My sister clearly meant to impress me with some kind of stepping technique, but it didn't quite land the way she'd hoped. Still, credit where it's due — she moved beautifully and fast. Way faster than I'd expected from a second-stage practitioner.

  Her technique was interesting: she wasn't so much running as gliding along the road. I couldn't figure out the mechanics just yet. It reminded me of an elemental wind or ice technique, but from what I'd heard, touching the elements at the tenth step was practically impossible.

  Either way, Mia was full of surprises. And she hadn't forgotten about me clinging to her back, either — she wrapped us in a thin veil of power that absorbed most of the wind.

  She still needed rest stops, though.

  "What's the technique called?"

  "Wandering Wind Steps."

  "Teach me?"

  "Sorry, it belongs to the school. But if they take you in, you'll learn it yourself. It's not hard to get."

  "So this is how you always travel to see us?"

  "Yeah," she nodded, pulling a waterskin from her spatial ring. "The school has several outposts across the province. We're not in Varander all that often — just for special training sessions, visiting the technique archives, or handling business. Almost all our training and missions happen at regional outposts. Just before last Reckoning Day, I was assigned to the Rukhan outpost. Before that I was at Nosimid. That one's far east — even with the stepping technique, it would've taken over a day to get there. That's why I never visited before. Now I finally can."

  That much was true. She had been coming around more often. Never for long — half a day at most — but she tried.

  "How far is Rukhan?"

  "About two hours from Daiward with the technique."

  She drank her fill and passed the waterskin to me. I took it — I was getting thirsty.

  "Truth is, that's where we're headed. Going straight to Varander would take over a week, but the Rukhan outpost has transit gates leading to headquarters."

  "Crimson Retribution has its own gates?"

  "Yeah, about ten of them scattered across the province."

  "And they'll let us use them?" I asked.

  "I'm hoping so. My teacher left the regional outpost for a month, and I don't want to show you to anyone else. So I'll be pushing for them to open the gates to the capital."

  "Ah. You want to be the one who 'discovered the genius.'"

  "Yeah, you're definitely too smart for a five-year-old."

  "I'm almost six," I reminded her. "Three weeks away."

  I nearly laughed at myself, hearing how ridiculous that sounded. Bad influence from Chloe, who was always comparing herself to other kids based on age.

  "Ye-e-e-eah, that cha-a-a-anges everything," Mia smiled, putting the waterskin away. "Ready? Let's keep moving."

  Sighing, I climbed back onto her. I hated being a backpack, but there was no alternative. I couldn't use stepping techniques in my current state — I didn't even have a single power node open to activate techniques with. All my focus gave me right now was the ability to reinforce my body — fully or partially — and slightly accelerated healing. Not much yet, but the stronger my focus grew and the more meridians I developed, the greater the effect.

  Master Mirion once bragged that before they'd burned out his meridians and focus, an ordinary person could've hit him with a sword and he wouldn't have even noticed. No matter how sharp the blade, it couldn't break the skin.

  I was a long way from that.

  While I was thinking about all this, Mia picked up speed — but barely two minutes in, she slammed to a halt because several people came scrambling onto the road, screaming.

  What was happening?

  Mia braked hard, and the panicked people rushed toward her. Only then did I notice the blood on them.

  "Oh, praise the Lords! Crimson Retribution is here! Please, help us!" wailed a large woman, tears streaming down her face.

  "Help us! There — over there!"

  Mia set me down and tried to calm the frantic group. I was also trying to understand what they were saying, but all I could make out between the sobbing was "over there," "dead," "hurry," and "save us." Finally, another man burst out of the bushes — a thin, wiry old guy — and he actually managed to explain things properly.

  Half an hour ago, their small village — about half a kilometer from the road — had been attacked. By whom? Not entirely clear, but from the rough descriptions, it sounded like a group of blood cultists.

  "I saw a blue raven above the village."

  "The Butchers' Alliance?" Mia's eyes went wide. "What are they doing this close to the capital?"

  But how would peasants know something like that? They just begged the practitioner to help — there were still women and children in the village.

  "Nate, I'm sorry. You'll have to stay with these people."

  Mia had gone pale, but despite her fear she kept her composure in front of the terrified civilians. She pulled a small crimson tube from her spatial ring, yanked a cord hanging from the bottom, and it popped. A ball of fire shot skyward, climbed high, and burst into a shower of lights.

  "I've called for backup. Someone should come," she said. Then a single-edged sword appeared in her hand. "And I need to go."

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  "Don't be stupid! You're alone!" I snapped, knowing how dangerous this was. The cultists would have practitioners of their own, and in the best case they'd be roughly her level.

  "Don't worry," she smiled. "They saw the signal too — they're already getting ready to run. My showing up will just scare them more. Besides, your big sister's strong. Didn't I tell you?"

  You told me you were one of the worst in your class, I thought.

  "Please look after my little brother," she said, bowing with fist pressed to palm.

  "Yes, yes, of course..." one of the peasants mumbled, grabbing my shoulder and trying to pull me close.

  Mia shot me one last worried look, nodded, turned, and vanished into the trees. I stared after her, and it took a moment before I registered the whispered conversations among my new "guardians."

  "What can she do on her own?"

  "Maybe she's a grand master?"

  "A student? A grand master? Come on."

  "But she could scare the cultists off."

  "Yes, yes!"

  "Even if she dies, she'll buy time until the others arrive."

  "We should hide and wait it ou—"

  The words "even if she dies" made me shrug off the man's hand and step back, glaring at the one who'd said it. It wasn't just what he said — it was how he said it. Carelessly. Like it didn't matter. He was talking about my sister's life — my sister, who was rushing to save strangers at the risk of facing someone stronger — like it was nothing.

  "Hide and wait? Coward!" I snarled, staring him dead in the eyes. "You abandoned the people you know and love to save your own skin, and you dare talk like that about someone braver than you? Someone walking into death for people she's never met?"

  "Boy, you—"

  "Shut up. It makes me sick looking at scum like you. Run. Hide. And pray that next time there's someone around to save you. Because there might not be."

  The man tried to respond, but choked on his words, shrinking into his shoulders. Behind him, the large woman gasped in a frightened whisper.

  "His eyes are glowing... They're glowing..."

  I spat at their feet, turned, and followed Mia.

  Reckless move on my part. My focus had barely just opened. I couldn't use a single technique I knew. So what exactly was I counting on, throwing myself into a hopeless fight?

  That my sister would stay alive.

  I hadn't survived two hundred years of hell just to abandon my family to their fate. Otherwise, how was I any better than those peasants who'd left everyone behind and run instead of fighting? I'd heard them begging Mia to save their families, while they themselves hadn't lifted a finger.

  So goddamn frustrating.

  I couldn't keep up with Mia no matter how hard I pushed. Legs too short, body too weak. Stronger than before, sure, but nowhere near the level I needed. And definitely not the level where I'd willingly pick a fight with someone who could use combat arts. On the other hand, the focus meant I wasn't completely defenseless anymore. I had a couple of surprises up my sleeve.

  Mentally, I was already sizing up my potential opponents. Unlikely anyone above the third stage of the tenth step, but even that was way too much for me. Did they have demonic techniques? Maybe, but probably nothing powerful.

  While I ran through all of this, the village came into view. Several houses were burning. On the road near the entrance, I spotted bodies. Two women and a child.

  "Bastards," I muttered, clenching my fists.

  No sign of Mia. No sign of the cultists either. I had to find her as fast as possible.

  I ran deeper into the village, passing more and more corpses. The cultists had gone wild in here. Vicious animals who deserved the hell I'd lived through more than anyone, but I'd never heard of any of them being condemned. There were theories that they had special contracts with the rulers of the lower rings — arrangements that let them dodge the Lords' justice.

  A woman screamed nearby. Without thinking, I bolted toward the sound, burst into a house, and found a perfectly ordinary-looking man holding a sword. At his feet, covered in blood and pressing a hand against a stomach wound, lay an older woman.

  Until that moment, I hadn't really thought about what cultists looked like. In the scary stories older kids told, they wore clothes made of human skin and armor made of bone. But this guy looked almost normal. On the street, I would've walked right past him. The only giveaway was his eyes — faint crimson sparks flickering in them, the sign of someone channeling demonic energy.

  The cultist turned slowly, then grinned, showing a mouthful of crooked yellow teeth.

  "And what do we have here?" asked a second voice, and a strong hand grabbed my collar and hoisted my scrawny body off the ground. "Hey kid, did we just kill your mommy? Aha ha ha ha..."

  I'd gone soft after months of peace. I hadn't even activated combat meditation when I entered the house — and I should have. Then I wouldn't have ended up in this pathetic, humiliating position.

  I thrashed once but realized immediately it was pointless. This wasn't the moment to try breaking free.

  "What, giving up already? Don't worry, you'll be joining mommy soon," said the one standing over the woman.

  "Just slit his throat already," the one holding me snorted. "Did you see the signal? The Lords' dogs will be here soon."

  "Pfft, their problem. Yo-Tug will flatten them."

  "Yeah? And if a master shows up?"

  "By the time one does, we'll be long gone."

  The two of them discussed it casually while the first one sauntered toward me, pulling a strange dagger from his belt — its hilt set with a glowing blue stone.

  That glow looked familiar.

  Soul Devourer.

  Or rather, something like it. If the sword that belonged to Sangranir was a powerful artifact that could also utilize the accumulated souls, this dagger was probably just a collector. The souls would be used much later.

  "Hold still, kid, and you'll die qui—"

  The cultist made a fatal mistake: he underestimated a little boy. He was going to casually shove the dagger into my chest, barely putting any effort into it. At the last possible second, I kicked his hand with everything I had. The dagger spun the other way and plunged into the man's own chest.

  "What?... How did—"

  He choked, staggered back, fell, and went pale before my eyes. The dagger was already devouring his soul. His partner flinched in shock and loosened his grip — which was exactly what I'd been waiting for.

  The instant I hit the floor, I lunged for the dagger. I had no weapon, so I was going to use a trophy.

  "You little shit!" came from behind me, and only the combat meditation I'd finally kicked on saved my life.

  The cultist pulled a whip from his spatial ring — made of bone segments and saturated with demonic energy. His strike sliced clean through his dead partner's body but missed me. I, however, now had the dagger in hand.

  "Die!"

  The whip hissed over my head, trailing heat, but I just smiled coldly. Dangerous weapon. In skilled hands, it could've killed me easily in my current state. But I wasn't fighting someone skilled. His swings were too wide, his accuracy terrible, his weapon control nonexistent. Good weapon, though. Had to give him that.

  "Will you stop jumping around?!"

  The room was already scored with dozens of smoking furrows, but the cultist still hadn't touched me. Meanwhile, he'd gone pale and was drenched in sweat. The whip was apparently hungry — actively draining its owner's strength. Normal for that kind of weapon. It either feeds off the wielder or off its victims, and since everyone around was already dead and I didn't have a scratch on me, the whip was eating him.

  "Wait... your eyes..."

  "Figured it out, huh?" I grinned and charged. The whip sent another wave of heat my way — and missed again. Why was this idiot carrying a weapon he had absolutely no idea how to use? Off the top of my head I could think of several simple combat styles for this kind of weapon across different fighting distances, and this guy was just flailing it around randomly.

  While he struggled to recover the whip, I was already on him. The blade sliced through his thigh effortlessly, and the cultist screamed, dropping to one knee.

  Now we were at the same height.

  "Wait... hold on—"

  "Can't handle a little kid?" I asked mockingly, and drove the dagger into his throat. The cultist gurgled, clutching at the wound with both hands, and collapsed, convulsing on the ground. I watched his suffering with perfect calm. Now he knew what it felt like — dying in agony. Still, I couldn't waste time on him, and I definitely couldn't leave him at my back.

  Two precise strikes of the dagger — first to the heart, then to the focus — ended his life. I grabbed his hand and sliced off the finger wearing the ring. Funny — I'd just been admiring the fact that my sister owned a spatial ring, and now I had one of my own. I wondered what was inside. Probably nothing valuable. The thing looked crude even on the outside — like a blacksmith's apprentice had botched his first project. The second cultist had a matching one.

  Not bad at all.

  I pocketed the ring and headed for the exit, making sure to grab the trophy whip on the way out. I hoped nothing had happened to Mia while I'd been busy.