dark descendent lurking fate

The midnight air was heavy with the scent of pine, old blood, and lightning. Beneath a moonless sky, the forest was alive with tension, trees trembling under the impact of each clash.

Ash stood shirtless, his chest rising and falling as sweat rolled down his neck. His right arm was gashed, his knuckles bruised, and the hem of his robes had been burned in three places. Before him snarled the Tier 4 Blood Wolf, its crimson fur gleaming faintly, eyes blazing with hatred and territorial rage.

Ash spat blood to the side.

> "Come on then," he growled. "Let's see who's the real beast."

The wolf lunged.

---

The Fight Unleashed

Ash sidestepped, twisted low, and struck upward with a slash from his Vulcan-forged blade. Sparks flew as steel scraped fang. The wolf circled, then leapt again—only this time, its claws shimmered with blood essence.

Ash didn't retreat.

Instead, he planted his feet, met the attack head-on, and roared.

His body shimmered faintly, spirit energy compressing in his veins. Gorran's strength surged through his muscles—the weight of a Tier 5 beast spirit reinforcing his very skeleton.

> "You're strong, wolf…"

"…but I've fought worse."

He spun mid-air and brought his blade down in a cleaving arc.

With a furious yelp, the wolf stumbled—its left eye bloodied, one leg trembling.

Ash didn't hesitate.

He dashed forward, twisted the sword backward in his grip, and drove it through the beast's throat.

Silence fell.

The Blood Wolf shivered, then collapsed. Its breath stopped. Its spirit, still blazing with primal fury, rose into the air like a storm of red mist.

Ash knelt, breath ragged. He began the claiming process.

---

A Name and A Throne

The spirit resisted.

It howled. Bit. Screamed.

It tried to push into Ash's mind, to fracture his focus, to reject his body.

But Ash had already claimed Mrit, the monstrous torturer. He had claimed Gorran, the Golden Bone Ape. This was nothing new.

> "You belong to me now," Ash said quietly.

After an intense two-minute struggle that drained nearly half his remaining qi, the spirit suddenly pulsed… and gave in.

Ash gasped.

A rush of foreign instinct, bloodlust, and wild movement filled his body. He tasted forest soil, fur, and the thrill of the hunt.

> "I'll call you… Varnok," he whispered.

"The Crimson Fang."

Ash leaned back against a tree, panting. He didn't cross a major boundary this time—he was still deep within Core Vein Formation—but he could feel his energy becoming more refined. His bond with spirits was deepening. His own soul was evolving.

> "But still…"

"…Throne Manifestation feels so far away."

He had three powerful beast spirits now—but Shen Mu had warned him. Even fifty Tier 5 spirits wouldn't be enough alone.

> "Then I'll find another path," Ash murmured to himself.

> "I don't need shortcuts. I'll make one."

---

Somewhere Else – An Unseen Report

Far from the forest clearing, in a dim military outpost carved into a cliff face, a masked figure stood before a council of cloaked individuals.

Her armor was cracked at the side. Her left arm was in a sling. But her presence radiated authority.

> "You were injured?" one of the elders asked, voice rough with age.

> "Yes," the woman said. "Not by the Blood Wolf. By a boy."

The room murmured.

> "He fought you in the dark?"

"And he escaped?"

"You couldn't identify him?"

The woman didn't flinch.

> "No. He couldn't see me either."

> "And he wounded you?" another asked.

> "I've dueled thirteen cultivators in Core Vein Formation. I've never bled this much," she admitted, almost grudgingly.

Her pride was bruised—but her eyes held a glint of curiosity.

> "This boy… wasn't normal."

> "Is he from a noble clan?"

> "No." She paused. "He didn't fight like someone trained in palace duels. He fought like a man who had killed before."

The council was silent.

One finally spoke.

> "You said you were second among the Core Vein warriors under our command."

"If this boy is real, and he's unknown… he could disrupt every power balance in the region."

Another added, "And if someone claims him first—he may become a throne bearer under the wrong banner."

The woman, whose name was Commander Aenya, raised her eyes.

> "Find him. Watch the sects. Watch the clans. Someone will recognize his blade work soon enough."

---

Back at the Sect

Ash had returned by dawn, slipping into the sect with dried blood on his shoulder and a tired smile hidden under his hood.

He avoided the attention of the guards.

What he didn't realize was that someone had already begun searching for him.

Not Yan Zhi.

Not Rin.

Not even the sect elders.

But someone from beyond this realm's normal battlefield.

Someone who now whispered his name beneath their breath—not because of his background, but because of the fear he inspired in the dark.