The cave remains eerily silent, save for the ragged breaths tearing through De-Reece's lungs. His body trembles violently, overwhelmed by the backlash of reckless alchemy. The weight of his own exhaustion presses against him like a leaden shroud, his qi pathways unstable, burned from the forced infusion of his own life essence.
A sharp, acrid scent lingers in the stale air—the remnants of scorched herbs and spent qi. Blood crusts against his hands, dried in dark patches where he had crushed the pill with his very essence, sacrificing part of himself for the gamble. His head tilts against the cold rock behind him, consciousness slipping in and out between the pain and the haze of memory.
The rogue cultivator. The berserker pill. The fight.
Then—nothing.
A fragmented recollection of Solar lying still, his hands stained red, the world spinning before it collapsed into blackness.
His breath shudders as his gaze shifts.
Solar remains motionless a few feet away, her black fur a stark contrast against the pale stone. The luminous qi lines that once pulsed with vibrant energy now flicker weakly, their glow as fragile as dying embers. Her breath is faint, shallow. He fed her the bloodline pill, but she still hasn't stirred.
De's jaw tightens, his fingers curling into the torn fabric of his robes.
Was it enough?
A tremor runs through his hand as he reaches into his storage bag, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the second pill—the last remnant of his desperate effort. It sits heavy in his palm, rich crimson with delicate swirling pill lines, radiating potency. Even without consuming it, he can feel the sheer concentration of energy sealed within.
A single thought gnaws at him:
Should he take it?
The backlash from the alchemy has already left his meridians raw, his qi circulation unstable. If this pill is beyond spirit level, it could either reinforce his foundation… or shatter him completely.
But the temptation is there.
He is weaker than he wants to admit. A mere Qi Refinement cultivator had nearly ended him. Yes, he won. Yes, he had fought well. But in the grand scheme of power, he is still at the bottom. If this pill grants even a fraction of the strength he needs, then—
His fingers tighten around it.
Then, a twitch.
His head snaps up.
Solar's body tenses.
At first, it is barely noticeable—a shift in her claws, a slow, shallow inhale. But then—
A violent convulsion racks through her frame.
A surge of qi explodes outward, rippling through the cave like a thunderclap. De's instincts scream at him to move, to brace himself, but his exhausted body barely reacts before the impact of her awakening slams against his senses.
A violet aura flares around her, twisting through the air like living flame. The qi lines along her body, once dim, now blaze with an intensity unlike anything before, the deep violet hues shifting—no, evolving—into something greater. The very air trembles, vibrating in response to the awakening of something ancient.
Then, it happens.
Connection.
Not a sound. Not a whisper. But a pressure against the edges of his mind—a presence that reaches into him, through him.
Familiar, yet impossibly deeper.
A thread of something more.
"...De."
His breath catches.
Solar's body remains still, but he can feel her.
Not in the way a master senses his beast companion—but something more profound. A tether, intertwined and unbreakable, stretching beyond mere command or instinct.
A rush of violet light floods his vision.
Foreign emotions crash into him—awareness, recognition, understanding. Echoes of something far older, far deeper than the Solar he has known.
She is speaking.
Not aloud. Not with words.
Through their bond.
The link has changed.
"You… really are reckless."
Amusement laces the voice pressing against his thoughts, but beneath it lies something heavier, something grounded. Solar's words no longer carry the raw, instinctive nature of a spirit beast's intuition. They are structured, deliberate. A clarity that wasn't there before.
De swallows hard, his mind reeling. His voice is hoarse when he finally manages to speak. "You—" His throat is dry. "You can talk?"
Solar's eyes snap open.
Twin pools of golden-violet meet his gaze, glowing with an intensity he has never seen before. She rises slowly, movement fluid yet oddly foreign, as though rediscovering herself for the first time. As she finally locks onto him, the air shifts—
Something in the cave is different now.
"Not talk," the voice presses against his mind again, this time clearer. "But we are bound, you and I. And through that bond… I am no longer just what I was."
A chill runs through him.
Not of fear.
But of realization.
Solar has changed.
And he doesn't know if he is ready for it.
The cave hums with tension, the dying embers casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The acrid scent of burnt herbs and blood lingers, remnants of a desperate battle fought and a life barely saved. De-Reece slumps against the cool stone, his fingers trembling as he turns the deep crimson pill over in his palm.
Peak spirit-level? Perhaps even earthen? He has no way of knowing. But what he does know—what his body screams at him to remember—is what it cost to create.
Exhaustion presses down like an iron weight, his vision blurring at the edges. His meridians, raw from overuse, struggle to circulate his qi. His body, overdrawn and unbalanced, no longer responds the way it should. The reckless gamble of burning his own essence for alchemy has left his qi pathways unstable, unsteady.
And yet, none of that matters.
Solar still hasn't opened her eyes.
Her form remains still beside him, her breathing steady but faint. No wounds remain—no evidence of the brutal battle that nearly ended her—but her qi pulses differently now. Denser. Heavier. The presence of it clings to the air, more tangible than before, like something awakening just beyond his reach.
A change has taken place. He just doesn't know what it means yet.
His fingers tighten around the pill.
Should he take it?
He has already pushed himself beyond his limits. The berserker pill had nearly consumed him, and this one, even more potent, might either stabilize him… or tear him apart. The temptation lingers, a whisper at the edge of his thoughts. Strength is no longer an ambition—it is a necessity. If he had been stronger, the rogue cultivator wouldn't have pushed him this far. If he had been stronger, Solar wouldn't have suffered.
But his foundation is already shaking.
He exhales sharply and slides the pill back into his storage bag.
Not yet.
First, he must stabilize. The only thing worse than stagnation is rushing forward without a foundation strong enough to bear the weight of his own power.
A prickling sensation crawls across his skin, stirring him from his thoughts.
His eyes snap open.
Something is wrong.
De-Reece forces himself upright, his body still aching from overuse, but his qi circulation has recovered enough to move. The morning had been spent reinforcing the cave's formations, carving fresh inscription patterns into the stone. The old ones had been too weak—sloppy work left unchecked. That rogue cultivator had nearly walked straight through them.
He won't make the same mistake twice.
But then, Solar stirs.
Not a slow stretch. Not the careful, controlled movement of waking.
A sharp jolt.
Her violet eyes remain closed, but her voice pushes into his mind—not spoken aloud, not truly a voice at all, but a presence, a pressure against the edges of his consciousness.
"Someone's coming."
De-Reece stiffens.
His hand moves instinctively, fingers wrapping around the hilt of Cheon Ma Sin Gun's sword, its inscribed purple lines humming faintly in response to his touch.
He forces himself to his feet, suppressing the lingering ache in his muscles. Shadow Phantom Steps. His movements are smoother now, more refined. He is not fully healed. But he can move. He can fight.
"How many?" His thoughts press against their bond, uncertain if Solar will even understand.
A pause. Then, a pulse.
"One. Stronger than the last."
His grip tightens.
So it's not over.
Someone is searching for the rogue cultivator.
And they're close.
The formations he had placed outside flicker to life in his mind's eye, sending a silent warning—an alert to the presence just beyond the cave's veil. A shift in the air. The unmistakable disturbance of someone moving with purpose.
Outside, twigs snap beneath steady, unhurried footsteps.
A new player has entered the game.
And De-Reece is in no condition for a prolonged fight.
His options narrow. Hide. Flee. Fight.
But De-Reece never runs.