Leaving the dead cultists behind, I burst outside. Something one of them had said was bothering me. "Yo-Tug will flatten them." Who was this Yo-Tug? Given how confident they'd sounded, he was at least third stage. Maybe even fourth.

  Fifth, I doubted. You could count masters of that caliber in our region on one hand. They either moved to the inner rings or gave up their Ascension entirely. At least from my conversations with Mia, I hadn't heard of any warriors on the outer rings above the first stage of the ninth step. That was the ceiling you could reach out here, given how little energy there was. Even a lifetime of accumulation wouldn't be enough to break through to the second stage of the ninth step on the outer rings.

  Still, third stage was serious. Could a second-stage practitioner take one down? Yes — if they had superior experience. The gap in techniques and raw power couldn't be too large. But did Mia have that kind of experience?

  I had enough experience for an army. But this body... I'd made it tougher, gotten somewhat used to the coordination and movement, but it was still my greatest weakness. And it was definitely not the kind of body you'd willingly take into a fight against someone who could use combat arts. On the other hand, the focus meant I wasn't totally helpless anymore. I had a few surprises.

  I heard the sounds of fighting before I saw anything, and ran toward the noise. Mia was fighting two cultists at once, and the odds were decidedly not in her favor. Her left arm was bleeding and hanging limp at her side, while she used her right to deflect their attacks with her sword.

  "Not bad for a little bitch!" one of the cultists cackled.

  "We need to kill her clean — keep the body intact. I've got plans for it," the other laughed.

  They were toying with her, moving in sync, almost perfectly coordinated. There was no way Mia could counterattack, especially not with that wound.

  "Bastards..." I growled and slipped into the nearby bushes.

  At least one advantage of this body — I was small and hard to spot. These two were so absorbed in the fight they apparently hadn't even activated combat meditation and didn't notice me coming. I waited for the right moment, then lashed out with the whip. It coiled around the sword arm of the cultist attacking Mia.

  "What the—" He barely had time to register it before I yanked. The whip tightened with a crunch and took his arm clean off.

  He staggered back screaming, staring in disbelief at the stump where his arm used to be. The second one was already turning, spotting me. Well, too bad for him.

  I pulled the whip back, rushing forward. The cultist thrust at my head — but it was obvious he wasn't prepared to fight someone this small. His technique had clearly been drilled against opponents of equal or larger build. Still, I couldn't dodge completely. The blade nicked me just above the temple, splitting the skin. But I didn't even notice. When you get torn apart on a daily basis, you learn to ignore pain.

  What I did manage was to close the distance and strike at his opening — the leg. But this one was quicker than the last two, and before I could loop the whip around his limb, his knee slammed into my face.

  Block.

  I got my arms up at the last second, but the hit was still brutal. God, I hated being weak again.

  "Nate!" Mia screamed.

  The impact launched me into the air and sent me tumbling several meters, but I managed to land on my feet. My arms throbbed — far worse than the scratch on my head. Lucky I'd spent so long strengthening this body. Without that, the blow would've shattered every bone.

  But the danger only excited me. I'd forgotten how thrilling it was — fighting for your life.

  "You little runt! How dare you?!" snarled the one who'd dodged my attack. Meanwhile, the one-armed cultist pulled something from his spatial ring and shoved it in his mouth. Probably a medicinal pill — stops bleeding, kills pain. But Mia didn't give him time to recover. She attacked from behind. Unfortunately, the cultist sensed it and parried with a sword he'd picked up. Still, I didn't need to worry about her anymore. They'd been roughly equal before — but that was when the man had both arms. His left-hand swordsmanship was sloppy, and he couldn't execute any of his practiced techniques. Unlike Mia.

  But I had my own problems. The second cultist was definitely second stage, tenth step, and fully capable of basic techniques — which he promptly demonstrated.

  He leaped at me, sword swinging, and the blade seemed to split in two at the moment of impact. Either one could be the real strike.

  Trying to block both was impossible with my speed and strength. Blocking one was a fifty-fifty coin flip. No thanks — I wasn't gambling like that. I just dropped flat on my back, letting both swords pass over me. With my tiny frame, it was absurdly easy.

  I rolled right while the opponent tried a wild backhand slash. The blade might have reached me, but I held the whip out in front. The sword struck sparks off the enchanted weapon but didn't cut through. Lucky.

  This time I struck back, exploiting the gap in distance and the fact he hadn't fully turned. The cultist tried to jump back but was too slow. The tip of the whip caught him across the face, slicing his cheek and eye.

  Don't underestimate me.

  While he reeled, I charged forward, shifting right into his blind spot. I jumped, twisting the whip mid-air, and looped it around his neck.

  "Kh—!"

  I landed on his back, dug my feet in, and pulled both ends of the whip tight, making an improvised garrote.

  "Kh-kh... akh..." he wheezed, blindly swinging the sword behind him. One thrust nearly connected — the tip grazed my shoulder.

  "How about this?" I pushed energy into the whip. It flared with crimson light, and the choking stopped. A little more force, and the cultist's head hit the ground. His body thudded down next to it a second later.

  I immediately turned inward, checking how much energy I had left. The answer was grim — barely a third. The body reinforcement and feeding the whip had drained me badly. Though what did I expect from a freshly formed focus?

  I looked over at Mia and relaxed a little. She was standing over the one-armed cultist's body, breathing hard. Looked like the lord of luck was on her side today. But the relief vanished the moment I saw the way she was looking at me. Shock. And something close to fear.

  "Nate... How... How did you do that? How is it even possible that—"

  Right. I was almost six, with a barely formed focus. Having one didn't automatically make you a fighter — that took training and a lot of practice. The way I'd moved and fought was not normal for a child. And someone my age definitely wasn't supposed to kill without blinking.

  "I can explain..." I offered with a slightly guilty smile, but before Mia could respond, we both felt it — an overwhelming wave of bloodlust. Before I could react, a massive figure dropped from above and landed right next to my sister.

  Credit to Mia — her body reacted on pure instinct. She raised her sword to block, and a huge metal club crashed into it. At the same time she tried to retreat, but it wasn't enough. The force and speed were such that the sword shattered into fragments, and Mia was hurled fifteen meters through the air. Her body tumbled across the ground, and she didn't get up.

  "MIA!" I screamed, ready to sprint to her — but caught myself just in time.

  The new enemy straightened up and looked directly at me with pale, milky eyes.

  A Revenant.

  Where the hell did a Revenant come from — and one this powerful?

  Until now, I'd only heard about them in children's scary stories. Chloe had been particularly fond of those, using them to terrify me. And now I was face to face with one.

  Huge — nearly eight feet tall. Pale skin with a bluish tint. An expressionless face and a glassy, empty stare. A reanimated corpse, raised by some extremely powerful cultist.

  How strong was it? Third stage? Fourth? Or had it reached the peak — a full master? Either way, it was leagues beyond Mia, and by extension, leagues beyond me. Did I have even a single chance?

  If this were a living practitioner, I'd probably have said no. Strength plus experience is a terrifying combination. But when your enemy is something resurrected through forbidden arts, the equation changes. This thing had no experience. Only power. And power alone often isn't enough.

  Yes. I could kill it.

  "Hey, big guy! Over here! What — scared of a kid?!" I shouted, and the brute lunged forward. Fast. Way too fast. Only because I'd expected roughly this kind of reaction did I manage to leap aside. The Revenant couldn't brake, blew right past me, and crashed into a nearby house.

  It roared and swung the massive club, demolishing the wall. Apparently it didn't appreciate the obstacle. What can I say — dumb creature. Strong, but dumb. And that was my chance. I couldn't face it head-on — the gap in Ascension was too wide. But with cunning and knowledge, I could tip the scales.

  The Revenant, done with the wall, lumbered toward me — unhurried now, as if it no longer expected me to run. So this was the Yo-Tug those guys had mentioned. Even ten fighters like Mia probably couldn't have taken it down. The gap was too large. You'd need a master — a warrior at the maximum fifth stage of the tenth step.

  I took the trophy dagger and lashed it to the end of the trophy whip.

  "All right, big guy. Let's see what you're made of," I grinned, spinning the dagger and sidestepping at the same time.

  Good timing. The Revenant surged forward again, and the club slammed into the spot where I'd just been standing, cratering the earth. Fast on the charge, slow on the turn. Some special technique the host had used when alive? Possible.

  While it wrenched the club from the small crater, I flung the whip-tethered dagger. It hit the Revenant's arm, but... didn't pierce the skin. Barely scratched it. Bad news. I kept running, trying to circle behind it while reeling the dagger back. But of course it didn't give me the chance. It turned slowly and swung a lazy horizontal strike — too sloppy. The club sailed over my head, ruffling my hair. Didn't even need to duck.

  I pulled back, attacking from the side. I spun the whip, landing blow after blow while dodging its swings. Circling it the way I always did with stronger opponents, trying to wear it down. But that was a bad strategy against the walking dead.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  And I clearly lacked the firepower.

  Roll, roll, spin the whip, slash with the dagger on the end.

  I was getting somewhere. Slowly, but getting there. Fresh wounds kept appearing on the thing's body. The problem was — it was a corpse. A living person would've been bleeding out by now.

  The good news was that the creature wasn't smart. It moved in predictable patterns that my experience made easy to read. Often it just swung the club mindlessly, not even attempting techniques.

  Meanwhile, I was saving up for a decisive strike. I gathered every scrap of power I had and channeled energy into the weapon. If this worked, the thing would become far less dangerous. When the Revenant charged again, I seized the opening — slid low, looped the whip around its leg. I tried to repeat the trick from the headless cultist. Cut off the leg, slow the Revenant down, then finish it off.

  The whip blazed with demonic flame. I pulled with everything I had, trying to sever the limb, but... I'd gotten too cocky. The undead's skin smoked slightly, but I couldn't see the whip sinking into the flesh at all.

  Too tough.

  The realization came too late. In the next instant, the Revenant flicked its leg.

  I couldn't do a thing except curl up mid-flight, which ended with a painful landing. I must have blacked out from the impact, because when I came to, I was lying against some building — pretty sure I'd gone straight through the wall. A miracle I was still breathing. But the pain was intense, and every breath was agony, which meant broken ribs at minimum.

  Through blurred vision, I caught movement nearby. Took effort to focus.

  That goddamn Yo-Tug. Standing there like nothing had happened. I'd thought my first attacks hadn't been strong enough, that my arms weren't tough enough. But no. This thing had used some kind of body-hardening technique when it was alive — iron skin or something similar. That explained the minimal damage even from a demonic weapon. If I'd been at least third stage, it would've worked. But with a nearly depleted focus, the plan had been doomed from the start.

  I'd gotten too soft. Spent too much time surrounded by kids. Gone too easy on myself. And with that came overconfidence — the arrogance of someone who'd once possessed the power to crush even Ramuil.

  "The Spiral doesn't suffer arrogant fools."

  Yeah, teacher. I'd almost forgotten that one.

  At first I thought the Revenant would come for me. Instead, the hulk turned around and trudged toward Mia at an unhurried pace, dragging its club behind it.

  No no no no...

  Panic hit me, but—

  "The mind must stay cold. Panic has never helped anyone."

  Yes. Your lessons are saving me again, teacher.

  Wincing through the pain, I propped myself up on one arm — only then noticing the other was broken, somewhere near the shoulder. And that's when my eyes fell on the dagger. The same one I'd tied to the whip. The whip itself had apparently snapped, but the dagger had survived, lying about six feet away.

  And what good was a dagger? I couldn't pierce the Revenant's skin with it, especially not in my current state. I couldn't even stand up, let alone—

  But the thought was cut short by the faint glow of the stone in its pommel.

  Right.

  The stone. Why hadn't I thought of it immediately?

  This weapon drained life energy from its victims, storing it in the stone. Right now there were at least several human lives' worth of energy inside. Maybe more? I remembered vividly how terrifying the wielder of the Soul Devourer had been — how effortlessly Sangranir healed even the worst wounds using stolen life force.

  But could I use it the same way? The stone didn't seem to have fed energy back to the dagger's owner. What if it wasn't about the stone but the dagger itself? Most likely there were runes inscribed on it that only absorbed life. Could I use the stone without the dagger?

  Did it even matter?

  If I didn't do something, Mia would die, and I'd probably follow. They'd put this thing down eventually, but not before it killed a lot more people. I didn't survive two centuries of hell and kill Ramuil just to die at the hands of some zombie.

  No. I was going to kill it.

  Kill it, then get stronger, enter the inner rings, and find my teacher.

  I crawled toward the dagger, ignoring the pain. Finally it was in my hands, and I tried to pry the stone loose. No luck — it was set too firmly. But looking more closely at the hilt, I spotted the demonic runes.

  I needed something to lever the stone out.

  I looked around and found an ordinary rock of just the right shape. Grabbed it and struck the hilt as hard as I could, aiming the corner right at the gem. Again. Again.

  The Revenant had reached Mia. It grabbed her by the hair and started lifting her off the ground.

  No! No! No!

  Another strike.

  And another.

  The rock crumbled from the impact, but it had done its job. The energy-filled sphere popped free from its setting and rolled across the ground. I caught it, squeezed it in my hand, and without hesitation shoved it in my mouth.

  A concentrate of pure energy works miracles. I felt an enormous torrent of power flood into me. I spent a couple of seconds trying to contain it, then channeled it through my recently formed meridians, opening power nodes as I went.

  Node of the Endless Blade.

  Node of the Dance on the Edge.

  Node of Arboreal Calm.

  Node of the Mountain Ascent.

  Node of the Light Step.

  Node of the Carefree Life.

  You bastards... How many people did you destroy? This power... It wasn't a handful of lives like I'd thought. It was dozens. I could feel at least thirty distinct signatures of energy flowing through my meridians.

  My wounds were healing. I picked up the trophy dagger and, using my fingernail and the energy pouring out of me, burned two new runes into the hilt.

  Mia regained consciousness and screamed at the sight of the monster. She tried some kind of hand-to-hand technique, but the Revenant didn't even flinch. It just raised the struggling girl higher. Whatever it planned to do with her, I wasn't going to allow it.

  Now I could use the Sliding Wind stepping technique that Mirion had taught me. It only required the Light Step and Mountain Ascent nodes. Fast as the wind, I closed the distance, channeling energy into the dagger.

  One swing, and a blazing blade — five feet long — sliced through the Revenant's flesh like it was nothing.

  "DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY FAMILY!"

  Mia dropped to the ground along with the severed arm. I pressed the attack, becoming a phantom for split seconds at a time.

  The Revenant roared and swung its club — and missed. I was too fast. I slipped past its strike effortlessly and slashed at the undead, but the monster blocked with the club. I couldn't cut through the metal — only left a notch.

  The Revenant countered, but I didn't even bother dodging. I used a protective veil instead. An energy barrier formed at my side, absorbing most of the impact.

  "Is that all you've got?!" I snarled, charging forward.

  Amber Technique of the Demonic Blade. A Thousand Cuts!

  Lunge, slash — and then I was standing behind the Revenant, breathing hard. My skin burned. My insides burned from the overload. But what did it matter? I'd won.

  The glowing blade vanished, leaving me holding an ordinary silver dagger. Behind me, the undead simply fell apart into dozens of small pieces.

  Power surged through me. God, how I'd missed this feeling — the freedom that strength brings.

  But the moment of euphoria was crushed by total despair. Something inside me tore, and I dropped to my knees, coughing up blood.

  "That's impossible," Mia Crane whispered, watching her little brother effortlessly destroy a Revenant that had been at least a fourth-stage warrior in life. Right before her eyes, this small boy had used an unfamiliar stepping technique while simultaneously transforming a dagger into a spirit sword. Only Masters could use a technique like that. This wasn't spiritual reinforcement — sharpening a blade with energy — but an actual sword woven from energy, with the dagger serving only as a hilt.

  One swing of the glowing blade, and the Revenant that had terrified her was reduced to a pile of finely diced meat.

  Impossible.

  Is he a genius?

  But even if he was, Mia couldn't fathom where the boy had learned such techniques. Only in legends did true prodigies create techniques on the fly, from nothing. In practice, only masters could boast of that — and even then, they usually produced variations of existing techniques, adapting and refining them. But Nate couldn't possibly have seen a spirit sword before, couldn't have understood what the technique even was. Even Mia herself had only witnessed it once, during a master-level training session.

  Nate stood there, breathing hard. The sword in his hands flickered out, becoming a dagger again. He tilted his head toward the sky. Smiled.

  And a second later, he collapsed to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth onto the ground.

  "Nate!" Mia screamed, leaping to her feet and shaking off the paralysis. "Nate!"

  She reached him in two strides, but by then the boy was unconscious. She pressed her fingers to his neck — the pulse was faint. Barely there. Nate was dying. Whatever he'd done to gain that power was now killing him.

  "Junior student!" a voice called from behind, and Mia, who'd been on the verge of breaking, felt a wave of relief.

  Five students — a year above her. Two carried spears, the rest had swords.

  "Junior student, I'm Evun, third year. Report — what happened here? Was it you who called for help?"

  "Yes, there — cultists! Hurry, do you have life elixirs? My brother is dying!"

  "Oh!" One of the students snapped to attention and seconds later produced an unassuming vial from a spatial ring. "Here!"

  "Thank you," she said with raw sincerity, uncorked the bottle, and poured it into the boy's mouth. "Drink... You need to drink... That's it... That's it... I'm not letting you die after everything you just did... Hold on... Please..."

  When I opened my eyes, I didn't feel rested. The opposite — it was like I'd trained for days and then just collapsed. My whole body ached with a dull, miserable throb, numbness, and other unpleasant sensations. And beneath it all, I felt a strange emptiness.

  "Oh, he's awake!"

  Mia's voice. I recognized it immediately.

  With some effort, I pried open my eyes — they really did not want to cooperate — and when I managed, I wished I hadn't.

  For starters, the room held more than just my sister. Two men were also present. One was about my father's age — built strong, with a touch of gray in his hair. The other was a thin old man with a long beard, dressed in a snow-white robe. And it was the latter who stood hunched over me, sticking needles into my scrawny body.

  Acupuncture? Oh, great...

  "Don't move," the healer said — his voice gentle but brooking no argument. At least, I assumed he was a healer, given the procedure. "If I miss, it ends badly for you. Understand?"

  "Yes..."

  I barely recognized my own voice. Raspy. Grating. Was I really that badly hurt?

  "Don't move, Nate. Doctor Wei will help you."

  The memories of the fight with the Revenant brought no comfort.

  I'd overloaded myself. Absorbed too much power — far more than this body could handle. I'd hoped pure life energy would be different from demonic, that the regeneration would be fast enough to heal the meridian damage as it happened. I was wrong. The power had been too great, and now...

  I closed my eyes and turned inward, focusing on my focus and... nothing. Absolute void. Not a trace of spiral energy. Which could only mean one thing.

  I'd burned out my focus. Destroyed my meridians with the torrent of power.

  Idiot.

  Fool.

  I wanted to scream, break something. Instead I took a deep breath and sank into meditation. "The mind must stay cold. Panic has never helped anyone." I remember, teacher. Even after all these years, I remember.

  This wasn't the end.

  I hadn't given up yet.

  "So this is what he fought with?" Teacher Eiliv asked his student. Mia Crane nodded.

  "Yes. The dagger was lying next to him."

  "Interesting..." he murmured, studying the cultist's blade in his hands. The warrior had dealt with cultist artifacts before and could identify their origin on sight. The Butchers' Alliance — a group of cults worshipping Bartomat, the demon of the thirteenth lower ring. The demon of slaughter, hence the name. Despite their shared idol, the alliance was really a collection of independent cults that were constantly at each other's throats. This particular dagger belonged to the cult of Fedas the Bloodletter. "And strange."

  "Teacher?"

  "See these runes?" He indicated the symbols burned into the hilt. "I don't recognize them. This should be a dagger that absorbs souls. Cultists use them frequently for harvesting, funneling the collected energy to their master. But the stone is missing, and these runes break the fundamental purpose of the original construct. I don't know exactly when they were added, but one thing's certain — they were carved long after the dagger was made. And I'm curious, Mia — could your brother have inscribed them?"

  "Runes? How would my brother know runes?" The girl was flustered, but Eiliv knew her well enough to be certain she was telling the truth. "He's six. He hasn't even fully learned spiral script, let alone runic."

  "And yet, by your account, he used techniques he shouldn't have known, and killed a Revenant that even you — a second-year student — couldn't defeat. How did he do it?"

  "I—"

  "I think I can answer that question." The healer, Nevir, approached them.

  "How is he?" Mia asked immediately.

  "He's... To be blunt, he's in bad shape. His life isn't in danger, but beyond that, I'm afraid I'll be a great disappointment. I believe he absorbed an enormous quantity of energy — pure enough not to kill him outright, but far too much for his body to handle."

  "He absorbed the energy from the soul stone." Eiliv showed the healer the dagger with the empty socket.

  "Most likely," the healer agreed. "Under normal circumstances, it should have simply incinerated him from the inside. But he somehow managed to direct the energy, opening power nodes."

  "Incredible!" Mia gasped.

  "Indeed. I believe that at the height of the battle, he was operating at a minimum of fourth stage — possibly master level. I would say this boy was a once-in-centuries prodigy. I've never heard of anyone forming their first focus at such a young age."

  "According to legend, Lord Adjudicator formed his focus at age seven," Eiliv recalled. "That's the earliest case in my memory."

  "Even those who manage it at nine are often considered geniuses."

  "So... my brother is a super-talent who surpassed even Lord Adjudicator?" Mia simply couldn't believe it.

  "Possibly," the old healer shrugged. "But now we'll never know."

  "Why?"

  "As I said — your brother absorbed too much power. He burned out his focus, and his meridians along with it."

  "But... there has to be a way..."

  "Mia," her teacher cut in gently. "You know perfectly well what this means."

  "But... he—"

  "I'm sorry." The healer bowed his head. "He was a genius, and we've lost him. This young man will never be able to practice martial arts again."