The sky remained a heavy, lifeless grey. Ash drifted through the air like snow, coating the world in a pale shroud.
Jiyul climbed higher, venturing deeper into the spine of the Death Spring Mountains. He moved like a ghost now—unhurried, silent, and cold. The black qi around him pulsed faintly, alive and hungry.
He glanced at the trees lining the path. Their trunks were twisted into agonizing shapes, their roots digging deep into soil fed by blood and time. Nature here had long surrendered to something darker.
"This isn't a mountain," Jiyul thought, his boots crunching on loose shale. "It's a graveyard. And I am the thief."
He passed cliffs scarred by battles fought eons ago. Faded symbols were carved into the rock face, and statues of unknown deities lay shattered, half-buried in frost.
He stopped at a broken pillar.
Faint carvings were still visible on the weathered stone. They depicted a figure holding a curved sword, wings spread wide behind its back. Beneath it, another figure knelt in chains.
"A god and a prisoner?" Jiyul muttered, tracing the lines with his eyes.
He looked closer. The prisoner's face had been scratched out violently.
"Or... maybe the prisoner was the god."
He stepped back, his gaze sharpening.
"This place doesn't worship power. It punishes it."
He kept walking.
Time blurred. Days passed in the grey silence.
He found a cave where the walls glowed with faint gold light. Symbols danced across the stone like liquid fire. But when he touched them, they felt cold. The moment he turned his back, the cave collapsed inward, burying its secrets forever.
He found a tree with leaves as black as obsidian, shaped like spearheads. Its bark bled red sap when he cut it. He left it behind.
He found a frozen lake with a single lotus blooming at the center, untouched by the ice. But when he stepped near the edge, the water whispered his name in a thousand drowning voices.
He didn't answer.
Each step deeper brought less fear and more clarity.
"The gods died here. Not because they were weak," he said, pausing under a massive arch of bone that belonged to a dragon long dead. "But because they forgot to be ruthless."
He remembered Velkhan's warning: Don't become what you're hunting.
Jiyul's lips curled into a sneer.
"I'm not hunting anything anymore. I'm claiming everything."
On the seventh day, he found it.
A temple buried under thick, thorny vines, half-swallowed by the earth. There were no doors, no statues guarding the entrance, and no offerings left by pilgrims.
Only silence.
He placed his palm on the cold stone wall. The Blood Ember flared in response. The ground trembled, stones shifted with a grinding groan, and a path opened into the dark.
Jiyul entered without hesitation.
Inside, the corridor pulsed with old, stale power. Symbols lit up as he walked, guiding him deeper.
He reached a circular chamber. It was empty, save for a single pedestal in the center.
Resting on it was an ancient flower . fragile.
Far ancient,Far dangerous.
Jiyul stepped closer. "Another god's soul?"
There was no answer.
He reached out. The moment his fingertips brushed the surface, the flower shattered.
SHATTER.
The energy didn't flow, it shot into his chest like a spear.
BOOM.
He staggered back, grunting as the force slammed into his core. A voice rang out in his head, echoing like thunder in a canyon.
"You'll regret this."
"I already regret everything."
The voice laughed a dry, rasping sound and then vanished into the void of his mind.
His body pulsed. New strength flooded his veins, adding a terrible weight to his soul. The sword at his back vibrated in resonance.
He sat down cross-legged on the cold floor and waited. Breathing. Listening. Integrating the theft.
When his eyes opened, they were colder than before.
Thoughts flowed through him, whispered by the lingering energy.
"So many gods. So many graves. So many lies. Immortality is just a game of who suffers longer."
He stood up. The wind howled through the cracks in the temple walls.
"If they feared death, they were never gods to begin with."
He walked back out into the mountains.
Later that night, he stood beneath a dead tree, the stars blinking coldly above. He held the black ember in his hand and spoke to it as if it were a living servant.
"How many more are buried here?"
No reply. Only silence.
"Show me."
The ember pulsed once, then released a wave of energy outward. It stretched for miles, scanning the dead peaks.
Then, far away, a light answered.
Deep in the north ridge.
Jiyul grinned.
"Found you."
He sheathed his sword and turned north.
Before the dawn broke, a final thought crossed his mind.
"I don't want to become a god anymore," he whispered. "I want them to kneel to something worse."