Chapter 31
BOOM!
A deafening explosion echoed through the far end of the Scarlet Faction's training grounds, where even the boldest warriors rarely ventured. The land here was barren and scarred, as though it had witnessed centuries of war in just a few weeks.
Cracks webbed across the dusty earth. A once-mighty boulder now lay shattered, reduced to crumbling debris by a single force.
Jayden stood at the epicenter of the destruction, motionless. His short, messy black hair danced with the wind as crimson eyes burned like twin flames in the gloom. The wreckage around him was a testament to hours—no, days—of brutal training.
He clenched his fist, veins slightly bulging.
"Still not enough…" he muttered.
He had been tempering his body for weeks, pushing beyond mortal limits to unlock the full power of the Eight Inner Gates. His bones ached. His muscles screamed. But Blake—that smug bastard—was only two weeks away. Two weeks from the death duel. And Jayden wasn't sure if he was ready.
"I will grow stronger… and defeat you, Blake," he recalled his oath.
A bold declaration.
But so far? No clear way to actually do it.
"Yeah, great words, past-me," he scoffed dryly.
Suddenly, a low rumble pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to his left—another boulder, smaller but solid, exploded in a burst of dust.
"Haaah… haaah…"
A familiar figure stumbled back, gasping for breath. It was Eren—Jayden's self-proclaimed disciple. The boy's small fists trembled, his chest heaving. Yet, despite the exhaustion, he stood again… and launched another punch.
Jayden raised an eyebrow.
This kid…
He was undeniably training harder than Jayden himself. And oddly enough—he was making progress.
No spiritual energy. No cultivation plane.
So how the hell was a kid like him reducing rocks to rubble?
Simple.
He could wield chakra.
Yeah. You heard that right.
---
Flashback:
"Sensei…" Eren said, eyes shining with anticipation, fists clenched tightly. "Is it time? Will you finally teach me the secret technique?"
Jayden's eye twitched.
This brat.
He had tried everything to keep Eren busy—pushups, boulder-punching, sherp-herding in a thunderstorm—but the boy always completed his tasks. Why? Because Jayden had stupidly lied about a "special technique" suitable only for Eren.
Now the kid was back. Hopeful. Determined.
Jayden sighed.
"Eren," he said seriously. "I think… you should find another teacher."
The boy blinked. "W-What?"
"I don't know anything about spiritual energy. Or martial arts. Or life, really," Jayden added, scratching his neck. "I'm just… winging it."
Eren froze. His joy evaporated like steam from hot tea. His head dropped, eyes misting. Silent tears began to fall.
Well, crap, Jayden thought.
I just broke the spirit of a ten-year-old.
He crouched down, gently patting the kid's head. "Don't worry. I'll find a way to help you."
He didn't know how yet. Maybe throw a big sword at him and say, "Become the next Zabuza." But Eren looked more like a brawler than a swordsman.
Just then—ding!
> System Notification:
Would Host like to initiate Chakra Transfer to Target: Eren?
Note: Transfer capacity limited to receiver's body absorption rate.
Jayden's brows twitched. Wait, what?!
He blinked at the screen, thoughts racing.
This world used spiritual energy, not chakra. But maybe—just maybe—Eren was compatible precisely because he lacked a spiritual core.
Still… there was a problem.
Jayden needed chakra for himself. The Eight Gates weren't going to power themselves.
He grumbled but hovered over the "accept" button like a man reluctantly donating his last slice of pizza.
"Fine. But if I die in that death duel, I'm haunting this small brat."
He pressed it.
A soft blue light enveloped his palm and seeped into Eren's chest.
Jayden felt it immediately.
His chakra reserves were draining fast.
20,000 → 18,000 → 16,000 → 14,000…
"Okay, okay, stop now!" Jayden shouted. "WHAT ARE YOU, A DAMN CHAKRA BLACK HOLE?!"
As if the system read his frustration, it halted. Jayden dropped to one knee, pale and trembling.
---
Jayden groaned, checking his reserves.
"The SP I'll need to get that chakra back… that's gonna hurt."
He glanced at Eren, who stood still, fists glowing faintly with power. The boy opened his eyes wide, sparkles of energy swirling inside his pupils.
"Master," he whispered. "I feel… different. Like I've awakened. Am I using spiritual energy now?"
Jayden nodded vaguely. "Let's just say… it's a special kind."
Now came the hard part. Teaching him a jutsu.
He considered a few:
Rasengan? Too technical. Too chakra-intensive.
Shadow Clone? No. Jayden barely had chakra left to clone himself, let alone train a kid with it.
Chidori? Cool… but too fast, too risky. Plus, Eren might accidentally electrocute himself and blame Jayden for "emotional damage."
Water Dragon? Ha. No water. Just rocks and regret out here.
Just then, a memory surged into Jayden's mind—the perfect technique for Eren. The Eight Inner Gates.
It was reckless, dangerous, and designed to break the body's natural limits… but it fit Eren in a way no other technique ever could. Ever since that day, he began training the boy to wield the forbidden art. Surprisingly—or perhaps not—Eren managed to open the First Gate within a week. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to shatter boulders and leave scorch marks on the earth.
Back to the present—
"Second Gate: Gate of Healing… Open!"
A surge of invisible force burst around Eren as his feet cracked the ground beneath. His muscles bulged slightly, veins becoming more pronounced as a faint blue-green aura radiated off his body. His dull eyes flared with vitality, and his skin glistened as if ignited from within.
Jayden blinked in surprise. "Already… the second gate?" he muttered.
With a roar, Eren launched himself toward a boulder nearly twice the size of the one Jayden had demolished earlier. The wind screamed from the sheer force of his movement, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might actually shatter it.
BOOM!
Dust clouded the area as cracks spiderwebbed across the boulder's face. But when it cleared, only a dent marked the result.
Eren turned back, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his brow. "Master… I've gotten stronger…" he said with a weary smile—then collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut.
Jayden rushed forward, catching him before his body hit the ground. "Tch… this kid."
It was clear—Eren had pushed past his limits again. He still had a long way to go before he could sustain the second gate for more than mere seconds.
Jayden hoisted the unconscious boy onto his back and began walking toward the servant quarters. As he trudged through the faction grounds, he could feel the weight of stares.
Pity. Always pity.
Ever since the news of the Death Duel spread, the entire faction had decided one thing:
Jayden was already dead.
"Isn't that him?" a voice whispered.
"The guy fighting Blake…"
"I heard he trains day and night, like a man trying to outrun death."
"If it were me, I'd just enjoy my final days in peace…"
Jayden didn't react. His face remained deadpan, emotionless, unreadable. But the words pierced deeper than any blade.
He laid Eren down gently in the modest servant quarters. As he stepped out, a voice halted his steps.
"Well, well… look who's still breathing."
Jayden turned. Standing before him was a group he really hadn't planned to see today—Oblivion Coil.
Zon, the dangerously calm leader, stepped forward. "Relax. We're not here to cause trouble," he said, raising his hands mockingly. "After all… what's the point of fighting someone who's already got one foot in the grave?"
Laughter echoed behind him. Jayden's hands clenched, but his face remained unreadable.
"What do you want?" he asked, voice flat.
"Elder Damier asked us to bring you. Apparently, there's a 'special mission' he want your help with."
Jayden's heart sank a little. Damier.
If there was one man in this faction he could never trust, it was him. The very same elder who exiled him before he could even take the trial. The same one who had ties to the Oblivion Coil… and now he wanted a favor?
"…Fine," Jayden said coldly.
He followed them through the winding paths into the core of the faction—a place most could only dream of seeing.
The Elder Quarters.
The difference was night and day. Elegant white stone structures lined with silver vines. Towering fountains of flowing crystal-clear essence. Everything reeked of power and privilege.
They entered a polished building, and inside, seated at a round marble table sipping tea and picking at glossy fruits like a man with no care in the world—Elder Damier.
His golden eyebrows and slick yellow hair made him look like a noble out of an old epic, but to Jayden, all he saw was a snake in fine robes.
"Ah… you're here," Damier said, smiling as if he hadn't once cast Jayden out like garbage. "Come, sit."
Jayden approached slowly, seating himself with rigid shoulders, his eyes blank, cold.
The elder poured him tea. Jayden hesitated but took a sip only after his system scanned it for poison.
"I hear you're fighting Blake," Damier began, swirling his cup. "What a… curious situation. How did a genius fall so low?"
Jayden didn't respond. He could see the subtle smirk behind the elder's words. This wasn't concern. It was mockery.
A test to see how far the mighty had fallen.
"If this is all you brought me here for, I'll be leaving," Jayden said, rising.
But Damier's voice sharpened. "You should learn some respect, boy."
Jayden didn't flinch.
Damier sighed, placing his cup down. "I called you because there's a mission I need completed—"
"Not interested," Jayden cut in flatly.
Damier's expression twitched. "You would dare speak to your elder like that?"
"You can add it to the public quest board. Someone else will take it."
"No. I want you to take it."
Jayden turned to leave again, until—
"I'll give you three hundred Spirit Gathering Pills."
Jayden froze.
Three hundred?
That wasn't just a bribe. That was a treasure trove. Enough to break bottlenecks, restore reserves, even push him toward the next stage if used wisely. That much… for one mission?
"…Three hundred?" Jayden repeated slowly.
Elder Damier's golden brows twitched as he clenched his teeth behind a forced smile. Three hundred spirit gathering pills… The cost alone could bankrupt a mid-tier faction, and even for an elder, it was a heavy sacrifice. He'd rather chew a live rock than part with such wealth—but he needed this done.
He composed himself, folding his hands gracefully on the table like a noble sipping tea instead of plotting someone's death.
"If you complete the quest," he said slowly, "they're yours."
Jayden stared at him, deadpan as ever, the same face he used to scold Lolly for stealing his bread. But inside, gears were turning.
Either he wants me dead that badly… or wanted to be broke that badly.
Jayden leaned forward, voice low. "Tell me what the quest is."
Damier smiled—too quickly. "Ah, nothing too difficult. I just need you to get me… an Ice Lotus."
Jayden blinked. "An Ice Lotus?" His tone didn't change, but the sarcasm leaked through like venom. "You're an earth elementalist. That thing won't increase your cultivation even if you stuffed it down your throat and danced naked in a frost storm."
Damier coughed, clearly caught off guard. "I-It's not for me. It's for… a friend. A very... cold friend. Just get it."
Jayden raised a brow. "Where?"
Damier leaned back, folding his arms like he was reading out of a cursed bedtime story. "There are three known locations where an Ice Lotus blooms. First—"
"The Aurora Forest."
Jayden's body froze. A memory flashed—bloodied trees, beast roars, the suffocating aura of death. That hellhole was the very first place he'd woken up in after transmigrating to this cursed world. A place where his only friends were starvation, paranoia, and a wild wolf he'd once named "Dinner" before Dinner nearly ate him.
His hand moved to the hilt of his dagger. "Hell. No."
He stood.
"Wait!" Damier shouted, his calm facade crumbling. "There are other options!"
Jayden paused, his back to him. He wasn't sitting again, not in this lair of smiles and schemes.
"There's the Urn Empire—"
"Too far."
"Exactly,"
"That leaves us with only one option…" Elder Damier's voice dropped like a dramatic drumbeat. "The Ice Chamber."
Jayden raised an eyebrow. "Okay," he said flatly, face unreadable as ever, like someone being told they had to take out the trash in a thunderstorm.
Elder Damier resisted the urge to scream. If it weren't for the stupid faction laws, he'd have strangled the boy on the spot. "The Ice Chamber," he repeated, forcing calm into his voice, "is located at the far end of Scarlet City. Getting there is... relatively simple."
Jayden squinted. "Define relatively."
The elder coughed, suddenly looking everywhere but at Jayden. "You'll be fine."
"Right," Jayden deadpanned, already calculating the odds of dying on this mission and wondering if spirit pills were really worth the frostbite.
Still…
Three hundred spirit gathering pills.
He could convert them into SP.
And SP meant power.
And power… meant Blake's smug little face getting stomped into the dirt.
"Two hundred upfront," Jayden said, finally.
Damier winced. But he nodded, his smile returning like a roach that refuses to die.
"Deal."
Jayden turned and walked out without another word, the weight of the pills in his pouch and a storm brewing in his mind.
---
Moments Later –
The door creaked.
A figure sauntered in like he owned the place, without even a knock. He poured himself tea, swirled it like a noble, and took a sip as if mocking everything the elder stood for.
Zon.
The bane of Jayden's existence. The peacock who couldn't beat Jayden in a fight, so he used connections instead of fists.
Zon set the cup down with a grin sharp enough to cut a dream in half.
"To think he bit the bait…"
Damier gave a twisted chuckle, slumping into his chair like he'd just pulled off a royal con.
"Not even a rat in this faction would take on the Ice Chamber," Zon said. "And our 'Walking Dead' hero walks in headfirst."
The two burst into laughter, echoing through the halls like a symphony of snakes.
---
Meanwhile – Somewhere Close To Scarlet City
Two figures stood in the wind. They wore sleek, jet-black armor etched with red lines. On their chests burned a blood-red S—the symbol of something far worse than mere war.
"Scythe," one said, voice low, dragging out each word like it was a chore. He had a flaming red mohawk and a sigh in every breath. "Are we seriously doing this? This guy's just some traitor, right? Worships money now?"
The other, taller, cloaked in a bladed black cape, nodded once. "General's orders. The spy abandoned his post. Our mission is to make sure he will abandon his life."
The mohawk guy cracked his knuckles, already bored. "Since we're in the neighborhood… maybe we take a few elders down while we're at it. Scarlet Faction's been a pain in the ass for too long."
Scythe smiled beneath his mask. "They've forgotten what fear really is. Let's remind them."
---
To Be Continued.