."
"Don't forget how you got here," Jue replied sharply. "Miss a single step, and you wouldn't be standing now."
Abner hesitated, then asked, "But you've been up here so long. Why—"
"Do I scheme like they do?" Jue cut in. "Petty games over fleeting things? No. Their time is short—decades, maybe a century. We… do not change as they do. By the time we still stand as we are, they will be old, weak, and gone."
Abner frowned, trying to grasp the weight of those words.
"Your body's transformation means you'll live far longer than them," Jue continued. "Even your youth will last until death. As your strength grows, so will your lifespan. Few will be worthy to stand beside you."
The last embers of sunlight bled into the western horizon. The wind sharpened, carrying shards of ice that sliced against exposed skin. Abner's legs trembled on the slick, frozen stone, but Jue remained unmoving.
"I used them because I needed allies to grow stronger," Jue said, his voice barely audible over the wind. "It was mutual. My power helps them protect themselves—and this planet. That last battle was a planetary crisis. My intervention was… a favor."
Abner swayed, his body stiffening in the cold.
"You're almost at your limit," Jue said finally. "Hold out a little longer. When you can endure this, you can train here alone. I can't waste more time—Makalu's wind has nothing more to teach me."
Then, with deliberate malice, Jue gathered nearby spirit particles, intensifying the blizzard hammering Abner. The gale roared like an angry Hollow, freezing him into a living statue of ice.
Two weeks passed. Jue's control over reishi—spiritual particles—had sharpened to surgical precision. His Hakuda strikes were swifter, his Kidō more refined, and his body—woven entirely from spirit particles—was now honed to perfection. More importantly, the stillness of Makalu's heights had refined his inner will. When he next reached Shikai, he knew his blade would be far deadlier.
Abner endured until midnight before finally collapsing, his consciousness shattering into black. But every injury healed faster; his body had memorized recovery, making Jue's healing kidō almost effortless.
Within days, Abner could run from the foot of the mountain to its summit and back without collapse. When Jue finally departed, the young man could maintain his speed and carry weights even in Makalu's murderous thin air.
A hearty meal from a wealthy Indian merchant saw Jue on his way to Kathmandu. There, through the Kamar-Taj network, he sought the Ancient One.
It was his first visit to her humble wooden house on Everest. The walls were bare, yet the room's stillness had the weight of centuries.
"Your place is quiet," Jue said, sinking into the seat opposite her.
"If you enjoy it, you're welcome anytime," she replied, pouring tea with a deliberate, practiced grace. The snowmelt water sang in the pot, drawing out a faint aroma.
"Thank you for your help before," Jue said, taking the cup. The tea was light, almost shy—bitter at first, then faintly sweet, lingering like a memory. "Good tea. Good water. I've missed this."
Steam curled from the porcelain cups as the wind outside howled against the ancient temple walls.
"I'm helping you because it benefits Earth as much as it benefits you," the Ancient One said, sipping her tea. Her tone was calm, but her eyes never left Jue. "Besides… you caused quite a stir in Hell."
Jue smirked, leaning back. "A stir? I practically kicked the gates in. Did it catch Mephisto's attention?"
"It did. Two major battles in a single day—one right at the threshold of his 'Paradise.' He's not the type to ignore that."
Jue tapped the table with one finger. "Cautious as ever. And after the beating I gave him, I'd think he'd at least investigate personally."
"He hasn't. The first incident isn't even resolved yet. He sent Blackheart instead." She poured more tea, her expression unreadable.
"Blackheart… yes, I remember your file on him." Jue's eyes narrowed, the faintest glint of calculation in them. "Ambitious, clever, and carrying some of Mephisto's authority. If I play it right, he could be the lever to pry Hell apart."
"Do as you wish in Hell," the Ancient One replied, though her gaze sharpened. "But keep the human world intact."
"Demons are simple enough. The real problems are the cults and mortals already under their sway. Remove those… and the rest fall apart."
Jue's gaze shifted to the Eye of Agamotto resting nearby. "How did you come by that? Controlling time like that must strain even you."
"The power of time is never easy to master. I can only wield a fraction of it." There was a trace of nostalgia in her voice, but no hint she would reveal more.
"Time and space," Jue mused. "Abilities subtle in execution but devastating in the right hands. Combined with Charles's telepathy… terrifying, in the right scenario."
"And yet time has no hold on you," she said, finally showing the curiosity of a true sorcerer. "Are all the Shinigami you speak of like this?"
Jue shook his head. "No. I'm… unique. Soul Society's Shinigami still age. I don't. I was sent there after being completely dead. Reborn as something abandoned by life itself—immune to time, cut off from its flow. It's… not pleasant."
"Then psychic power as well?"
"My tolerance is simply higher than most," Jue replied. "My greatest foe once was a master of mental domination. Compared to him, Charles's skills are… quaint." He waved a hand dismissively, then leaned forward. "Speaking of Charles, I'll need your help next year—with the Phoenix."
"Jean?" the Ancient One asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Yes. I plan to train it—like taming a wild beast. Let it surface, push it to act, and when it's fully dominant, Charles will help Jean devour it."
"The Phoenix won't be tamed so easily," she warned.
"True. But like you sorcerers, it has a vulnerable moment at the start. If the plan fails, I'll end it. Permanently." A faint smile curved Jue's lips.
"So that's why you were never afraid of us. Immunity to our powers… and the skill to win in close combat."
"Not at first," Jue admitted. "The first month, I was cautious. Once I learned to control my reishi to block psychic and spatial influence, the fear vanished."
"You haven't told Charles you'd kill the Phoenix if necessary, have you?"
"He's no fool. He knows the risk. If it keeps growing unchecked, it will spiral beyond recovery—and he was the one who forged its seal."
The Ancient One studied him. "You understand… it's not a true Phoenix."
"Exactly. It's a fragment—no core. Dangerous, but far from invincible."
Her lips curved in the faintest smirk. "People like you always sound reasonable—until the moment comes to act. Then you're the most ruthless of all."
Jue stood, brushing off his cloak. "It's what keeps me alive."
As he turned for the door, she added, "Don't push Charles too far. He still shoulders the weight of mutantkind."
"I know. He's my bridge to them—and smart enough to choose survival when the time comes."
This time, Jue didn't vanish in a flash-step. He walked out slowly, each step echoing through the stone halls, before taking to the skies over the frozen peak.