Half a month had passed in the blink of an eye. On a quiet morning by the river, Shion sat watching the shimmering reflections on the water when a stranger happened to notice him from afar. Curiosity flickered across the man's face as he drew closer, wondering to himself: Who is this boy?
But before he could take another step, an old man with wise features stopped him.
The stranger asked impatiently:
— What is it, old man?
The elder smiled gently and replied in a calm tone:
— Do not disturb him… or you will regret it.
The man frowned, unconvinced.
— The forest belongs to no one! If I wish to go somewhere, I'll go. No one can stop me!
The old man sighed softly.
— Another fool…
Then walked away, leaving the stranger seething.
Thinking Shion to be the old man's grandson, the stranger pressed forward. Yet just a few steps away, Shion suddenly rose to his feet, tracing a flawless magical circle in the air. Instantly, the waters around him stirred, rising as if called, forming waves massive enough to swallow a man whole.
The stranger's face paled; he fell back in terror, trembling. But Shion quickly dispelled the magic before it could harm anyone.
— I'm sorry for the commotion… I hope you can forgive me, — he said quietly.
He hadn't finished speaking before the man bolted, fleeing like one who had glimpsed a monster.
The old man returned, smiling.
— Don't worry, child. He's just an ignorant fool, not worth your concern.
Sitting beside him, he asked:
— How have you been lately?
Shion smiled back.
— I'm fine, grandpa. Do you want me to catch fish for today?
Their bond was like that of father and son. Shion had never found warmth in his own family, who despised him, yet this old man supported him unconditionally.
Once, when Shion had nearly collapsed from sword training, the elder offered him rest at his hut. It was then he discovered Shion's fire magic, in addition to water. From that day, they shared simple meals—fish or meat the elder caught, roasted by Shion's flames. With every shared meal, their closeness grew deeper.
One day, noticing Shion's unusual diligence, the old man chuckled.
— You're working harder than usual today. Did something happen?
Shion answered with a determined smile:
— I feel I'm close to a breakthrough in my training… so I want to finish some tasks before I start meditating.
The elder laughed heartily, shaking his head.
— Boy, how can you speak of meditation when you're so impatient? You may be nearing a breakthrough, but without a firm foundation, you'll only fall from the height you climb.
Shion lowered his gaze, touched by the words.
— Thank you for the advice, grandpa.
Inwardly, his heart ached: My family never cared for me… but this old man treats me like his own son, worrying for me sincerely.
From then on, Shion threw himself deeper into training. He read three combat manuals only once, yet grasped their essence with ease. He sought to merge swordsmanship with his magic. Though his natural element was water, his long contemplation of campfire flames awakened a profound understanding of fire, which he then wove into his new magical circle.
After only half a month, it seemed as if time itself had reshaped him. His once frail and fragile body had become a weapon carefully forged; his muscles now stood out clearly, carrying within them the promise of hidden strength. With every deep breath, he felt streams of magic surging inside him, burning like flames waiting to erupt. He raised his sword, and the air around him shimmered with an unseen aura; the blade that once weighed heavily in his hand now moved lightly, as if it were an extension of his very soul. This was not mere physical training, but a rebirth—a rebirth of a warrior whose strength and magic flowed as one, opening before him a path toward battles unlike any he had ever faced.
At last, after countless preparations, he resolved to return to the wilderness world—to challenge the child who had once defeated him so easily.
The child sat there, eyes closed in deep meditation. When he opened them, dark, chilling eyes met Shion's, making his heart shiver.
The boy's cold voice rang out:
— You may learn quickly, but you haven't mastered those books. Do you really think you can defeat me at your level?
Shion's reply was steady:
— I don't know the gap between us… but I must try, at least. How else will I learn what I'm lacking?
The boy chuckled as he rose to his feet.
— Very well. Show me your strength!
He unsheathed his sword, its cold, ominous gleam filling the air.
Shion did the same, gripping his own blade firmly.
Their second clash was about to begin.
Within his mind, summoning the sword was effortless. In his hand appeared the very blade he had once seen with Shi Yun Lan in the fifth scene. Yet unlike that memory, the weapon looked ordinary, unremarkable. The child before him gave him no chance to wonder—he lunged with all his might, aiming to drive the blade into Shion's stomach.
Shion twisted aside, evading the strike, and swiftly unleashed water magic: Flow of Water. It was among the simplest of spells, yet under his new mindset—sharpened by the Tome of Water Ripples—its efficiency was far greater.
The stream surged toward the child. But the boy's strength flared, and with the same technique—Water Ripples—he seized control of the current and sent it crashing back toward Shion.
A faint smile crossed Shion's lips; he had anticipated this. He mirrored the technique, but merged it with a vertical slash. The waters fell with his sword like a cascading waterfall.
The child stepped back, smirking.
— A fine attack… but what use is it if it misses?
Shion's eyes burned with resolve.
— Who said that was my final move?
As the waters struck the ground, his left hand burst into flame. A searing blaze.
— This is my victory!
He hurled the Scorching Fire at the boy. The child only smiled before the flames engulfed him. Shion's chest tightened—though he despised the boy, he hadn't wished to kill him. He moved forward to check on him, but another voice rang out:
— You've defeated a child with a decent technique. You are worthy of entering the First Vein.
Shion's gaze lifted. Standing before him was an older figure: a youth of about thirteen, bearing the same resemblance as the child… and as Shion himself.
The youth spoke, his smile professional, yet unsettling:
— Don't worry, I am Shi Yun Lan. I hold the first inheritance of the Art of Annihilation. If you wish to learn it, you may enter the Vein and receive its vision. Should you need guidance, I can offer it.
Unease gnawed at Shion.
— What happened to you?
Shi Yun Lan's eyes rolled with disdain.
— Even after defeating me, you remain foolish. I thought you'd grow wiser once you passed the trial, but your mind is still lacking.
The sharpness of his words cut deep, yet Shion felt oddly relieved.
— Then… you cannot die here, can you?
A cold laugh escaped Shi Yun Lan.
— With your pitiful strength, killing me is as far from you as the heavens from the earth. To end me completely, you would have to awaken every Vein and slay the final representative. I am merely the embodiment of the First Vein.
Shion's brow furrowed.
— What do you mean by the first inheritance? How many exist?
Shi Yun Lan's tone turned solemn.
— There are three. The first inheritance is mine—it is the weakest, the simplest to learn. It holds nine levels. Master them, and your very existence will become a nightmare for your enemies.
The second inheritance also has nine levels, but each Vein grants only three. Its difficulty is far greater.
And the final inheritance… nine levels again, but divided among the last five Veins: each grants two, and the last Vein gives only one level—along with a will, or a message, whose contents I do not yet know.
He leaned closer.
— So tell me… will you enter the Vein first, o learn other techniques?
Shion hesitated. The trials outside were fast approaching—there might not be time to master the Art of Destruction. After a brief counsel with Shi Yun Lan, who sneered at his indecision yet strangely agreed, the youth said:
— Since you won't learn the art yet, I'll give you some trash techniques from my world. They'll suit you better.
Rage flared in Shion's chest. He longed to strike the arrogant boy down—but forced himself to wait. He would see the techniques first. To his astonishment, they numbered in the dozens:
Water techniques: Raindrop, Water Bomb...
Fire techniques: Burning Fist, Flame Claws...
Earth techniques: Stone Body, Earth Spikes...
Wind techniques: Raging Storm, Cutting Gale...
Darkness techniques: Shadow Body, Dark Raven, and many more.
But there was nothing of light. Alongside them, he found martial techniques and scrolls for body cultivation.
Raising his head towards the veins and circles around them, he asked:
— Can you tell me how this circle was formed?
Shi Yun Lan's lips curved into a knowing smile.
— Each circle is a path of laws and principles. The stars are power cores, channeling energy through these paths. The Veins at the center are pillars, conduits. Learn something new, and it resonates with the old, each reinforcing the other. Even without full understanding, your strength grows.
Shion absorbed every word. At last, he asked:
— Then… how strong is the first inheritance?
Shi Yun Lan only looked at him. Smiling. Silent. And then—he vanished.
Shion's blood froze suddenly, as if an unknown chill had pierced his heart. There was no wound, no cause—only the suffocating sense of death tightening around his soul. Darkness drew near, swallowing the lights around him, while a voice within whispered that the end was already here—faceless, formless… death born from the void itself.
Then, a chill pricked Shion's skin. His hand rose instinctively to his neck. A blade lay cold against it. Before he could speak, his head was severed cleanly from his body.
He awakened again, fury boiling.
— Even after a decade… you're still a damn bastard!
Unable to endure further, Shion withdrew. He returned home, where he shared dinner with his worried mother. Later, in the quiet of his room, he closed his eyes and whispered:
— Shi Yun Lan… let's learn a little more about you.
Without glancing at the boy's enigmatic smile, he stepped once more into his mind—straight into the First Vein.