Ming's body still trembled from the system's reconstruction, but the pain had dulled to an ember beneath his skin. His breathing steadied, though each inhale carried the faint metallic sting of blood.
Slowly, carefully, he rose to his feet. His limbs felt heavier than before, yet sharper too like a blade reforged in fire. The system's expansion had left him stronger, faster, more attuned, but it had not spared him the scars of its awakening. He flexed his hands, still feeling phantom sparks of agony racing along his nerves.
The silence of the Veil pressed in again, endless and suffocating. Yet beneath that stillness, something felt wrong.
The ground shuddered.
Cracks of pale light split across the void, jagged lines that fractured the darkness like shattered glass. The air warped, tearing violently at the edges of his form, distorting everything in sight.
[Warning: Rift Instability Detected.]
[Collapse Imminent.]
Ming clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing.
"Damn… I stayed here too long."
The Veil convulsed as if reality itself were unraveling. Ahead, through the distortion, a faint glow pulsed unnatural, alive. It tugged at his soul with every heartbeat, beckoning him forward.
He sprinted, body straining against the collapsing weight of the void. Every step felt like dragging himself through quicksand as the Veil threatened to swallow him whole. The pulsing light grew clearer, until at last he saw it: a shard suspended in midair, vibrating with a resonance that made his very soul ache.
[Item Acquired: Soul Shard.]
The moment his hand closed around it, the shard thrummed violently. A surge of power rushed into him—but then halted abruptly, as if caught behind a locked gate. It refused to merge, a storm of strength chained just beyond his reach.
[Notice: Host's level insufficient. Soul Shard cannot be integrated.]
The shard dissolved into his inventory, leaving only silence in its wake. Ming exhaled through gritted teeth.
"Too weak… for now."
The Veil roared as the collapse reached its peak. The ground beneath him fractured into fragments of light and shadow, folding in on themselves like dying stars.
[Extraction Initiated.]
His vision twisted, torn apart by the system's pull, and the Veil of Silence vanished in a storm of nothingness.
Ming collapsed onto solid ground, chest heaving, his breath ragged. Relief hit him in a sharp wave. I made it out alive.
For a moment, he lay there, staring at the faint shimmer of the inventory screen that floated before his weary eyes. The Soul Shard's description unfolded in glowing text:
[Description: Can slightly increase system level when sync is complete. Or use it to expand your territory.]
"Territory… what's that supposed to mean?" he muttered, brows furrowing. The word was unfamiliar, alien. Whatever it meant, he wasn't ready for it yet. His body was too battered, his mind too frayed.
He pushed himself up, still weary, and decided. I need to get back to the Carven. Rest first. Then plan my next move.
The journey back was quiet. The storm of the Veil had been replaced by the faint hum of the system pulsing inside him, steady but faint. Each step felt heavier than it should, his muscles sore but alive. Finally, the Carven came into view a shelter carved into the world's silence, rough but safe.
He stumbled inside and collapsed onto the crude bed. Sleep claimed him instantly.
---
Hours later, what passed for sunlight in the Carven stirred him awake. His wounds had closed, his body restored, and the system's new enhancements thrummed faintly under his skin. He rose slowly, flexing his limbs. Strength pulsed through him, steadier than before.
His eyes fell on a nearby tree outside the Carven. He clenched his fist, testing the power coursing through him. Without hesitation, he drove his knuckles forward.
CRACK.
The bark splintered instantly, a hole forming in its trunk. Ming stepped back, stunned. I… I'm this strong now?
Excitement chased away the remnants of exhaustion. He struck again, then again, each punch cracking the wood, sending branches snapping and dust scattering into the air.
Sweat beaded across his forehead as he grinned. "Alright… let's see how far I can push this."
He threw himself into a routine, punching tree after tree, testing every ounce of his strength. His fists grew sharper with each strike, his body more controlled. He shifted from raw strength to speed, his movements carving through the air. Every swing forced him to adjust his stance, refine his balance, sharpen his focus. The forest echoed with thudding blows, bark flying with each impact.
For the first time since the Veil, Ming felt in control. The system was no longer something foreign lodged in his soul. It was a part of him growing, adapting, evolving. With each strike, his resolve deepened.
And deep inside, Ming knew: this was only the beginning.
He shifted his training, testing more than brute force. His strikes grew faster, sharper. He weaved between trees, fists darting like blades, each movement controlled. His breath grew ragged, sweat soaking into his clothes, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
Then he let his senses expand. Soul Sense flickered at the edge of his awareness, like a dim light in his mind. At first, it was calm—scanning the empty forest, registering only silence and the echo of his movements.
Then, suddenly
A spike.
Cold killing intent surged, sharp and suffocating, rushing toward him with terrifying speed.
Ming froze, his eyes narrowing. His nerves screamed as the pressure of death pressed in on him. His reflexes reacted before thought could catch up. He darted sideways, snatching a fallen log from the ground just as the attack came.
WHOOSH CRASH!
A wave of slashing force tore through the space he had just been standing. He slammed the log against the strike, the impact rattling his bones and sending a violent shock up his arms. He rolled backward, steadying his breathing.
Through the shaking trees, he saw it.
A rogue spirit.
Its form was jagged and twisted, shadowy tendrils writhing like living smoke. Its claws gleamed like blades, slicing the air with unnatural speed. Its eyes burned like molten coal, locked on him with hunger and hatred.
Ming's heart raced. The Pawn had been deadly but this? This spirit was faster, smarter, more lethal. The raw pressure of death radiated from it, pressing down on him like an invisible hand crushing his chest.
He clenched his fists. I wasn't ready for this. But I don't have a choice.
He scanned the clearing in an instant:
Trees for cover.
Fallen logs for defense.
Open ground for movement.
The rogue spirit lunged, claws slashing like lightning. Ming ducked low, rolled, and slammed another log into its path. Bark splintered, dust exploding around them. His Soul Sense flared again, painting the next strike into his mind before it even landed. Speed, angle, intent all laid bare before him.
Every step became calculation. Every swing became survival. He could feel his nerves tightening, his instincts sharpening.
Brute strength wouldn't be enough. He had to adapt. Exploit the terrain. Think three steps ahead or die.
His eyes narrowed, determination flaring. I survive. I adapt. I grow stronger.
The spirit hissed and lunged again, claws cutting arcs of death through the air. Ming sidestepped with sudden speed, coiling his body for a counter. His movements grew precise, his breathing steady despite the chaos.
But the rogue spirit was relentless. Every strike was sharper, faster, hungrier. One mistake, one hesitation, and it would end him.
Ming tightened his stance, his will hardening into steel. In that moment, he made a silent vow:
I will not die here. Not until I've killed every last one of those bastards who caused me pain.
The rogue spirit screeched, lunging once more. And Ming met it head-on, resolve burning hotter than fear.