"What were you thinking, Nate?! Do you have any idea what you did to that poor boy?!" Mom was laying into me while Dad stood there nodding along with a serious expression, backing up every word. I was already regretting coming home that evening. I'd figured I'd get a proper night's sleep for once, and instead walked straight into this. "What if he'd actually died? The butcher came here screaming his head off! You knocked his teeth out!"

  Interestingly, besides Dad, my sister was also in the room — and that caught me off guard, because I didn't remember having an older sister. Or rather, I hadn't remembered until I saw her. It's a strange thing, suddenly remembering someone who's family... The thing was, she'd left our house when I was about two, and right now she was supposed to be studying at the Crimson Retribution Academy — the same school whose students had become aspirants yesterday. She'd been training for over two years to become one of them.

  She'd already opened a focus inside herself. I could sense it even without opening my own. But what was really curious wasn't that I'd nearly forgotten my sister — it was that I didn't remember her visit. Either my memory was failing me, or something had changed. Either way, she was here in the room, casually sipping herbal tea and watching our little family meltdown with total indifference.

  The lecture and hand-wringing lasted a good half hour and ended with me promising never to do it again. That was that. My parents got ready and left — probably to negotiate some kind of compensation with the butcher — leaving my sister to keep an eye on me.

  "So why'd you do it?" she asked, waiting a solid ten minutes after they'd gone.

  Funny. She was the first person who actually asked me why, instead of just assuming I was guilty.

  "Because fear is power too. He's bigger, stronger, and older than me. But now that he knows what kind of teeth I have, they won't be eager to feel them again."

  My sister raised an eyebrow, studying me with mild curiosity.

  "Or he starts taking you seriously, and then you're really in trouble."

  "In that case, I need to make sure he doesn't get back up next time," I said with a slightly sinister smile. My sister, mid-sip, choked on her tea.

  "Are you sure you're my little brother?" she frowned, coughing.

  "I was. Until Reckoning Day."

  "And after?"

  "After that, they told me I'm going to hell."

  "Oh, so that's what this is about. Get that out of your head, Nate. Seriously. You're too young to be sent to hell, and you definitely haven't done anything to deserve it. If today's fight happened because you're thinking something like 'well, if I'm headed to hell anyway, might as well earn it' — stop. A week from now, when nothing happens, you'll feel stupid."

  Oh, sis. If only you knew how wrong you were. I really was going to hell — there was no mistake. Or rather, I would if things went badly. But if I pulled it off, everyone would just assume the Eternal had been talking about someone else with my name. Some wandering criminal from a faraway land who'd passed through.

  But honestly, I had no idea what would happen if things went according to plan. If I killed the gatekeeper demon, would another one come? How would whoever controlled this process react? I didn't fully understand what kind of artifacts the Lords used for these spatial manipulations. The gatekeeper demons could move between rings directly, and while they were usually barred from entering cities, they could still collect the condemned.

  "Nate? Are you listening?"

  "Of course," I snapped out of my thoughts. "How could I not listen to my dear older sister?"

  "Are you really five?" She frowned. "You talk way too coherently for a five-year-old."

  "Kids grow up fast," I shrugged. Especially fast when they spend two hundred years on the lower rings endlessly killing demons. It was a miracle I hadn't lost my mind.

  She didn't have a comeback for that, so I decided to steer the conversation myself.

  "Hey, sis — can you tell me about studying at Crimson Retribution?"

  That got a smile out of her. A reserved one, like she'd been expecting this. Of course — every kid dreaming of becoming an aspirant wants to hear these stories, and I was no exception. Once I dealt with the gatekeeper demon, my path would lead to Crimson Retribution too.

  "I can't tell you everything," she said after a pause — more for dramatic effect than necessity. "Parts of the training are classified. I'm not allowed to share them with anyone."

  And then she started talking.

  Every year, over five thousand students enroll at Crimson Retribution Academy. By the end of the first year, maybe a thousand are left. The training is brutal, and every exercise is designed to weed out the weak and push the potential of those who have it.

  "There are three mandatory combat disciplines: sword, spear, and bow. A student who wants to advance to the second year needs to earn a proficiency rank in at least one. That means they have to be able to use basic weapon techniques while channeling spiral energy, and know at least five combat techniques well enough."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "What does 'well enough' mean?" I asked immediately.

  "It means using them without collapse. A collapse is when—"

  "When the technique breaks apart and damages your meridians," I finished for her.

  "Right," she said, surprised. "Didn't expect you to know that. When a technique is too powerful for you, or your control over internal energy isn't good enough, the technique destabilizes. The backlash hits the body's energy structure. If the damage piles up and isn't treated in time, a practitioner can lose the ability to use internal energy entirely. The meridians just burn out, and once that happens, nothing can restore them."

  "Nothing at all?" I pressed.

  "Nothing on the outer rings, for sure. I'm not certain about the inner ones. We don't know much about what goes on beyond the border ranges, and masters of at least the ninth step are rare visitors who don't like sharing details about the inner rings. Either way, even if methods exist, they're out of reach for people like us. If your meridians are destroyed, your path of Ascension ends right here on the outer rings."

  "Got it," I nodded. Mirion had told me something similar, but I wanted to confirm — a lot of time had passed, and I might have forgotten or misremembered things. "So when do people become aspirants?"

  "Usually after the third year, but it's not our decision — it's the Eternals'. They assess practitioners' strength and decide who's worthy to enter the gates and reach the inner rings. Some people finish all three years and never get the chance."

  "What if someone just tried to go through the gates? I've heard there are gates in Gadrus that lead through the ranges."

  "There are," she nodded. "But they're guarded by a sentinel, and he's at least seventh step. No matter how talented you are, you're not beating him."

  "Have you seen this sentinel?"

  She nodded.

  "Yeah. He looks a lot like an Eternal, but... simpler, I guess. Human-sized."

  "What about sneaking through with the caravans?"

  As far as I knew, every few months, caravans from the inner rings came to collect the tribute we sent.

  "Won't work." She shook her head. "The sentinel sees everything and kills anyone who tries to pass."

  "How does he tell who's allowed through and who isn't?"

  "The brand. Everyone who becomes an aspirant or is born on the inner rings receives a special brand. It's impossible to get one here. The brand clearly identifies where you were born or how you gained entry to the inner rings."

  "What about crossing the ranges on foot?" I asked.

  "Well..." She nearly laughed but caught herself. "You just don't understand what you're talking about, Nate. The border ranges are so wide and dangerous that even the straight road through the gates takes over a week. A week on a good, maintained road — and the mountains... Sure, theoretically you could try, and after a month of grueling, life-threatening travel, maybe reach the inner ring. But I've never heard of anyone who actually made it. I've heard plenty about people who set out, but not a single one who reached the other side. Maybe they found a better life. Maybe they died from the weather, or in a fight with demons, or at the hands of the blood cults and sects. I'm telling you — it's genuinely dangerous out there. But even if a practitioner got lucky, even if they made it past every obstacle, avoided every fight, and reached the end — they'd still have a rough time."

  "Why?"

  "Think about it. I already told you: the brand is everything on the inner rings. It tells people your status at a glance. Without one, almost every door is closed. You need to show your brand to enter cities. You need it to train at their orders. If you want to go further, higher up the Spiral — brand again."

  "No brand, you're nobody. I get it."

  "Exactly. But to be fair, even without becoming an aspirant, you can live a decent life here. Crimson Retribution trains some of the best students in the province, and noble houses and white cult alliances are happy to recruit them. If you don't want to be a guard or a bodyguard, you can always join the Mountain Wanderers — they make expeditions into the ranges, hunting beasts, gathering herbs, and fighting off cultists."

  "You just said only crazy people go into the mountains."

  "That's exactly what the Mountain Wanderers are," she laughed openly this time. "Normal people don't last out there! Completely unhinged bunch — and the stories they tell... But even they don't go far. Cases of them reaching the middle of the range are rare enough to count on one hand."

  "What about you?"

  "What about me?"

  "You've finished two years and you're halfway through the third. Another six months and..."

  She frowned and let out a heavy sigh, giving me a weary look. Did I hit a nerve?

  "No idea. By the time I finish, there'll still be six months until the next Reckoning Day. I've already lined up a part-time gig as a bodyguard for a merchant woman. Well, I'm already her bodyguard, but only part-time. When I graduate, they're offering full-time with room and board. And honestly? I'm fine with that. I've reached the second stage of the tenth step. Maybe with a couple years of hard training I'll hit the third, but I think that's my ceiling. I'm not talented or strong. I doubt the Eternal would pick me, and even if she did, I'd say no."

  "Most people consider it an honor."

  "Leaving your home, your friends, your family — chasing... some vague idea of power?"

  "Isn't that what everyone around here wants?"

  "A lot of them. But I guess I'm the weak link. One of the worst in my class, if we're being blunt. And the longer I study, the more I regret going down this path. But it's not all bad. Warriors are respected in our society. The higher your steps, the more weight you carry. Look at Mom and Dad — zero steps. Who listens to them? You knocked out the butcher's kid's teeth, and sure, the man's got a prosthetic leg, but he's a respected figure. If his boy had knocked out your teeth, nobody would've even apologized. He'd have shrugged and called it kids being kids. But you did it, and now our parents are running over there begging for forgiveness and handing over months' worth of savings."

  "What?!"

  "Why do you think I'm here? They asked me for a loan, so I came running."

  "But you're second stage too — you could've stepped in!"

  "And done what? I'm a student of the Academy, Nate. Everything I do reflects on the school. If I'd personally stood up for you, who knows how it would've ended. He could've attacked me, then called the town magistrate and accused me of assault. And even if I'd won — then what? He'd hold a grudge against you, and I can't be around all the time. I could only come today because the school's on break for graduation. Mom and Dad are fine, you're fine, and that's what matters. The money... Let him choke on the money. We'll earn more."

  I lowered my eyes. For the first time, I felt genuinely guilty. When I was smashing that idiot's teeth in, I hadn't thought about the consequences. I'd acted the way I always did in the arena. There, all that mattered was killing the enemy and staying alive. Here, things were a lot more complicated.

  "There — now I can see you're actually ashamed," my sister noted, not without satisfaction. "Mom and Dad obviously won't say this to you, but since you seem to be such a mature little guy, I will. Next time you decide to kick someone's ass, think about who's going to pay for it."

  "Or kick their ass so thoroughly that nobody can prove it," I smiled.

  "Or that," she smiled back, her faintly glowing blue eyes narrowing. "You're a terrifying little creep, Nate."

  You have no idea how much...