*Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, violence, blood, and morally dark actions. Reader discretion advised.*
***
The spearhead pressed against Void's throat, close enough for the cold metal to kiss his skin. The leader of the guards snarled, breath hot with contempt.
"Answer when we speak to you, dog."
Void remained seated on the bed, eyes half-lidded, expression empty. He didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Silence clung to him like a second skin.
The second guard lost patience and swung the butt of his spear toward Void's ribs. The blow connected—
—and the guard screamed.
His wrist twisted at an impossible angle, bones snapping with a wet crunch as if the force of his own strike had turned on him. He flew backward into the wall, cracking stone before collapsing, clutching his ruined arm.
The third guard staggered in shock. "W-What—?"
He lashed out reflexively, fist driving toward Void's face. The moment his knuckles touched Void's cheek, something unseen surged. Pain exploded up his arm, elbow joint folding backward, tendons tearing like paper. He dropped to his knees, vomiting blood from the backlash that slammed into his own core.
The leader shouted, swinging his spear like a blade. The shaft hit Void's shoulder—
—and the spear itself shattered, splinters exploding outward. A shard buried itself in the leader's thigh; he crumpled with a howl, blood soaking the floor.
Void slowly rose from the bed, adjusting his clothes as if brushing off dust rather than violence. His eyes were calm, indifferent, as he looked down at the three writhing men.
"I don't even need to deal with trash like you," he murmured. "Soon enough, you'll learn where you truly stand."
He took a single step forward—
—and vanished.
The guards froze, eyes bulging.
"H-He disappeared…" one whispered through clenched teeth. "Without even… moving qi…"
***
Void reappeared in the quiet of another world.
A dark, curved tiled roof stretched above him, its silhouette cutting into a sky stained with deep blue dusk. He stood on a wooden engawa—the veranda of a secluded building wrapped in a small courtyard garden.
Trees and shrubs framed the scene, their leaves whispering in the cool air. Pink and purple blossoms bloomed in clusters, scattering petals across the polished wooden floor like fallen fragments of a forgotten festival. A low wall encircled the garden, its stone surface faded with age.
Two lanterns cast gentle light: one mounted on a post near the wall, the other a small, lit lantern resting on the ground beside the porch, its warm glow fighting against the encroaching night. The atmosphere carried a soft, bluish tint, as if the world had been washed in twilight ink.
Void sat down on the wooden bench, back straight, hands resting lightly on his knees. No pity touched his features. No sorrow, no guilt. Only a quiet, inward focus, as if the night itself had settled inside his chest.
"Isn't this building a little too quiet?" he murmured, lips curling slightly. "Considering who lives here."
He glanced toward the inner rooms.
"There must be other wives of the Heavenly Demon," he mused. "That girl at the inn… Violet, was it? She was part of his family."
His eyes narrowed, following an invisible thread through memory.
"So her mother should be somewhere around here. Violet, returning from harsh training, exhausted, craving something warm to eat… but the moment she met me, her fate closed like a book. Unlucky timing for her. Perfect timing for me."
He exhaled, amused.
"That disease of hers must have made her a target—mockery, bullying, isolation. Nothing new. This world's cruelty isn't creative."
His thoughts shifted, cold and precise.
"I likely have enough system points to create new skills," he continued softly. "But even if I wanted to, I won't. The moment I forge something new, Void Expanse will notice—and seal it on instinct. Wasted effort."
He leaned back slightly, gaze turning inward.
"I must rely on myself. Train more. Meditate more. Push this body further. Unlock all four divine forms of the God of Void sword."
He smiled faintly at the darkening sky.
"I don't know how long I'll have to walk and run, chased by gods. It doesn't bother me. After all—I'm kind, thoughtful, and at the same time…"
His smile sharpened.
"I'm a good person."
He rose in a single, fluid motion.
"Now then. While I'm free, I should train."
***
The courtyard became his crucible.
Void began with his body. He dropped into push-ups on bare knuckles, each repetition slow and controlled. Tendons strained, muscles coiled and uncoiled with mechanical precision. From there, he transitioned into fingertip push-ups on one hand, then two fingers, balance perfect, breath steady.
He moved to squats—deep, explosive, leaping high enough that petals swirled around his ankles in startled spirals. He landed without sound, knees absorbing impact like springs tempered by battle. Burpees, one-arm handstands, planks held long enough for lantern flames to flicker lower.
Sweat rolled down his back, soaking his clothes, but his expression never once twisted with effort.
Then came the mental grind.
He stood in the center of the garden, eyes closed, spine straight.
In his mind, another figure appeared: himself—same face, same eyes, same lazy smile, but stripped of restraint. That other Void moved first, attacking with every technique Void had ever used at full speed.
He fought that phantom version of himself blow for blow. Every punch he imagined was one he knew he could throw in reality. Every counter was something his future self might use against him. When the other Void feinted, he adjusted. When the other Void exploited a weakness, he memorized it. The duel grew faster, sharper, more brutal, two identical monsters refining the best way to kill each other.
To anyone watching, he merely stood there, unmoving in the dim blue light. But behind his closed eyes, he lost and killed himself dozens of times, polishing each imagined death into a lesson his body would remember when it truly mattered.
Illusory pressure bore down on him—self-imposed, suffocating. He forced his thoughts to remain sharp under that imagined weight, rehearsing decisions made in heartbeats, refining them into choices made in fractions of breaths.
The God of Void sword remained sheathed, untouched at his side. He denied himself its comfort, its hunger, forcing his body and mind to adapt on their own.
Only when his breathing finally deepened, muscles trembling beneath perfect control, did he allow himself to stop.
Void returned to the bench and sat, shoulders relaxed, gaze distant. Lantern light traced the lines of his jaw, half-shadowing his pale eyes.
Footsteps approached.
A woman strode into the courtyard, her presence cutting through the quiet like a blade through silk. She was tall, graceful, draped in dark robes embroidered with subtle crimson patterns. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes shone with a sharp, predatory intelligence.
She looked at Void as though he were an intruder in her private stage.
"Just who do you think you are?" she demanded, voice rich and arrogant. "Do you understand where you're standing right now?"
Void rose slowly, not bowing, not offering the slightest gesture of submission. His posture was calm, his gaze level—carrying the silent message: I am not beneath you.
After a heartbeat, he smiled politely.
"May I know who you are, my lady?"
Her tone shifted, smoothed into cultivated calm.
"I am Lilith Draven."
Void's eyes widened slightly. Draven. One of the Heavenly Demon's wives.
Lilith studied him in turn, lips curling upward.
"Will you look at that…" she murmured, almost to herself. "What a handsome man. No—too handsome. Those eyes… I've never seen white eyes like that. They're almost painful to look at."
Her gaze roamed, shameless, as her thoughts grew darker.
"It wounds my pride to scold a face like yours," she continued, a strange light entering her eyes. "But if I were to make you my little slave… I could make you do whatever I wanted, couldn't I?"
Her smile twisted—something hungry, something wrong.
Void watched her, disappointment settling over his features like a veil.
"How disappointing," he murmured under his breath. "After all, she's still human. One thing's clear, though."
His eyes cooled, the night reflected in them.
"She's a pervert."
***