He stood before the golden wall, his breath uneven, his chest rising and falling like a machine stuck between gasps. The faint shimmer of the barrier glowed with serene warmth, almost holy in its stillness. His hand hovered in front of it, trembling slightly. Then, finally, he reached out and touched it.
A subtle glitter coursed through his fingertips—a vibration not of sound, but of resistance, of rejection. The wall was made of golden particles, tightly bound like a net of sanctity and discipline. He knew this energy. He knew the signature.
"Xin…" he muttered under his breath, voice lined with bitterness.
This was his doing.
Of course it was. That damned person and his defenses. Always so cautious.
He let his hand fall. For a moment, he stood still, feeling the pulse of the golden barrier. Behind it lay his one chance. The only path forward. But this—this radiant blockade—mocked him, held him in place, denied him his weapon.
He clenched his jaw. His body still ached from the internal war he had been fighting. The poison—his poison—was unstable. It clawed at his veins, twisted under his skin, looking for escape. He had tried to manipulate it earlier, tried to expel it through raw will, through his EMR—but it wasn't enough. All he could do was shift it inside his own body, keep it from killing him.
But now… now he needed it. Needed to let it out. To unleash it.
And this wall was in his way.
He stepped forward with deliberate defiance and pressed both palms against the surface. The golden particles buzzed, resisting the intrusion, pressing back. His lips curled into a snarl. The light stung. It wasn't just power—it was memory. It was Xin's voice, Xin's principles, Xin's faith. All of it woven into this barrier.
With a growl, he drew back his arm and struck.
Claws tore through the air, slashing at the wall. The sound was more sensation than noise—a sharp shiver that ran up his spine. The particles sparked where his claws made contact, rippling outward like a pond disrupted by stone. But the wall held.
He struck again.
And again.
Each time, his blows landed harder, faster, fueled by frustration and desperation. The golden wall trembled under the assault, glowing brighter with each impact, as if trying to hold its form by sheer will. Sweat rolled down his brow, and his breathing became more erratic.
"Break… damn you," he hissed through clenched teeth.
He could feel the poison stirring in his core now, sensing its opportunity. He was bleeding it into his limbs with every strike, letting it sharpen his claws, lace his fury with venom. The golden barrier began to falter, its shimmer flickering like a candle in the wind.
And then—it cracked.
A thin line of darkness split the center, widening with his next blow. The particles began to fall away, disassembling like dust shaken from old fabric. One final slash—and the wall shattered, golden fragments raining down like dying stars.
He stood there, chest heaving, as the pieces dissolved around him.
And then it came.
The dark particles—his own corrupted essence—began to spill forth, tendrils of shadow slithering through the air. They reached out like fingers, coiling around the fading remnants of light, consuming them. The golden glow was snuffed out, absorbed into the void, leaving only the pulse of something far more ancient… and far more dangerous.
He watched the transformation with a nervous grin, his body twitching as the darkness embraced him like an old friend.
"This is going to suck…"
His plan had always been dangerous. Reckless, even. But it was the only path forward.
He had to make the poisonous ether his own.
Not just wield it. Not borrow it. He had to tame it. Bind it. Let it become a part of him, even if it tried to tear him apart in the process.
But before that...before he could even dream of shaping it...he had to survive it.
And survival meant containing it within his body. Alone.
No buffers. No seals. No help.
The moment the golden wall had fallen and the radiant light had crumbled away, the corrupted ether surged forward with terrifying speed. It rushed past his feet like a flood of thick smoke, curling up his legs and twisting through his spine. A storm of ink and venom.
And it was hungry.
It found the last lingering wisps of golden ether floating in the air—Xin's work, remnants of light—and it devoured them like fire eating dry leaves.
He could only watch in horror as the darkness writhed, pulsing with malicious intent, threading through the air like veins being drawn in real time.
He clutched his chest.
Then came the pain.
Oh, the damned pain.
It hit like an avalanche—crushing, suffocating, drilling into his lungs and searing through every nerve. His knees buckled as if the very earth had turned hostile. He fell forward, gasping, and slammed a hand to the ground to keep from collapsing completely. The ether was crawling inside him now. No longer just brushing his skin. No longer whispering threats. It was clawing through his insides.
The poison was already in him. He had held it at bay before—but this was different.
This was worse than the initial exposure to the treacherous poison.
This was an invasion.
His veins felt like they were boiling. Black heat surged through his arms and up his neck. His heart pounded like a war drum, struggling to keep rhythm as if unsure whether to fight or surrender. Every time he took a breath, it came out ragged and sharp, tasting like metal and fire.
He screamed a horrifying screech.
Not out of weakness but out of rage.
He refused to fall. Not here. Not yet.
"You reek of weakness."
The memory struck him like a dagger. That voice. That shadowy figure. Sitting all nonchalantly in the astral realm, talking as if he was better than him.
"You reek of weakness."
I'm not weak… Damn it… I'm not weak!
He drove his claws into the the hard crystalline floor, pulling himself upright despite the inferno tearing through his body. His eyes burned, his vision swimming with black static. The darkness around him thickened, pressing in like walls of smoke. The corrupted ether danced around him like snakes, hissing, snapping at his control.
It didn't want to be owned but It wanted to consume.
But he kept pushing. Pulling it inward. Fighting it with every ounce of will he had.
The light particles—the last few fragments of light—hovered just ahead. Shimmering, fragile. Like dying stars suspended in a collapsing sky.
And still, the poisonous ether crept toward them.
It moved slower now, but no less deadly. It tasted the light. Craved it. And even as he fought to hold the toxin within himself, he felt his grip slipping. He could contain some...but not all. Not yet.
His efforts were not enough.
His body trembled uncontrollably. His fingernails cracked under the pressure. His eyes rolled for a moment before he snapped himself back into focus. He couldn't pass out. Not now. Not when he was this close.
He reached out—toward the remaining light.
But the Treacherous wave of darkness lunged.
In an instant, three of the golden particles vanished, ripped apart in a spiral of black tendrils. Only five remained. Then four.
He forced himself up to one knee, hand outstretched, sweat pouring down his face like rain. "Stop!" he barked at the poison as if it could hear him.
And of course it didn't.
The ether hissed louder now. Angry. Starving.
Three particles left.
The pain worsened. His chest convulsed. His jaw clenched so hard he felt something crack in his teeth.
Two.
He could barely see anymore. Everything was dark. Or maybe that was the poison finally taking his sight.
One.
Hold damn it!
He reached out, grasping, clawing the air with trembling fingers, trying to wrap himself around that last speck of light.
It floated there, hovering like hope. Or a dying ember.
The shadows circled it. As he let out one, last finally scream.