"You can't be serious. How could you hide something so vital from us? If you had only—"
"If I had told you beforehand, you would have prepared accordingly, right?" The Prophet interrupted, cutting the Knight Commander off mid-sentence.
The Prophet stepped closer, his voice dropping into that unsettlingly calm register. "That is exactly what we wanted to avoid. It is better that you know less, for your own sake. Just assume there were too many eyes watching; this was the safest path."
The Knight Commander exhaled a long, frustrated breath, his shoulders finally dropping. "Then what do you want us to do now?"
After a tense, private discussion, the Commander finally emerged from the shack. His men were waiting outside, hands hovering near their hilts. As soon as he appeared, they swarmed him with questions.
"Commander, are you alright?"
"That man felt suspicious."
"Did he disrespect you in any way?"
"Say the word, Commander—we won't tolerate it."
"Calm down, everyone," the Knight Commander said, raising a hand to silence the quarrel. "He is an old colleague. More importantly, our orders have shifted. Prepare to move out; we are leaving Gokul."
As they departed, the Prophet stepped out from the shadows, watching them leave. Another man stood beside him.
"His men seem fiercely loyal," the man observed.
"Let's see how much." the Prophet replied, a thin smirk playing on his lips.
[Dark Ruler's Castle]
"My lord… was it wise to let him deliver the message?" a man asked, kneeling on the cold marble. "You know their history."
"I know it well, High Counselor Vaelric," the Dark Ruler replied, his voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling followed by a low, cold laugh. "That is exactly why I chose him. The past holds the key to the future."
"You are the true Dark Lord my lord,"
Vaelric joined the laughter, a sycophantic sound that died out as the massive courtroom gates groaned open. The doors, fifty feet of reinforced iron, scraped against the stone floor with a deafening screech.
A shadow fell across the room. A figure nearly ten feet tall stepped into the dim light—bulky, armored, and radiating a suffocating pressure yet his face remained hidden within shadow.
"My lord, have you called for me?" the giant asked, kneeling with a thud that shook the floor.
"High Executor Draegor. Perfect timing," Vaelric said, turning toward the behemoth.
Draegor, a man who had earned his name by slaying a dragon single-handedly, narrowed his eyes. He hadn't even perceived Vaelric's presence from outside the doors.
"Grand Strategist. If you are present as well I assume this is a matter of gravity," Draegor rumbled.
"Indeed It concerns the Dark Lord," Vaelric said, his tone turning sharp. "You are to find something. Be silent, be swift, and do not be spotted. We must secure it before his arrival."
"And you know the cost of failure," the Dark Ruler added, his voice becoming a heavy, suppressing weight in the air. "It is not my offense you should fear, but the one who comes after."
Draegor's massive frame stiffened. "Y-yes, my lord. Your word is my command."
The Dark Ruler smirked, leaning back into his throne.
[In the Dungeon]
"I know we agreed not to interfere," Meera said anxiously, hovering above the battlefield. "But he's surrounded by Shadow Wolves. At least let me—"
"No," the Master said coldly. "If he dies here, then he was never meant to walk beyond this world."
Ajay didn't have the luxury of watching the spirits. His world had shrunk to the four pairs of glowing eyes surrounding him.
One on the left, two behind me, one in front, Ajay calculated, his heart drumming.
The lead wolf lunged. Ajay dodged right, but his eyes widened—a fifth wolf, perfectly camouflaged in the shadows, was already mid-leap.
'I didn't sense it at all…'
Shadow Wolves. They don't just move in the dark; they are the dark.
The wolf from the left leapt from above. Ajay increased his speed, slipped beneath it, and slashed upward, ripping through its stomach.
"Hah—got you!"
The injured wolf whined the pack howled in fury.
The remaining four jumped simultaneously. Ajay used a burst of speed to leap onto a nearby cliffside, but as the wolves turned to follow, he vanished.
War walk lightning speed technique.
He reappeared behind two of the wolves, ending them with a single, sweeping strike. But the exertion hit him like a physical blow.
Heaven-Cutting Single Sword technique.
I can't keep this up, he thought, gasping for air. Using Phantom Steps and the Heaven-Cutting technique together is draining my limit.
The final two wolves circled him.
Ajay tried to move—but his body lagged.
They struck.
He blocked, barely, and leapt back—but his landing failed. His body crashed against the stone.
Damn it… think!
Tiger Punch.
Risky—but efficient.
Ajay surged forward, driving his fist into the charging wolf. It was blasted back—but the final wolf adjusted instantly, slamming into Ajay and hurling him into a pile of rocks.
Pain exploded through his back.
The last wolf pinned him, its claws digging into his shoulders. Ajay held his sword vertically, blocking the snapping jaws, his left hand slick with blood from gripping the blade itself.
I'm going to pass out. I should have mastered the Thousand Kicking technique... I should have...
Suddenly, a memory of the Master's voice surfaced, clear as a bell.
"What you call qi," the Master had said, "was once known as Prāṇa—the breath of the universe itself."
"Qi is the life force that separates the living from the dead."
Ajay stood hunched over, hands on his knees, breath coming in ragged pulls. His arms burned. His legs felt like they had been filled with molten lead.
The Master watched him quietly.
"Tell me," he said at last, "what do you think qi is used for in battle?"
Ajay wiped sweat from his brow and thought for a moment.
"To… hit harder?" he ventured. "Move faster?"
The Master nodded once.
"Common answers. Shallow ones."
He stepped forward and picked up a pebble from the ground. It was small—harmless.
Without warning, he flicked his finger.
The pebble vanished.
A heartbeat later, BOOM.
A distant stone pillar exploded into fragments, the shockwave rippling the air. Dust rained down in silence.
Ajay's mouth fell open.
"That," the Master said calmly, "was not strength."
He turned back to Ajay.
"That was control."
Ajay swallowed. "You didn't even… move."
"Exactly."
The Master tapped his chest, just below the navel.
"Qi does not begin in the muscles. It begins here. The core. The reservoir. Your body is merely the channel."
He walked behind Ajay, placing two fingers lightly against his spine.
"When qi is scattered," he continued, "you become exhausted. When it is forced, you become injured. When it is uncontrolled—"
He pressed slightly harder.
"—you die."
Ajay stiffened.
"In battle," the Master said, circling him, "qi is not poured into a strike like water into a cup. That is what amateurs do. They burn everything at once and call it power."
He stopped in front of Ajay.
"A master threads qi."
Ajay blinked. "Threads…?"
The Master raised his hand. Qi stirred—not violently, but smoothly, like a river flowing beneath ice.
"Watch carefully."
He swung his hand.
No wind. No explosion.
Yet Ajay felt it.
The pressure struck his chest like an invisible wall, sending him skidding backward across the stone until he crashed onto his back, breath torn from his lungs.
The Master lowered his hand.
"That strike used less than one-tenth of my qi," he said.
Ajay lay there, stunned.
"In combat," the Master continued, "qi serves three purposes."
He raised one finger.
"Reinforcement. Your bones, muscles, skin. Without it, your body shatters before your enemy does."
A second finger.
"Projection. Strikes that do not require contact. Blades of qi. Waves. Bursts."
A third finger.
"And most important—intent."
Ajay frowned weakly. "Intent?"
The Master's gaze sharpened.
"Qi obeys the mind. A wild mind produces wild qi. A fearful heart produces fragile qi. In a real battle, your opponent does not fight your body."
He stepped closer, looming.
"He fights your will."
Ajay felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Something shifted deep within Ajay's abdomen. Beneath the pain, beneath the fear, he felt it—a coiled pressure. It wasn't an explosion; it was a release. Like a seal that had finally cracked after years of pressure.
Ajay gasped. His veins felt like they were filled with liquid fire. The heat raced along invisible paths—his arms, his legs, his spine. He screamed as his Qi Channels tore open for the first time.
The sensation was excruciating, yet intoxicating.
Reinforcement.
As the wolf's claws slammed down again, Ajay didn't dodge. He crossed his arms.
BOOM.
The impact sent a shockwave through the ground, but Ajay didn't break. His bones groaned, his skin burned, but the Qi weaved through his muscles like steel thread, holding him together.
The wolf recoiled, confused.
Ajay stood. Slowly. Every movement was agony, but beneath the pain was a new, terrifying stability. He took a step forward. His fist clenched, and the Qi followed his Intent.
Threaded. Not poured.
Ajay punched. The air cracked.
The blow landed squarely on the wolf's chest. Its obsidian-like fur shattered like glass. The creature was launched backward, crashing into the dungeon wall and dissolving into fragments of shadow.
Ajay dropped to his knees, coughing violently. He had done it.
As darkness crept into his vision, the Master's voice returned one last time.
"That is why I trained you until you collapsed. That is why you ran until your body screamed. Qi is a burden, Ajay. And only a body forged to endure it has the right to wield it."
Ajay smiled weakly, blood staining his teeth. So that's why...
He fell forward into the dirt. But this time, he didn't fall as a powerless boy. He fell as a warrior who had finally stepped onto the path.