Gust kept close to Saith’s home’s wall as he made his way to the entrance.

Only seconds passed before the rest of the group found him. Isaac’s cold blue eyes flared with fury. Levi and Lyth were close by, along with a girl Gust didn’t know. They were carefully keeping their distance, merely several yards away but they remained unharmed.

Levi took a step forward before the unnamed girl grabbed at his robes, pulled him back, and pointed toward the bloody mess in the middle of the road. One grey-sleeved hand with green roots around the cuff rose to cover her mouth as her face twisted with disgust.

“What did you do, Demon?” Isaac asked with an icy tone.

Gust shook his head and continued to struggle around the house, using the wall to hold himself up. “To be honest… I have no idea.” He chuckled and winced. “Besides… he attacked me.” Even as he explained, Gust wondered why he bothered. Isaac already knew that and wouldn’t care.

Gust’s free hand was pressed against his wound, but blood continued to pour out. He just wanted to make it into his father’s cabin. A small part of his mind knew he would just die in there instead of out here, but even that was an improvement.

Isaac glared at the dead young man. The sight didn’t seem to bother him. “I will get you for this,” he growled.

Between the blood loss and that asshole’s attitude, Gust just didn’t care anymore. Normally, he would have been careful about provoking someone stronger than him, but clearly that ship had sailed. “Oh really? From way over there? You’re stronger than your friends, aren’t you? Why don’t you give it a shot?” Thinking fast, Gust paused and pulled out Saith’s golden coin. He tossed it on the ground between himself and Isaac. “Go on. Take it.”

Isaac sneered and shook his head. Suddenly, he grinned and changed his stance to expose a small leather pouch at his waist. He slapped it and a flying wooden sword shot out like a bullet.

Gust knew it was already too late. He had seen how quickly those weapons could fly and knew there was no chance to dodge it. So, he pushed off the wall and gave Isaac a flat, defiant look. “At least it’s all over,” he thought, closing his eyes. “I can stop struggling.”

As the blade crossed the path, however, it burst into splinters. Wood chips clattered to the ground at Gust’s feet and a battered his shins. One of his eyes cracked open and looked down at the broken wood, then up at the red-faced boy, and Gust realized he was going to live.

The pain in his ribs returned and reminded him he would only live for now.

Gust didn’t pay the smallest bit of attention to the sounds that followed him as he rushed inside. Some were threats, others were obviously more weapons falling to pieces as they tried to stab him in the back.

But one was different.

Isaac reached into his robes and pulled something out. If Gust had looked back, he would have seen a small snake the width of a finger, and as long as his forearm, curled up in Isaac’s hand. He spoke to it briefly and fed it a dried flower petal the color of blood, then sent the serpent in, against Levi’s warnings.

Isaac’s eyes bulged as the snake burst apart as soon as it touched the array of sword mana. He felt a sharp pain in his soul and tasted blood.

When Gust stepped into Saith’s home, he glanced around for bandages but had no idea where anything would be. From what he knew, when students were seriously injured, they would take medicinal pills and cultivate, or head to the medical ward. The elders would intervene if necessary, and they considered intervention worth it, but how would Gust even let them know he needed help?

In truth, they already knew. Gust had almost no knowledge of mana sense, but it allowed the Source Creation elders to be aware of everything that happened within the school. Some could even spread their awareness deep into the surrounding forest, though it was an unnecessary use of their mana.

Not a quarter mile away, Master Ephraim burst into Master Christos’s cultivation room. Deep potted plants lined the walls, each filled with entangling roots and only the barest greenery on top. An ironwood sword laid on the ground before the Master, and surrounding him were an old tome, a vial of dried flower petals, and a large jug of spirit wine.

“I know,” he intoned before Ephraim could even speak. “We could not wait forever. She’ll be back soon.”

Ephraim snarled. “But if the boy dies within the sword’s array-“

“We will deal with his killers quickly and quietly,” Christos retorted. “And who could blame us? They are fellow students, after all,” he smirked, “such ruthlessness should be saved for our enemies. Whatever happens, whoever claims the coin after the boys’ death, is down to fate.”

“How could you do this without consulting me? The sword could be lost forever, Christos! Who knows how long it would take an artifact of that strength to decay?”

“It will not come to that,” Christos replied. He waved one hand and the wooden cap popped off the vial of flower petals. They flew into the air and surrounded the Master in a storm of red and purple. “Don’t worry, brother. I will take the risk myself. You, and the rest of those fools, can stand back while I claim the greatest power of our generation. Just remember to keep me safe, lest I lash out at those who refused to help.”

Meanwhile, Gust was running out of both blood and options. He bundled up some robes around the knife and it may have helped with the bleeding, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Gust was starting to feel cold. He was already weak from the pain, but his body was almost ready to give in.

With the last of his energy, Gust crawled up the stairs and into Saith’s bedroom, where the legendary, gigantic sword leaned in the same place it had for decades.

The length of the room seemed to go on forever as Gust pulled himself along the ground and finally laid his bloody hand against the flat of the blade.

A light flashed and Gust felt a rush of motion. When he opened his eyes, he let out a gasp.

Paper crinkled as he rolled over onto his back, trying to take in the mass of pages that were plastered all over the walls of Saith’s massive library. Soon, he noticed they covered the entire floor as well.

The storm raging outside was loud and vicious. Thunder rolled and lightning cracked, but no rain pattered against the windows.

A door slammed and Gust tilted his head up to find a completely different man from the one he’d met previously. Saith’s dark hair fell loosely around his shoulders and several spots looks messed. His robes held slips of papers in each pocket and his eyes were bloodshot.

“What are you doing here? My lifespan shortens with every visit, boy.” Then he paused as he saw the blood covering Gust’s robes.

Gust barely had enough energy to respond. Even his eyelids were heavy. “Just save me. I’ll stop them. Just… help me.”

Saith’s body blurred as ran to Gust’s side and analyzed the wounds. Gust thought the increasingly unstable man was going to pull out the knife or even kill Gust himself.

The Swordsman’s expression was cold. He clenched his teeth and ran his eyes down Gust’s body, judging it from the inside out. An idea ran through his mind, and not for the first time. It was desperate, but every time the soul sliver wondered why his original self sent this untrained boy on such an important quest, a dark possibility occurred to him.

Perhaps this boy wasn’t meant to be anything but a vessel for a greater power. Weak as Gust was, though, Saith couldn’t take any chances. If the boy died in the possession process, Saith may never have another opportunity. His mind turned to alternatives.

The man became a blur as he rushed around the large room, opening drawers and books, inspecting vials and materials. From the way he muttered, Gust almost thought the man was speaking to himself. “I have more healing pills and elixirs than I can count. Problem is, they’re too strong. Your body will heal while your soul burns. Maybe a smaller dose? No, no, it’s too complex. Gods damn it!” He slammed his fists against the table. “If only I were whole, I could heal you myself. In this damned state I can’t manage so much as a qi blast in here.”

Suddenly, Saith perked up. His expression went blank for a moment, then he glanced at Gust with a wondering expression. He slowly walked over to a painting on the wall, which he waved a hand over. The frame tilted to the right, revealing the door to a vault. After a moment, Saith opened it and pulled out a black pill the size of his thumb. Within it was a mote of red the color of blood.

Saith’s voice was deadly serious. “Two thousand years ago, a strange new power appeared in the cultivation world. Suddenly, ancient masters were being killed by disciples several stages beneath them. There were new poisons, diseases, and techniques of all kinds that seemed to feed on qi itself, consuming and corrupting it, before using it as fuel.”

He turned the black pill over between his fingers. “I’ve been working on this Void Essence Pill for centuries, hoping to study the origin of such strange techniques. Every layer was formed from the soul of one such devilish cultivator. There’s no telling what side effects may come from using it so early, but I fear we have no other choice.” He dropped it into a small cauldron. “If I’d made it back before my death, I might have taken the pill myself. But, alas,” he shook his head and cut off the thought. “I will need to change its form. Make the qi less potent and administer it over time. Even then… what do you know of qi expulsion? Augustus!”

The man’s qi-empowered shout made Gust’s eyes shoot open. “N-nothing,” he muttered.

“Damn fools. Do they teach you nothing out there?” Saith said. “Listen closely. This elixir will rebuild your soul from the ground up with the strange aspect of numerous cultivation experts from my world. The corrupted qi it holds is extremely potent and incompatible with normal varieties. Once it infects your cultivation base, you have no choice but to purge it entirely. For you, that is a small task, but for one like me? I could not forsake countless years of work only to start over, no matter the benefits.”

A jolt of hope spread through Gust’s heart. He didn’t care what process the concoction would put him through as long as he survived.

Gust stared at the frenzied swordsman, but all he saw was his father. This world, this quest was the only chance he had to redeem himself in his father’s memory. As he grew cold, Gust refused to let go. He held his eyes open through sheer force of will.

Saith grunted and held his hands out toward the cauldron. Gust didn’t see anything happening, but he heard bubbling. “There is, of course, a moderate chance of death. Should you survive, however, there is no telling what such a potent, mysterious aspect will do to you. Ah, yes!” Saith picked up the cauldron and poured its contents into a jade cup, then knelt by Gust’s side. “Now, if it were me, I would absorb the corrupt spiritual energy so that I may reach a peak, no matter how chaotic, before being completely broken down and rebuilt. You don’t have that option. If you don’t expel the excess qi as soon as it repairs your body, it will destroy you.”

Gust let out a few sharp breaths. It was closest thing he could do to laughter at the moment. “Why did I think this was a good idea?” he wondered, but it was a little too late for regrets. When the ancient cultivator approached him with a molten, dark, liquid, Gust nodded his head.

Saith’s lips formed a tight line and he nodded back. Then, he leaned in slowly and poured a black elixir with a bloody aura into Gust’s mouth.