CHAPTER 94: THE LOOMING MAINLAND

Deep beneath the calm, blue surface of the Endless Ocean, a figure sat cross-legged before a shimmering barrier of light.

The water around him did not touch his body; an invisible field of Qi pushed it away, creating a small, dry pocket in the crushing depths.

He wore a simple, dark robe, and a featureless silver mask covered his face, hiding him from the world.

He was Elder Jian, a core elder of the Azure Sky Palace, a Tier 6 cultivator on the verge of a breakthrough.

For three long centuries, he had been here, in this forgotten corner of the world, trying to break the ancient formation that guarded the Sunken Dragon’s Heart.

It was a treasure that could help him form his own domain, the final step to reaching the legendary Tier 7.

He had kept his mission a secret. A treasure of this magnitude would attract the attention of the other great sects on the Mainland. He could not risk that. He had to claim it for himself.

A few months ago, he had felt a strange pulse of energy from the Wastelands. It was so small that he only sensed it because of his contract monster.

But it was chaotic, the kind that signalled the opening of a secret realm or a labyrinth.

He was too busy with the formation to investigate himself. So, he had sent a small team of outer disciples, disposable pawns, to check it out.

He had given them a simple order: find the source of the energy and report back.

He had not heard from them since.

Inside his spatial ring, a small, jade token suddenly cracked. Then another. And another. Within seconds, the life tokens of the entire scout team shattered into dust.

They were all dead.

The veiled figure did not move. He did not even open his eyes.

"Useless pieces of shit," he said. His voice was a cold, flat sound in the silent, deep water.

He felt a flicker of annoyance. The disciples were weak, but they were still members of his sect. For them to be wiped out so completely meant there was something, or someone, of interest in that backwater province.

The energy he had sensed was likely a great opportunity.

He frowned behind his mask. He thought about abandoning his current hunt and going to the province himself.

He could crush whatever primitive power existed there and take the treasure for himself. The people in that land, the so-called Wastelands, were weak.

It would be easy.

But then he looked at the shimmering formation in front of him. The Sunken Dragon’s Heart was right there. He could feel its immense power.

It was the key to his breakthrough. After three centuries of work, the formation was finally weakening.

He was close. So close.

He made his decision.

"I can’t leave here," he muttered. "The treasure here is my priority."

But he did not want to lose the opportunity in there. He took a token and muttered a few sentences. Then he put away the token and closed his eyes, returning to a meditative state.

Far away in the Azure Sky Palace, a young man with a massive figure opened his eyes.

"Wastelands... huh," he muttered before popping his knuckles.

"To think the disciples of the sect would die there... how embarrassing. And the treasure Father yearned for... how interesting."

He would find the treasure that his embarrassing fellow disciples had died for. He would take it, and he would burn that entire land to the ground as a lesson to anyone who dared to kill a member of the Azure Sky Palace.

*

* *

Rhys stood in the central plaza of Cinderfall, his new city in the Ashen Dimension. The starlit void above was calm and beautiful.

Sera was playing with the Ashen Behemoth, her small, giggling form riding on the massive creature’s head.

Seduction was lounging on a newly crafted throne of black crystal, watching them with a lazy, amused smile.

It was a peaceful scene. But Rhys was not at peace. He was thinking about his new profession.

[Blood Demon.]

He reviewed the description in his mind.

It was a support ability. A way to empower his allies, his army. The potential was immense. He could create lieutenants who could command their own squads of the dead.

He could grant his most powerful soldiers a touch of his own destructive flame.

But the cost was high.

A sacrifice of his own vitality.

He needed to understand what that truly meant. He needed to test its limits.

He needed a subject. A living subject would be ideal, but he had no one here he trusted enough for such an experiment. There was only one way to find out.

"Behemoth," Rhys called out. His voice was quiet, but it echoed across the plaza.

The massive, star-forged creature stopped its gentle play with Sera. It turned its huge head towards Rhys.

It walked over to him, its heavy steps making the crystal ground tremble. It lowered its head in a gesture of absolute loyalty.

Sera slid down its nose and ran to Seduction’s side, watching with curious eyes.

For some reason, the two seemed to be closer than before. Rhys wondered if they were plotting something behind his back.

Rhys looked up at the Ashen Behemoth. It was one of his most powerful summons, a General-type summon with the bloodline of a Boss.

Its body was a mountain of solidified ash and starlight. It was the perfect test subject. If this worked on the Behemoth, it would work on any of his soldiers.

He took a deep breath. He held out his right hand and, with a thought, a thin line of his Voidheart Flame appeared on his palm.

He drew the line of fire across his skin. It did not burn him, but it opened a clean, deep cut.

His blood welled up from the wound. It was not red. It was a dark, almost black liquid that seemed to absorb the light. It hummed with a quiet, immense power.

It was the blood of the Ashen Sovereign, infused with the essence of the Void.

He placed his bleeding hand on the Behemoth’s massive, ashen leg.

"Accept it," he commanded.

The Behemoth did not resist. It stood perfectly still as Rhys pushed his will, and his blood, into its dead form.

He felt a strange connection form. It was not the simple command link he had with his other puppets.

This was deeper, more intimate. He was not just giving an order; he was sharing a piece of himself.

The dark blood flowed from his hand and into the Behemoth’s ashen hide. It did not just sit on the surface; it was absorbed, spreading through the creature’s body like ink in water.

Dark, vein-like patterns of black and silver began to appear all over the Behemoth’s grey form.

Then, Rhys felt the drain.

It was a deep, hollowing sensation. It was not pain. It was a feeling of profound weakness, as if a core part of his own energy was being siphoned away.

His vision blurred for a second as he felt a wave of dizziness. His constitution flared into activity as the dizziness started to dispel, albeit slowly.

But the mental feeling of weakness remained. It was a deep, internal exhaustion that even his infinite lifespan could not instantly erase.

He pulled his hand back, the flow of blood stopping. He had given the Behemoth a significant portion of his own power.

He looked up, his breathing a little heavy, and watched for the result.

The Behemoth began to change.

The new, dark patterns on its hide pulsed with a faint, silver light. Its eyes, which had been simple points of burning silver, now held a swirling galaxy within them, just like the original Titan.

It let out a low rumble, a sound that was not just a beast’s cry, but a command.

Rhys watched, his heart pounding with anticipation.

The Behemoth raised one of its massive front legs and slammed it onto the ground.

THUD.

The ash on the ground of the plaza began to move. It swirled and gathered at the Behemoth’s feet. Then, from the ash, small forms began to rise.

They were crude, malformed shapes at first, like clumsy dolls made of dust. But they quickly solidified, taking the shape of small, grey soldiers.

They were Ashen Soldiers, the most basic form of his marionettes. There were only ten of them, and they were weak, barely at the level of a Stage 1 (Low) creature.

But they were there.

The experiment was a success.

’So after they are infused with my blood, they only need a little ash to summon,’ Rhys thought, then frowned, ’but the summons are all in their basic form.’

He did not think that would be a problem, as in the future they would be exposed to more powerful monsters, whose basic forms were also powerful.

The Ashen Behemoth, a summon of his own, had created its own summons. It now wielded a diluted version of his Ashen Marionettes ability.

A wide, triumphant smile spread across Rhys’s face. The weakness he felt was a small price to pay for this incredible new power.

He was no longer just a king with an army. He was an emperor who could create kings.

He could choose his most powerful soldiers, his champions, and grant them the ability to raise their own legions.

His power could now multiply itself.