"Yes... it's not like there's no chance..."
The crimson eye pulsed softly in the dim cavern. The Immortal's voice was calm, but tinged with something far heavier. "Each cultivation level... it's like filling a vessel with water. The vessel being the body, of course."
He raised a hand, and a red aura curled from his fingers, forming a translucent vase in midair. The vase slowly began to fill with a blood-red mist.
"Living beings progress as the 'water' fills up. Eventually, the vessel hits a threshold, and they break through. But no one ever fills it completely. Not really."
The red mist surged, pushing up to the brim of the vase. Then the vase trembled—and stretched. New grooves and golden patterns formed along its surface, and the inside expanded, holding even more mist.
"If—hypothetically—the vessel reaches its full capacity, and evolves to contain more... then no matter who or what the vessel is, the Law of Progression will take effect. Even a broken body. Even a shattered foundation."
The vase and the mist dissolved into the air. The Immortal sighed, a touch of longing in his expression.
"But that's all it is. A theory. A dream no one's ever realized."
Vikram didn't flinch. He'd heard enough dreams be crushed to pieces. But still... some part of him refused to let go. "What would that require?"
The Immortal looked down at him, eyes unreadable. "You'd need your own planet. One that harmonizes perfectly with your cultivation path. A few lives to experiment with, too—but lab rats won't do. You'd have to test everything on yourself. And..." he paused, "two or more cultivation paths that complement each other completely. Perfectly synchronized."
Vikram stood still, the words sinking in slowly, like stones thrown into a bottomless well.
The Immortal glanced at him, and then helplessly sighed.
It was really painful to watch.
Vikram forced a smile, though his eyes were quietly cracking. "Can you regroup me with my old party?"
The Immortal didn't speak, just closed his eyes. A moment later, a massive aura rippled outward, washing over the desert like a crimson tide. His eyes snapped open.
"They're heading toward the Natherine Empire."
Vikram nodded faintly.
"It's their best chance," the Immortal said, more to himself than anyone else. Blood-red energy shimmered around him again, making the entire desert shudder. Even the monsters buried deep beneath the sands retreated.
"Hey..." Vikram hesitated. "What's your name?"
The Immortal grinned, showing the faintest flash of sharp canines. "Reven,"
"Why didn't you escape earlier? That seal couldn't have held you forever."
The grin faded into something quieter. "This entire cave is an array. A Consent Array. It only releases me when a stranger willingly chooses to unseal me—after seeing everything I've done. I'm not a madman, Vikram. Not entirely."
The air trembled again as he lifted a hand.
"You're lucky you met me. Otherwise, you'd be bones in this sand."
And just like that, Vikram vanished.
He sprouted from the sand all of a sudden. Only his head stuck out, and he coughed, spitting grit from his mouth.
The Head Slave was the first to spot him. His daughter gasped, rushing over.
"Hey, old man!" Vikram groaned. "Give me a hand, will you?"
They stood outside the city walls, staring up at the gates of a bustling metropolis.
"We're finally here, huh?" Vikram said.
The Head Slave and his daughter looked at the city with undisguised longing, but their eyes kept drifting back to Vikram.
"Go on. What are you waiting for?" Vikram smiled and patted the old man's back, giving him a nod. Only then did they start moving.
The girl turned and gave Vikram an apologetic glance.
He waved with his one good hand.
But before he could relax, footsteps approached behind him.
He turned, and his smile vanished.
The Steward.
He looked half-dead, skin pale, spine twisted strangely under his clothes. But his eyes burned with something—rage, confusion, desperation.
And when he saw Vikram, he nearly lost control.
"Why... why did you want me dead, Young Master?" the Steward growled, like a caged beast. His breath came out ragged.
Vikram tilted his head. Calm. Unmoving. "Because you were the only one who didn't fit. The only one the big guy treated with a strange amount of respect. Too much respect."
He took a step back, glancing at the gates in the distance.
"There's a welcome party up there waiting to brand me a slave, isn't there?"
"When I first made plans to move against the big guy. There was something the Slave Head said. There is no way big guy has connections in this region, because he is one of the worst enemy of this empire."
"That got me thinking... How in our group is a Natherine? There were three people, a small child, a mother, and you. It didn't take time to figure out everything, my dear Steward..."
The Steward didn't answer. His body twitched as if something inside him was trying to move for him.
He lunged.
Vikram didn't hesitate. He slammed the stone—taken from the cave—directly into the Steward's skull. Bone cracked with a dull crunch.
The Steward collapsed.
And that's when Vikram saw it.
The bulge on the Steward's back—pulsing, shifting, almost alive—glowed with a kaleidoscope of sickening color. Then it burst.
A cloud of flesh-maggots, wet and writhing, spilled out. The creature that had latched onto the Steward's spine had finally lost its host.
Vikram didn't stay to look. He turned and ran, fast and far from the city gates, from the mess, from everything.
He kept running until his legs gave out.
He collapsed in the dunes, panting, mind reeling from it all.
Sleep took him quickly.
But he didn't notice that time had stopped.
And something was pulling him away—dragging him gently out of the world, like a dream being unraveled at the seams.
[You have survived your Walk.]
[You can now have a Way of Cultivation.]
[You have completed your First Walk, thus earning the right to an Inherent Ability.]
[...]
[...]
Vikram slowly opened his eyes.
The endless black void stretched around him like an empty sea, silent and cold. Floating notifications hovered before him—bright and stark against the darkness.
His pulse quickened as he read each line, hope flickering in his chest. This was the moment he'd dreamed of—the chance to gain something new, something to offset the curse that had held him back all his life.
Finally... finally, some compensation. Something that could balance the scales—an ability that could even out the cursed physique that had weighed him down since the very beginning.
He exhaled, bracing himself for what came next.
[Outside interference detected.]
Vikram froze.
What?
The glowing letters hung there, cold and ominous.
[Mother has revoked the interference.]
[Mother is negotiating.]
His heart sank. "No… no, no, no. Don't do this," he muttered, sitting up fully. "Not again."
The source was clear to him—the entity that had stolen his heart, that shadow always watching him. He didn't understand its motives, but he knew this was no coincidence.
[Mother has found a middle ground.]
[You will not receive an Inherent Ability.]
The cold truth hit him like a crushing weight.
Vikram's chest tightened, anger and despair clashing inside him.
"To hell with it all!"