Kael did not stop walking until the ravine was far behind him and the forest swallowed all traces of blood.
Only then did he slow.
Only then did he allow himself to feel.
The first sensation was warmth.
It spread through his limbs like a slow-burning wine, sinking into muscle and bone, filling spaces that had always felt hollow. His steps were lighter. His breathing steadier. Even the constant ache in his ribs had dulled to something distant and manageable.
Power.
Not imagined. Not symbolic.
Real.
Kael stopped beside a fallen log and sat, elbows resting on his knees. He flexed his fingers slowly, deliberately.
The strength was subtle—but undeniable.
Before, gripping a branch had required effort. Now, the wood creaked faintly beneath his hand.
Qi Condensation—Stage One.
A true beginning.
Kael closed his eyes and turned inward.
The void greeted him as it always did.
But it was different now.
The Eclipse Core rotated with a smoother rhythm, black and white layers interlocking more tightly than before, like gears finally meshing. The space around it felt denser, charged with latent potential.
Kael examined it with careful attention.
There was residue.
Not energy, exactly—but impression.
Echoes.
The wolf's feral hunger.
The boar's rage and desperation.
And now—
The bandits.
Fear. Greed. Malice. Regret.
They clung faintly to the Core's surface, like dust caught in a slow gravitational pull.
Kael frowned.
"So that's the price," he murmured.
The Eclipse Core did not discriminate.
It absorbed life.
And with it—memory.
Not clearly. Not as coherent thoughts.
But as weight.
Kael focused, and the impressions blurred, dissolving slowly into the larger balance of the Core. Black deepened. White brightened.
Stability returned.
He exhaled.
Good.
He had no interest in becoming haunted by the dead.
But the realization lingered.
Power wasn't just strength.
It was accumulation.
Every kill added something—useful or poisonous—to what he was becoming.
Kael opened his eyes.
The forest looked the same.
But he didn't.
He tested himself as he moved.
Running lightly across uneven ground, feeling how his balance adjusted instinctively. Jumping short distances, gauging how much force his legs could now produce without tearing muscle.
Careful.
Measured.
He was stronger—but still fragile.
A single mistake could still end him.
By late afternoon, hunger returned.
Not the gnawing, maddened hunger of starvation—but something sharper, more demanding.
Cultivation hunger.
His body now expected fuel.
Kael frowned slightly.
"That escalated quickly."
He followed a game trail deeper into the forest, senses alert. The world felt louder now. Richer. He could hear distant water, the subtle scrape of claws against bark, the faint heartbeat of something hiding nearby.
Prey.
A deer-like creature burst from the brush ahead, antlers small but sharp. It froze when it saw him.
Kael didn't rush.
He crouched slowly, picking up a stone.
The creature bolted.
Kael threw.
The stone struck its hind leg with a dull crack. The creature stumbled, bleating in panic.
Kael ran.
Not blindly.
He matched its pace, cutting angles, forcing it toward a narrow stand of trees where its antlers tangled briefly.
That was enough.
He leapt, tackling it to the ground.
The struggle was violent but brief.
Kael snapped its neck cleanly.
The Eclipse Core pulsed.
Life flowed in—cleaner than before. Simpler.
No malice.
No complexity.
Just vitality.
Kael closed his eyes as the warmth flooded him.
This time, there was no tremor.
No instability.
His body absorbed it naturally.
He skinned and butchered the carcass efficiently, hanging most of the meat in a tree to smoke later. He ate his fill by the stream, fire crackling softly nearby.
As he ate, Kael became aware of something unsettling.
The satisfaction wasn't just physical.
It was… emotional.
A faint sense of completion settled in his chest after each kill. As if something inside him approved.
He frowned.
That's dangerous.
Power should not be pleasurable.
Or rather—it could be.
But pleasure must never dictate action.
Kael stared into the fire, chewing slowly.
"I won't let this decide for me," he said quietly.
The flames crackled.
The Eclipse Core remained silent.
That night, Kael dreamed.
He stood in a vast field beneath a sky split perfectly in half—one side blazing white, the other an endless abyss of black. Beneath his feet, roots twisted and spread in all directions, drinking deeply from both light and darkness.
Corpses lay everywhere.
Beasts. Men. Things he didn't recognize.
They did not rot.
They fed the roots.
Kael looked down at his hands.
They were stained black to the elbow—and glowing white to the shoulder.
A voice echoed—not from above, not from below, but from within.
What will you become when nothing is wasted?
Kael opened his mouth to answer—
And woke.
He sat up sharply, heart racing.
Cold sweat clung to his skin.
The fire had burned low. Embers glowed faintly.
Kael stared at his hands.
Normal.
Human.
For now.
He exhaled slowly.
"That," he murmured, "was a warning."
Or a temptation.
Perhaps both.
Morning came gray and quiet.
Kael packed what meat he could carry and began moving again, following the forest's subtle gradients toward higher ground. He wanted distance—distance from the village, from bandits, from anyone who might have noticed the disturbance he'd caused.
But distance did not mean safety.
By midday, he felt it.
That familiar pressure.
Closer now.
He stopped, senses reaching outward.
Footsteps.
Light. Disciplined.
Cultivators.
Kael's eyes narrowed.
He retreated instinctively, moving upwind, masking his scent, keeping to shadow. He climbed a tree and watched from above as two figures passed below—robed, carrying blades that hummed faintly with Qi.
Sect disciples.
They spoke quietly.
"…felt it clearly," one said. "A disturbance. Several deaths in quick succession."
"Outer region," the other replied. "Could be bandits."
"Or something else."
Kael held his breath.
The Eclipse Core pulsed faintly, suppressing his presence, drawing his aura inward until he felt almost hollow.
The disciples paused.
One frowned. "Strange. It vanished."
"Probably nothing," the other said. "Let's report back."
They moved on.
Kael remained still for a long time after they left.
His heart hammered.
So that's the scale now, he thought. Enough killing, and the world notices.
Not heaven.
Not gods.
But institutions.
Systems.
Order.
Kael slid down from the tree, expression thoughtful.
He had tasted power.
And it had tasted good.
That was the problem.
Power invited indulgence.
Indulgence invited exposure.
Exposure invited annihilation.
Kael clenched his fist.
"No," he said softly. "Not yet."
He would grow.
He would kill when necessary.
But he would not become reckless.
Not like the bandits.
Not like the cultivators who thought themselves untouchable.
Kael adjusted his cloak and disappeared into the forest once more, steps light, presence muted.
Behind him, the land slowly absorbed the blood he'd spilled.
Ahead of him—
A far more dangerous path waited.
And Kael walked it willingly, already aware of one unshakable truth:
Once you tasted power—
Hunger was never truly gone.