The void stretched endlessly, an abyss shrouded in rolling mist. Amidst the darkness, a bead of black and white hovered in quiet suspension. Around it, ancient runes, intricate lines, and cryptic sigils flickered in and out of existence, like whispers from an unfathomable past.
"The Bead of Life and Death?" Dustin murmured, his voice a mere breath in the emptiness. His brows furrowed in realization. "But… wasn't it fused with my soul?"
A sudden understanding dawned upon him. "Could this be… my soul space?"
Before he could contemplate further, the bead pulsed with an eerie radiance. The surrounding runes and sigils spun into a vortex, spiraling inward like a devouring black hole. An immense force erupted forth, wrenching Dustin's consciousness into its depths.
The sensation was overwhelming. He drifted through a boundless cosmos, engulfed in a river of stars. The celestial tide swirled around him, waves of light rising and falling in rhythmic undulation.
A single point of light, pulsing like a distant star, caught his eye. Without hesitation, Dustin reached out—
Boom!
The universe trembled.
A world unfolded before him, barren and ancient. From the desolation, life stirred. Countless beings emerged, only to fade into death. Endless epochs passed—birth into death, death into life. An eternal cycle.
Fire.
It was the origin of vitality, yet the harbinger of destruction. To rise from the ashes was to be reborn. To consume all in its inferno was to perish.
Time lost its meaning.
When Dustin's awareness returned, he gasped, his body drenched in sweat. Though mere moments had passed in reality, within the Bead of Life and Death, it had felt like eons.
A strange heat coursed through his veins, rising within him like a living force. He lifted his gaze and met Maeve's eyes.
Boom!
Flames erupted from his body. His clothing turned to cinders in an instant, yet the fire did not harm him. Instead, it spread outward, leaping onto Maeve with a will of its own.
A startled cry escaped her lips as the flames devoured the fabric of her dress. Instinctively, she lashed out—a single, powerful kick striking Dustin squarely in the chest.
Crash!
Dustin was sent flying, a sharp pain lancing through his ribs as he crashed against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Dazed, he blinked.
Before him stood Maeve—flushed, furious, and utterly bare.
His breath hitched. A vision of ethereal beauty, her pale skin glowed like polished jade under the flickering firelight. Every delicate curve and contour—
"Don't look!"
Maeve's furious shriek shattered his daze.
Flustered, she hastily shielded herself, her embarrassment giving way to cold rage. Dustin, panicked, wrenched his gaze away, swallowing hard.
"Turn around!" she snapped, her voice clipped and demanding.
He obeyed at once, his heart hammering in his chest. Behind him, the rustle of fabric filled the tense silence.
Even as he struggled to clear his mind, the memory of the moment lingered—an unbidden image seared into his thoughts.
When Maeve finally spoke, her voice was composed but tinged with residual irritation. "Do you have spare clothing in your storage bracers?"
Dustin stiffened. "Uh… no. I don't."
The bracer on his wrist had been looted from Koel's corpse. He hadn't thought to stock it with anything as mundane as extra clothes.
A heavy sigh. "Here. Put this on."
Something soft landed against his back. Dustin hesitated before wrapping himself in the sheet Maeve had tossed to him. When he turned, she stood before him, now clad in a deep red gown. Dark hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, her cheeks tinged with residual warmth.
For a fleeting moment, she studied him, her expression unreadable. Then, she exhaled. "I apologize."
Dustin blinked. "For…?"
"For the kick."
Ah. That. He glanced at his chest—already bruising but manageable. "It's fine."
His gaze flickered toward Maeve's heart. Even through her robes, he could see it—an intricate weave of energy, her lifeline, once tainted by affliction.
Sensing his scrutiny, Maeve tensed. "That flame… what was it? My body. "
She hesitated, her voice faltering.
Dustin considered his words. "I… absorbed some of the flame from your heart, Teacher Maeve." He paused. "But my cultivation is still weak. I could only take in part of it. Your condition isn't cured yet."
A shadow passed over her face. But before she could succumb to disappointment, Dustin continued.
"However, if I do this a few more times, I think I can completely heal you."
Maeve's eyes widened, a spark of hope igniting within them. "Truly?"
Dustin nodded. "I'll need time. My body can only take so much at once, but if I absorb the flames gradually."
He trailed off as an image surfaced in both their minds—the fire, their clothes turning to ash, skin against skin…
Maeve's face darkened. "Let's… not dwell on the details."
Dustin coughed awkwardly, adjusting the sheet around himself.
After a brief silence, Maeve turned to leave. "Wait here. I'll fetch you some proper clothes."
Dustin watched her go, dazed. She smiled just now. He realized, for the first time, how breathtaking she truly was.
But he shoved the thought aside. Wrapped in a bedsheet, he sank into meditation, focusing inward.
The results were astonishing.
His inner energy surged, purer and denser than ever before. His blood pulsed with newfound vigor. His cultivation had skyrocketed.
"The ninth level of Body Refinement?"
He opened his palm. A flicker of flame ignited—crimson and alive. Heat rippled through the air.
Fire attribute energy.
His heart pounded. Body Refinement cultivators weren't supposed to wield elemental energy. That power was reserved for warriors who had reached the Innate Realm. And yet—
His flame flickered. White, brimming with vitality. Then black, ominous and cold.
The Fire of Life. The Fire of Death.
Two extremes of the same force.
Something deeper had awakened within him.
As he pondered his newfound power, Maeve returned, handing him a set of black combat attire. Dustin dressed swiftly, donning his sword once more.
"In seven days," he said, fastening his belt. "I'll return to help you again."
Maeve hesitated, then murmured, "Call me Maeve. I'm twenty-one—not much older than you."
Dustin blinked. "Then… Sister Maeve?"
A pause. Then, "Do as you wish. Just don't call me 'Teacher' again."
—
Dressed in black, sword strapped to his back, Dustin left for the Eight Wonders Mountains.
He had one goal: Strength.
Through battle and bloodshed, his swordsmanship sharpened. Days turned into weeks. He pushed himself beyond limits, perfecting his techniques until each strike was a force of nature.
Monsters fell before his blade. The mountains became his training ground. And when he returned to Novaridge, it would be to claim the power he had glimpsed in the fire.