The sky had gone overcast around Lake Baikal. Temperature shifted unpredictably owing to the fractured Ki structure of the area. Pockets of very hot and dry areas stood adjacent to areas of damp and cold winds – the afternoon settled in bleak and unstable.

  Then came a sudden surge of crushing, heavy energy.

  “What the hell was that?” Talgat asked as he leaped ahead and beheaded a wizard. “What was that energy?”

  Fiona froze – wide-eyed, open-mouthed, dumbfounded, and shivering in fear. “It can’t be…” She was a Mystic, an expert, experienced one. She could tell.

  The Demonic energy bubble holding Renekom and his partners prisoner at the shore got cracked under the pressure. All of them inside felt the weight, but it was still not enough to let them escape.

  At the border, Tiago Mora caught Neil who had lost his balance just as so many others around them.

  “Are you alright, kid?” he asked.

  Neil looked at him. “What was that energy? For a moment it felt like my Ki was getting ripped out of me.”

  “I don’t know. This thick Ki cloud has contaminated the entire area. I can’t say anything for sure – I can’t sense right. But it felt like it was coming from the Palace.”

  Inside the forest, Camille and Marcus felt it too.

  “That was one hell of a power surge, man,” the young man said under his breath.

  “Yeah.” The Sokidu nodded looking to her left.

  The duo sat observing in silence, grief-stricken but distracted by the unusual surge of energy. They were away from the war centre. They could feel it more strongly and with much more clarity. Like a pulse, like small explosions, the unsettling energy kept leaking. Close enough and with lesser barriers in their way, Camille and Marcus kept sensing wave after wave.

  “We have to leave now,” Marcus said. “We’ve got to get back to the city.”

  Without looking over, Camille said, “Take him.”

  As her head dropped, she added, “Ta- take my brother… back to the city, Marc… please…”

  “What about you?” he quickly asked.

  “I have to go…”

  “Where?”

  She pointed in the direction the energy was coming from.

  Marcus leaned ahead exclaiming, “Are you mad?!”

  Camille looked at him. “Take another look, Marc. You’ve sensed that kind of energy before…”

  The fire-breathing Sokidu paused. After looking in that direction once more, he stared at his teammate wide-eyed. “Is that…?”

  “Mm-hmm… it’s got to be him.”

  “Well, if he’s rocking out then let him! Why would you go there?”

  “Marc, just go! Please!”

  Marcus bent down, slipped an arm under Hugo’s, and pulled him up onto his back. The weight was not just physical. He stood there for a moment, adjusting his grip – then turned toward the city and began walking.

  Camille slowly stood up. She found it tough to move on.

  Another wave of energy hit.

  She felt the weight and finally began to move. She walked briskly, then began jogging, and was soon running at full pace leaping over debris and making ground quickly.

  Close enough, she saw smoke rising from the damaged Regal Palace, but she could tell that her destination was beyond. So, she leaped up high onto the walls of the large structure and kept going until she arrived on the rooftop of the southern tower.

  She saw the Royal Academy of Martial Prowess just up ahead – the source of the energy surge.

  ‘There’s no doubt about it,’ she thought, nodding. ‘That’s him…’

  Towering pitch-black flames were roaring into the sky.

  ‘He’s at the main training ground. But what’s he doing? I can’t even sense his soul anymore…’

  Even at the academy ground, no one was prepared for it. Even Ambris Ferrer had lost all composure. His hasty cries for attack had forced all his aides into action. The 39 Serpents of God, led by the Basilisk himself, had simultaneously unleashed upon Vincent.

  But the White Bolt was no longer worried.

  He had already let go of all restraints.

  They attacked ferociously. He retaliated – calm, composed, and calculated. His strength had been amped up manyfold and knew no bounds. His eyes burned black and the dark flames radiating from him, that had started to damage his clothes, did not seem to bother or damage him at all. Light was bending and swerving in an odd manner near him, making it tough for his adversaries to pinpoint him. Partially blinded, unsure, and hesitant, the Serpents were being manhandled. And the darkness was quickly spreading across the ground.

  With blinding speed, Vincent comfortably bludgeoned heavy blows one after the other upon the powerless bandits and wizards. And when he put full effort into it, a single uppercut to the face of a Serpent cracked his skull and threw him 75 meters away. He crashed into the main building of the academy, dying on the spot.

  His attacks were now too hot to handle even for Ambris himself who put layers upon layers of Ki in front of himself. But just one swivel-kick from the bounty hunter and they all shattered like glass.

  Vincent had learned the Dark Arts of Rasalhague to destroy the remnants of the Xoitique Diamond because only Dark Ki could truly demolish the Celestial objects. However, one other thing the Dark Arts were good for was the forbidden, accursed Dark Ki Manipulation…

  “You know Dark Ki!” Ambris yelled, lying on his back, crawling away. “How the hell did you do it, demon kid?!”

  Vincent slowly walked towards him. “Make peace with your false Gods, bastard. This is the last time you’ll breathe!”

  He grinned, nervously, as he raised an eyebrow. “You’ll die too, boy. The Dark Ki you’ve summoned – it will consume your soul!”

  Every part of his soul was extracting Dark Ki from deep within the metaphysical confines of space and time and that negative, dark energy was latching on, eating away at his very life force like a leech.

  He jerked his head dismissively. “My soul died a long time ago…”

  With a loud cry, Ambris threw a strong and dense Ki blast at Vincent who brushed it aside like it was nothing. As the Basilisk leaped away, his Serpents engaged the White Bolt once more.

  Landing beside him, a wizard asked, “What the hell is that energy?!”

  “You imbecile!” Ambris exclaimed. “That’s the Dark Ki!”

  “What?! How is it that strong? It should’ve been proportionate to the Ki he had left!”

  “It’s proportionate to the soul. The stronger the soul, the more Dark Ki it can attract. Ah!” He shook his head, grinning. “This motherfucker always had a strong soul! But how did he learn Dark Ki?!”

  Someone attacked with swords, someone tried long-range spells, someone attempted with evocations, while someone else attempted elemental Ki Manipulation – wizardry, Martial Arts, dark magic – none of it mattered. Their weapons were used against them or shattered like they were toys, their spells were rendered useless without any real effort, and their evocations refused to even engage running away at the sight of the White Bolt. Those that did engage, disintegrated before they even got close.

  “You were always the strong one, Ambris,” Vincent yelled. “You liked being more powerful than everyone else. Well, tell me! How does it feel to lose at your own game?!”

  One by one, the Serpents of God were being brought down mercilessly.

  Some even tried to escape. However, the White Bolt, now moving at hypersonic speeds, very easily made sure they could not.

  For a moment, his head dropped as he paused. Something tore deep within – not flesh, not bone. The bounty hunter felt pieces of him being eaten away.

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  He ignored it and looked ahead once more. There were still plenty of Serpents left to kill.

  Outside the Royal Academy, Camille walked in the shadows carefully. Using her skills as a spotter to full effect, she approached the walled structure hidden and unseen. Prying open a shutter on the western wall then, she climbed inside.

  The Sokidu could feel a weight falling down on her. It was worrisome. She needed to charge her Ki to repel the effects of the pressure, but that could give her position away.

  She tried sensing for Ki signatures. All there was in the entire area was one massive spread of unusual energy which did not resemble anything she had ever felt except for a silhouette she once saw around Vincent – she could only sense the Dark Ki.

  ‘That’s so heavy,’ she thought. ‘It should mask me… shouldn’t it?’

  The weight had started becoming unbearable. She could barely breathe. So, she charged her Ki.

  The effects of the Dark Ki were not so unbearable anymore. Camille could breathe better and sense better. But she could only feel a few dim Ki signatures close by and even these were waning fast.

  Slowly she walked out of the office she had arrived in. Treading through the hallway, taking every step carefully, the Sokidu stepped out into a ground-level loggia. Pillars and arches lined the open side of the passage. But beyond was a disturbing sight.

  She had been here before. She had seen the academy many times and had visited these halls, offices, and grounds time and again.

  She stared, wide-eyed. The training ground of the Academy before her stretched out from just a few steps beyond the passage. The stoned floor, distant trees dividing the area, and the monuments had all been reduced to rubble.

  And at its heart, she saw what was visible all the way from the Palace – towering pitch-black flames.

  Stuck behind a pillar, Camille observed. She began to notice – mutilated bodies, ripped apart and eviscerated, were scattered all around the expansive area.

  A whisper escaped her – “What in God’s name is all this?”

  Gripped by fear, she felt a shiver going down her spine. She kept trying to look away, disgusted by the violence, but everywhere she looked the scenes were the same.

  ‘That’s why I couldn’t sense anyone,’ she thought. ‘Everyone’s already dead!’

  Then she felt movement and heard another blast. The Sokidu finally mustered up the strength to move ahead.

  As she stepped onto the training ground, the floor beneath her felt soft like mud while the air felt thick. Visibility was down with pockets of dark flames distorting visuals. Avoiding the fires, she slid behind the rubble of a large monument and waited. There was a dead bandit at her feet. She noticed the robe.

  ‘Wait a minute, I know that symbol,’ she thought as she observed the symbol on the back of the robe with three intertwined serpents. Then it hit her. ‘That’s the symbol of Ambris’s Cult – the Serpents of God!’

  Hesitantly, Camille peeked from the side of the rubble. An explosion of Ki doused some of the flames clearing her line of sight. She looked. ‘Oh my God! That’s him! That’s Vincent!’

  She saw the bounty hunter burning dark. His clothes had all but burned away and his eyes appeared completely black. She also noticed subtle dark scars starting to show on his skin.

  ‘And there he is – Ambris!’

  Vincent, the White Bolt, had grabbed Ambris’s basilisks by their tails, one in each hand. He leaped in the air and came down fast smashing the serpents like nunchakus atop Ambris. They disintegrated quickly after. And he proceeded to unleash a barrage of Ki blasts. The brute had no answer and nowhere left to run.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Camille’s heart raced. She had never felt power like that before. She had heard all the stories and knew all the legends. Ambris Ferrer was no ordinary arcanist. He was one of the strongest beings of his time.

  On the other hand, she had worked alongside Vincent. The two even fought together in Spain. And although his speed was unmatched and his strength formidable, it was nowhere near the mythic level of someone like the Basilisk.

  What beheld before her was not consistent with her beliefs. The energy radiating from Vincent was beyond anything she had ever felt – unhinged, raw, and more powerful than even the combined might of the Zeta Squad and their captain, more powerful than anything at the Eye’s disposal or the Order’s. It was dark, repellent, heavy, and unsettling. Even Ambris Ferrer paled in comparison.

  A few of the last remaining Serpents of God charged at the bounty hunter in hopes of protecting their leader who was still lying on the ground. But their attack proved worthless. One look from Vincent froze them mid approach. One foot smashing on the ground threw them away. Then he attacked hard and fast.

  One bandit tried swinging his sword at him. But as soon as the blade touched Vincent’s skin, it shattered like glass. A punch from the bounty hunter went straight through the man’s chest while another tore open a hole in his abdomen. As he then pulled his hands apart, the hapless bandit shattered into pieces like a porcelain statue dropped on stone.

  The flaming bounty hunter proceeded to grab a dull, edge-worn blade. The other five serpents could not trouble him any more than the first one and were torn apart even more painfully and even more brutally.

  ‘Those eyes…’ Camille began to realise what was going on. ‘Oh no… what’ve you done to yourself…’

  She quickly moved away to her left and found shade behind some uprooted stone tiles and rubble. As she crouched down and observed Vincent, she noticed a fallen fighter crawling towards her. She was forced to look but did not recognize him at first. All she saw was a swollen face, torn up clothes, and a body that bent wrong at the waist, his legs lifeless as he clawed forward with his arms.

  Then she realised. ‘It can’t be…’

  Camille stared wide-eyed.

  It indeed was – Ambris Ferrer.

  The Basilisk was forced to crawl away and hide. But before he could reach Camille or the cover of the rubble, Vincent landed on top of him. The bounty hunter’s feet dug into his lower back as he screamed. His body folded into an arch.

  “Where’re you going, Basilisk?!” Vincent exclaimed and grabbed Ambris by his hair.

  As he got off his back and dragged him by his hair, he added, “There’s no escape for you now, BASTARD!”

  The White Bolt threw the limping leader of the Serpents of God away. He smashed into the ground and rolled away like a rag doll.

  Vincent began walking towards Ambris once more. But only after taking a few steps, he paused and got bent ahead. His eyes tightly shut, he waited for a few seconds. Camille heard a soft grunt before the bounty hunter regained his composure and rushed off.

  In midair, he shot flames at the stranded Basilisk. It struck. Ambris screamed in pain as his skin burned off his chest. Vincent landed atop with a foot on either side of him.

  “LOOK AT ME, FERRER!”

  He grabbed Ambris by the throat and leaned in.

  “WHY AREN’T YOU LAUGHING NOW?” he exclaimed. “CAT CAUGHT YOUR TONGUE?!”

  Choked, the Basilisk could not speak. He grabbed Vincent’s wrist and gasped for air. But the bounty hunter remained unfazed.

  “TIME TO DIE, BASILISK!”

  Vincent picked his neck up six inches off the ground and swiftly smashed him back down before finally letting go. A relentless onslaught of heavy punches then rained down like hellfire upon Ambris. His face, chest, shoulders, and neck received a beating of a life time – or perhaps two lifetimes. Never had the rogue Martial Artist ever felt overpowered like that. He could not move and could not defend.

  Without stopping even for a moment, Vincent crushed him.

  “LAUGH, MOTHERFUCKER!”

  Ambris’s upper-body had been completely plastered on the ground, but the bounty hunter did not stop there. Extending his arm, he stretched open his palm barely six inches from the lifeless man’s face. The Ki blast that followed tore open a crater six feet wide. And he finally stepped back slowly.

  Camille had a hand covering her mouth as her eyes shivered. The gentleness she had felt when she first met Vincent was no longer there, the controlled aggression she witnessed in Spain was neither. The violence intimidated her as much as the bounty hunter’s waning soul worried her.

  The last three serpents approached from the right.

  Camille remained crouched behind the rubble, eyes fixed on the chaos ahead. She saw Vincent bending awkwardly as he moved towards the serpents.

  As he threw two of them away, the third one attacked wielding a sword. Within seconds, his weapon was in Vincent’s hand and he proceeded to easily behead the wizard.

  He closed his eyes shut tightly. For a moment, he paused, then looked and moved on. Clutching the right shoulder with the left hand, he moved towards the next wizard and cut him into three pieces.

  The sword fell from the bounty hunter’s hand as he fell to his knees wrapping arms around his waist.

  ‘He’s hurting,’ Camille thought and, without realizing, leaned forward. What had once been just her eyes peering out became her full face – then her shoulder, then half her body exposed beyond the broken stone. She wanted to help, but suddenly, Vincent stood back up again.

  Hardly 20 feet away now, the Sokidu got a much better reading of Vincent’s Ki flow. It was waning, deteriorating. The Dark Ki was eating away his clusters. The damage had even started to show physically – internal organs were now getting damaged.

  Suddenly, he looked over – their eyes met.

  She froze, overcome by fear, and stared into his black burning eyes.

  Shaking his head, Vincent quickly moved away in search of the last serpent who was quietly observing this exchange from the shadows. He figured the young lady was someone the bounty hunter knew. Otherwise, he would have attacked her as well. So, in hopes of grabbing her and using her as leverage, he rushed towards Camille.

  She saw the approaching cloaked figure and stood up. However, only a few feet away from the frozen still Sokidu, the entire length of Vincent’s battered sword went straight through his head.

  The tip of the blade stopped inches from Camille sprinkling a few drops of blood on her face as she stared wide-eyed, shocked, and dumbfounded.

  Camille rushed back while Vincent retracted the sword and proceeded to chop the bandit like a loaf of bread. She noticed something different – the White Bolt’s eyes were no longer burning. She could see the usual grey and white in his eyes.

  Vincent clutched his chest as he groaned and came down kneeling. Placing the other hand on the waist, he bent ahead and screamed in pain. The flames were still burning dark. He picked up the broken sword again. There were no enemies left, but he stood up and began thrashing away in thin air.

  “No, you maniac!” he screamed. “STOP! Don’t do it!”

  Camille moved a further step back as he kept swinging the sword at the rubble and the open air.

  “Give her back!” he yelled. “What did they ever do to you! You’re killing her! GIVE HER BACK TO ME!”

  Her heart sank as she moved a step ahead this time and saw tears flowing down his cheeks. ‘He must be hallucinating…’

  “You took them ALL!” Vincent yelled again. “My father! My mother! My brother!”

  His voice was breaking. He was shaking. Camille softly called, “Vincent…”

  He looked at her and whimpered asking, “Why was I left? Why didn’t he kill me?”

  The sword fell from his hand as he began trembling. He coughed blood and wrapped his hands around his body. Stumbling around the ground, he kept moving eventually clutching his head with both hands.

  Eyes tightly shut, he dropped his head and quietly said, “Why was I left alive?”

  Camille moved closer and again said, “Vincent…”

  The flames around his body had begun to disappear.

  “Hey,” she called.

  “Why?” he whispered and tried to move again. But this time, he could not. One foot he dragged but the other did not budge.

  Camille rushed ahead.

  He fell.

  She caught him.

  In her lap, he opened his eyes, whispered, “Just let me die…” and then slowly passed out.