“Fine, I’ll train you,” Emmet finally said. “As your Master, it’s my duty to make you stronger. I also want to learn how you’re using your abilities. I’ve already linked us using the Rend energy flowing in your core. First, hand over whatever dark crystal you have.”

  Cliff willingly handed over four dark crystals. “Collected from the cultists I fought and their artifacts. They’re easy to snatch.”

  “Great. From small artifacts, then, not the altar version?” Emmet asked. The crystals in his palm seemed insignificant compared to the monstrous Altar Demon Crystal he’d encountered. “I see. This minor dark crystal differs greatly from that one. Well, I’ll start now. Just observe.”

  Emmet began the conversion and refinement process. He knelt beside a smooth, dark stone—perhaps a remnant of a meteor strike—and placed the crystals upon it. A low, internal hum, like the sound of distant, massive gears turning, emanated from Emmet’s chest. The four crystals floated from his hand, slowly absorbing into his body, separating pure energy from decay and dark dust. All of it was refined into a finer form, which Emmet called Rend.

  “This Rend,” Emmet explained, his voice low, “is the refined form of the demonic energy my forge created. It’s what repaired your core and now flows through you. Now that you understand that, try breathing and meditating. Feel the Rend flowing in you.”

  Cliff watched, mesmerized, then closed his eyes, instantly falling into meditation. I can see it. The core feels whole again. My breathing is proper...

  Emmet observed him. He immediately knows where his core is and seems to understand the flow, Emmet thought, a rare spark of impressed recognition crossing his face.

  He narrowed his eyes as he studied the flow. The Rend energy is mostly concentrating in his lungs. That must be his peculiarity. Emmet recalled his modifications. I did link it directly to his lungs, but he doesn't know that yet. “Well, this guy deserved to be my disciple,” Emmet muttered, a distinct note of pride.

  Emmet ended the refining process and absorbed all the Rend he had created.

  Emmet clapped his hands together, dusting them off. “That’s enough for now. You’ve just stabilized your core and gone through a significant energy shift. You need to recover your physical strength.” He gestured to a pack on the ground. “There's food in that bag—eat. You’ll need the calories to keep that Rend anchored properly.”

  Cliff looked surprised but gratefully moved toward the food. “You met Jasper?” he asked, his eyes widening in shock. “You’ve met the others, too?”

  “Wait, you know Jasper?” Emmet replied, his surprise clear.

  Cliff’s expression softened momentarily. “He’s family. Since you ‘fixed’ him, did you also take his leash? Or am I the only one who gets the ‘evil Master’ treatment?”

  Emmet gave a dry chuckle. “No, no, I didn’t. Just you. You're special—you actually attacked me. But yes, I fixed Jasper's core and was planning to return and help the rest of your little family.” Emmet paused, looking away for a moment. “Jasper and Lenka saved my life once, so I owed them a favor. Fixing Jasper’s core was me settling that debt, and I intended to fix the others too.”

  Cliff felt a wave of bad luck wash over him for being dominated, yet a profound gratitude that Emmet had helped his friends. Tears welled in his eyes. For years, they had been trying to find a cure…

  “I’m sure they hated me for leaving them,” Cliff admitted, his voice thick with emotion, taking a bite of the offered food. “I wanted to come back, but this… my peculiarity—I couldn't control it properly.”

  “I spent years traveling the continent of Elarith, trying to find as many demon crystals as I could. My peculiarity attracts too much attention—I tried to stay away from people, but I was caught many times, both by cultists and Luminaries, though I always managed to escape. I did try to kill any cultists I thought were weak enough to be an easy target.”

  Emmet raised an eyebrow. “You thought I was weak?”

  “Well, obviously you weren’t weak,” Cliff sighed, shaking his head. “Call it my biggest mistake.” He swallowed his food and continued his story. “It’s been years and years I travelled Elarith. I even worked for a small kingdom that found a use for my ability; I acted as a scout. They treated me well, and even though I couldn’t fully control my peculiarity, my strong air magic was good enough to fight for them. Sadly, the Red Empire destroyed that very kingdom I served.”

  Cliff’s face tightened with old bitterness. “I tracked that empire and saw that it's the very same power backing the demonic cult. You wouldn't believe the horror I saw from that empire. I stayed away from there as far as I could.”

  “Red Empire?” Emmet asked, intrigued by the mention of a large political power.

  “That’s just a fa?ade,” Cliff explained. “They slowly consume neighboring kingdoms and expand their influence. I tried to report them to the Luminaries, but I was branded as a spy and part of the demon cult. So I tried to stay away from them as much as I can, too. I’ve encountered them many times. My whole life now is on the run. It's not just the Cultists, or the Red Empire's soldiers, or the judgmental Luminaries chasing me—and now the Inquisitors are after me too. I live a life trying to run away, even from my friends.”

  “And now you plan on going back to them, to also bring harm?” Emmet countered, a seriousness entering his tone. “The tracking device, the cuff bracelet—they wanted you to guide them to the others like us, the Unwoven, and to Jasper and the rest. We cannot go there, not yet. We can’t put them in danger.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Cliff looked around nervously. “They are already trailing us. It won't be long until they catch up. Do you plan to fight them?”

  Emmet nodded slowly, a predatory glint in his eye. “Maybe. Since we can’t run away from them.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Cliff demanded. “The Inquisitors are dangerous. I know you are strong, but they are on a different league. Their powers are incomparable; they have strange artifacts and possess powerful divinity.”

  “No, we’re not going to fight them head-on,” Emmet said, crossing his arms. “Well, I want to, but I’m not curious enough to try yet. I want to become strong enough to one day fight the strongest—even the gods and ... to save someone I care about.”

  “So you have your reasons,” Cliff conceded, taking another quick bite, “but don’t be a fool.”

  “What do you think of your Master?” Emmet asked, a challenging glint in his eye. “And try not to forget that title, disciple. Besides, I have a plan, and you’re going to help me with it. You're stuck with me. We are going to find a cultist group and lure the Inquisitors to them. They will fight for us. I want to observe the Inquisitors and see them in action.” He paused, his expression hardening. “The Inquisitors are not really my enemies. My true enemy is the Cult. Now you speak of this Red Empire… so it just gotten bigger, huh. I guess it can't be helped. Tell me more about this Red Empire, Cliff. Everything you know about the Cult. Everything.”

  Cliff chewed slowly, thinking. “Well, I know a thing or two, but maybe not significant. I do know some of the locations of the cultists, and the Red Empire’s allies or puppets.”

  Emmet’s eyes lit up with satisfaction. “Nice. Okay, put them all into writing. I'll review them later.”

  Emmet moved close to Cliff, his face inches from his disciple's, a grim finality in his tone. “When you’re done writing those, start with your training. Focus on breathing exercises. Treat the Rend as the air flowing inside you, since you're an elemental divinant too. Focus on the Rend, your lungs, and the air—those three things.”

  Emmet then pointed specifically: “Guide it to your stomach, your head, and distribute it to your whole body. Those are your new vital points. And never—ever—use unrefined demon crystal energy again. It will only break you.”

  Suddenly, a flash of red-black energy—visible only to Cliff—lanced from the Rend link in his core. The pain was instantaneous, searing and deep, like molten lead injected straight into his heart and lungs. Cliff’s body seized up, his eyes squeezing shut as he let out a choked growl of pure physical agony, the controlled spike of energy a cruel, unmistakable reminder of Emmet’s dominance. It was a pain far worse than any injury he had sustained in battle, because it came from within, delivered by his new Master.

  Emmet drew back slightly, his expression cold. “Do those things, disciple, or you’ll get it again. That’s your teacher’s warning.”

  Cliff did not hesitate. The memory of the shock was fresh and burning, overriding every other instinct. He scrambled for the parchment and the map Emmet had left him, instantly writing down every location and detail of the cultists and the Red Empire’s operations he could remember. He was meticulous, marking weak points and supply lines, using the strategic mind honed during his scouting days. His penmanship was precise and his mapping detailed—skills he had acquired during his former servitude to the kingdom that had accepted him, a memory that still brought a pang of sadness over its demise.

  I have no choice now. I can’t disobey my new Master, he thought, his hand trembling slightly as he finished the last map coordinate. I don’t know more about Emmet, but I have to play safe and do everything he tells me. I cannot afford another lesson.

  Despite the harshness, Cliff couldn't deny the profound change within him. He felt a full, subtle control of his abilities: his flight, his breathing, and his air magic. Somehow, this isn't a bad bargain. I need to get on Emmet’s good side and learn more from him. For now, I have to embrace this discipleship.

  After finishing the detailed intelligence report, Cliff sat cross-legged on the cool, damp earth and instantly slipped into meditation. Okay, time to practice that breathing technique thing. I thought only the warriors practiced this. He wasted no time. Well, if it works for me, it works.

  He focused on his breath, remembering Emmet's words: Let the air be the guide. Treat it as the Rend. He could clearly feel the Rend, the refined dark energy, heavily concentrated in his lungs, trying to evolve their very structure. It felt less like energy and more like a fluid, potent gas mixing with the fresh night air he inhaled. The flow was smooth and cool, unlike the wild, burning sensation of raw demonic crystals. As he guided the Rend from his lungs, distributing it to his vital points—stomach, head—and then throughout his entire body, he felt his previously frail physique growing stronger, slowly but surely. The air was becoming one with him. He finally understood the mechanism of his flight—it wasn't luck, but the air inside his body lifting him. Now, with guidance and control, he could easily manage it.

  Meanwhile, far away, Emmet, positioned discreetly among the shadows of a nearby thicket, felt the remarkable change through their Rend connection. He let out a quiet, satisfied sigh that quickly turned into surprised amusement.

  Unbelievable. He's doing it perfectly on the first try, Emmet mused. I can see how perfectly he controls the air throughout his body; it’s like he's regulating the internal pressure to circulate the Rend energy.

  Emmet grinned, his dark mood instantly lifting. "My forge seems to be adopting and evolving a new refining method right now, thanks to him! It's condensing and refining the Rend into a form that's easily absorbed by his elemental body. Treating the Rend like air was a good idea, but Cliff is a genius. I didn't even have to teach him the detailed movements or specific flow patterns for the breathing technique—he just instantly grasped the concept."**

  He felt a powerful surge of energy, a clear, reciprocal knowledge transfer through the connection. "The more he distributes the Rend throughout his body, the stronger he becomes, and more importantly, the more I improve my understanding of how this refined energy works within a living host. This means my own forge and power grow as his control sharpens. This is a two-way cheat system that I first thought wouldn't work with just anyone. I'm truly lucky to have made a prodigy like him my disciple." Cliff's rapid mastery made Emmet's own increase in power feel effortless.

  A figure emerged from the deep forest shadows, near the spot where Cliff had been held. The only visible metallic gleam was the massive, razor-sharp chakram weapon secured to his back. Ignoring the scent of blood, the man knelt and picked up the shattered metallic pieces of the cuff bracelet Emmet had destroyed.

  He crushed the remnants of the tracking device in his gloved hand. “Ahh, he figured it out?” he muttered, his voice a low, cold rasp. “There’s no way he realized this was a tracking device on his own. Did he receive some external help? Interesting. Someone is helping him now. Did he meet up with the others like him?”

  A predatory smile stretched across his face, visible for a brief, chilling moment before he vanished back into the gloom. “Hahaha, it seems this hunt will be more interesting. You can hide, but you can’t outrun me. I will find you soon, Air Demon.”

  A second man, equally mysterious, stepped out from the trees.

  “The cultists in the area are no more to be found,” the newcomer stated, his voice tight. “I've received reports that all of their bases are abandoned. We caught some, but they all committed suicide before we could get any information.”

  “Well, I guess we have no choice but to follow the only lead we have,” the first man replied, his voice still a cold rasp. “Well, if they think they can escape, they are gravely mistaken.”