Anthony bent his knees slowly, the muscles in his legs tightening like coiled steel springs. The energy drink he had just consumed surged through his veins, filling his body with a heat that felt alive, as if every cell was burning with potential. His heartbeat slowed, not from calm, but from focus. The world around him seemed to narrow, the edges of his vision sharpening as his mind locked onto a single direction.
North.
That was where the temple was.
The Grand Styler climbed onto his back, her movements light and practiced. Even so, Anthony could feel her presence clearly—the shift in balance, the added weight, the subtle change in how the air pressed against his body. He adjusted his stance without thinking, instinctively compensating for her position. His feet dug slightly into the ground, toes curling against the dirt as if gripping the earth itself.
For a moment, everything went quiet.
The wind held its breath.
The forest seemed to lean inward.
Even the distant sounds of insects faded into silence.
Anthony closed his eyes briefly and drew in a slow breath, feeling the power circulating inside him. It was overwhelming, yet strangely natural, as though his body had always been meant to contain this level of strength.
"Three," he said softly.
The air around his legs rippled, pushed outward by the pressure building within his muscles. Fine cracks formed in the ground beneath his feet, thin lines spreading outward like veins in stone. Pebbles rattled and jumped as if reacting to a tremor deep underground.
"Two."
The Grand Styler tightened her grip, her fingers digging lightly into the fabric of his clothes. Her breathing grew shallow, her senses stretching outward in preparation for the violent movement to come. She had traveled with powerful warriors, had witnessed feats of speed and strength that normal humans would consider impossible—but what she felt from Anthony now was different. His power was raw, uncontrolled, as though he were not merely moving through the world but forcing the world to move around him.
"One."
The moment the word left his lips, the earth screamed.
The ground beneath Anthony's feet shattered violently, exploding outward in a cloud of dust and broken stone. The shockwave rippled across the land, flattening grass and sending loose rocks skidding across the surface. The air itself seemed to tear apart as Anthony launched forward, his body becoming a blur of motion.
The world vanished.
Wind roared past his ears with a deafening howl, ripping at his clothes and skin like a living storm. The ground beneath him disappeared into streaks of color, forests and hills blurring into meaningless shapes as distance collapsed beneath his speed. It felt as though the sky itself were bending, stretched thin by the force of his movement.
The Grand Styler clung to him, her heart pounding in her chest. The pressure of the wind pressed against her body from every direction, making it difficult to breathe. Even her trained senses struggled to process what was happening around them. The land beneath them seemed to fold and unfold in rapid succession, as if reality itself were stuttering under the strain of Anthony's movement.
This wasn't running.
This wasn't jumping.
This was tearing through space.
Anthony laughed, a breathless sound carried away by the wind.
"I feel… unreal," he said, his voice barely audible over the roaring air. "It's like the world can't keep up with me."
The sensation was intoxicating. Every movement felt effortless. His muscles responded instantly to his thoughts, his body flowing forward as if guided by instinct rather than effort. The weight of the Grand Styler on his back barely registered. It was as though gravity itself had loosened its grip on him.
He angled his body slightly, adjusting his trajectory toward the north. The clouds above them shredded apart as they passed beneath, torn into wisps by the violent currents of air trailing in their wake. The atmosphere warped around them, bending and rippling like water disturbed by a speeding blade.
For a brief moment, a reckless thought crossed his mind.
If I jumped straight up like this… I might actually reach the clouds. Maybe even higher.
The idea sent a strange thrill through him, but he pushed it aside. Now wasn't the time for foolish experiments. He had a destination.
As they raced forward, the terrain began to change.
The dense forest thinned, the towering trees giving way to rocky ground and barren stretches of land. The colors of the world dulled, greens fading into gray and brown. The air grew heavier, pressing against Anthony's chest with an invisible weight. It wasn't heat or cold. It was something else—something that felt like being watched.
A faint pressure settled over his senses.
Not physical.
Spiritual.
His instincts flared.
Then he saw it.
Ahead, standing alone against the bleak landscape, was an old, church-like structure. Its walls were cracked and worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. The roof sagged inward, portions of it collapsed entirely. Moss and vines clung to the stone, creeping along the walls like veins on dead flesh. The windows were dark hollows, staring back at the world with empty, lifeless eyes.
Even from a distance, the structure felt wrong.
"That's it," the Grand Styler said, her voice tight with caution. "The temple."
Anthony slowed abruptly.
The sudden change in speed caused the air around them to erupt in a violent backlash. It felt as though an invisible wall had slammed into his back, forcing his momentum downward. Smoke burst from the soles of his shoes as friction screamed against the ground. The earth beneath them groaned under the force of his descent, cracks racing outward from the point of contact.
For a split second, the impact threatened to throw them forward.
Anthony reacted instantly.
His mind flooded with calculations—speed, angle, weight, pressure. He adjusted his posture mid-landing, bending his knees just enough to absorb the remaining force while shifting his center of gravity to keep the Grand Styler stable on his back. The ground trembled beneath them, but they did not fall.
They landed.
The dust slowly settled around their feet.
Silence followed, thick and unnatural.
The Grand Styler slid down from his back, her legs unsteady for a moment before she regained her balance. Her eyes were wide, her breath slightly uneven.
Is this really him? she thought.
The one Master told me to protect?
This power… it doesn't feel human. It feels like standing beside a legend pulled straight from an anime. Like the Immortal King Shingwu himself.
Anthony straightened, rolling his shoulders as the last traces of momentum faded from his body.
"You can get down now," he said calmly, as if they had not just crossed an impossible distance in a single leap.
The temple loomed before them.
Up close, it felt even more oppressive.
The air around the structure was thick, heavy, pressing against Anthony's skin like an invisible weight. A strange power seeped from the ancient stone, not violent but persistent, like a presence that refused to fade with time. It was the kind of power that existed simply because it had always existed, old and patient and unyielding.
Anthony took a slow step forward.
The moment his foot touched the ground closer to the temple, a faint chill ran up his spine.
"There's power here," he said quietly. "Strong power. But there's danger mixed in with it."
The Grand Styler nodded, her gaze fixed on the dark entrance.
"This place is not empty," she said. "Whatever remains here has not slept."
The wind died.
The forest behind them fell silent.
No birds.
No insects.
No distant rustling of leaves.
It felt as though the world itself had gone still, waiting.
Anthony tightened his grip around the sword in his hand. The metal felt colder now, faintly vibrating in response to the pressure in the air. His instincts screamed, warning him that something was about to happen.
"Brace yourself," he said, his voice low. "Something's coming."
The ground trembled.
Boom.
The sound echoed from deep within the temple, slow and heavy, as if something massive were dragging itself across stone.
Boom.
Each step sent vibrations through the ground and into Anthony's legs. Dust fell from the cracks in the temple walls, drifting lazily through the air. Tiny pebbles rolled across the ground, clattering softly as they shifted from the tremor.
Boom.
The footsteps grew closer.
The Grand Styler lowered her stance, her body coiling like a drawn bow. Her breathing slowed, her senses stretching outward as she focused entirely on the dark entrance of the temple. Every instinct in her screamed danger.
Then—
Two flaming eyes opened within the darkness.
They burned like molten embers in a furnace, cutting through the shadows with unnatural brightness. The air around them seemed to warp and ripple from the heat they radiated. The pressure in the space around Anthony intensified, pressing down on his chest, making each breath feel heavier than the last.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
Not from pure fear—but from the shock of facing something unknown and powerful.
The eyes stared at him.
Unblinking.
Judging.
Ancient.
The darkness behind them shifted, and a massive shadow moved within the temple, its outline barely visible against the gloom. The ancient structure groaned softly, stone creaking as though awakened from a long sleep.
The ground trembled again.
Boom.
Boom.
The presence drew closer to the entrance.
Anthony swallowed, his grip on the sword tightening until his knuckles whitened. The blade vibrated faintly in his hand, as if responding to the overwhelming presence before them.
His voice tore from his throat.
"What the hell is that?!" Anthony screamed.
The flaming eyes flared brighter, illuminating the edges of the massive shadow behind them.
The darkness stirred.
And whatever stood within the temple was not something meant to be seen by ordinary humans.
To be continued…