The swiftness of my progress was almost surreal. My initial plan had been to utilize the month before H.A.R.M.'s arrival to break through to the First Realm, a feat that would allow me to address the lingering troubles and cleanse my tarnished reputation.
Yet, in a mere twelve days, I had not only ascended to the peak of the First Realm but had also decimated the majority of the troublesome vampires. The transformation was exhilarating, a testament to my newfound power and determination.
My reputation, once a stain on my conscience, had undergone a remarkable metamorphosis. Now, even those with trivial concerns, like a misplaced wallet, dared to knock on my door, seeking my aid. The shift was both humbling and empowering, a stark reminder of the influence I now wielded.
Joining H.A.R.M., once a distant dream, now seemed an inevitability. The path ahead was clear, and I was ready to embrace it.
… …
I glanced at the panel, the stark numbers a sobering reminder of my mortality.
[Remaining Lifespan: Forty-six years]
If I were fortunate enough to die of old age, I would reach the ripe age of seventy-two. Considering my past excesses - the countless nights fueled by cheap liquor and cigarettes, the reckless disregard for my own well-being - reaching such an age would be a tribute to my ancestors' sturdy genes.
The thought brought a wry smile to my lips. I wasn't ungrateful for the life I had been given.
But the harsh reality was that a natural death was a luxury in the apocalyptic world. In the span of a few short days, I had danced with death more times than I cared to count. I hadn't even ventured beyond the county's borders, my farthest expedition a harrowing trek into the treacherous Berkshire mountains.
Without the panel's enigmatic power, I would be nothing more than a bleached skeleton, picked clean by the ravenous beasts that roamed the wilderness.
The temptation to abandon this dangerous path had crossed my mind. I could shed my uniform, seek refuge as a retainer for a wealthy lord, and disappear into a life of comfortable obscurity. With a hefty purse, I could even secure a plump and beautiful wife, lock the door to the outside world, and dedicate myself to the simple pleasures of life.
But the thought of Kevin Stone, the renowned security specialist, now a lifeless husk, haunted me. Could I truly rest easy, knowing that even the most skilled warriors could fall prey to the darkness that lurked beyond the city walls?
My realm might surpass Kevin Stone's, but in the grand scheme of things, I was but a speck of dust compared to the ancient and powerful vampires that ruled the night. The path to true safety was paved with strength, not complacency.
… …
I gazed at the panel, my resolve hardening with each passing second. The looming opportunity to leave Pinewood County amplified my yearning for reaping from the lifespan.
[Remaining Absorbed Lifespan: 652 years]
The Blood Evil Sword Technique was tantalizingly close to advancement, and tonight, I would shatter that barrier.
As the lifespan surged into the technique, lines of text materialized before my eyes.
[In the first year, following your previous approach, you persisted in refining the Blood Evil clinging to the blade into pure essence.]
[In the seventh year, witnessing the red mist on the Black Silver gradually solidify, you felt a surge of confidence. The adage, "Master one principle, and you master them all," seemed to ring true.]
[In the 12th year, impatience led to disaster. The Blood Essence shattered, and your meridians, the channels connecting the 12 chambers, were severely damaged. The realization hit hard: "Master one principle, and you master them all" was a fallacy. Even the slightest deviation can lead to catastrophic consequences. No two leaves are truly alike in this world.]
A wave of agonizing pain washed over me, leaving me momentarily breathless. The intensity of the sensation was a stark reminder of my recklessness. Despite years of training and deduction, I had once again treated my body as a mere tool, pushing it to the brink without a second thought.
Frustration mingled with self-reproach. If wisdom eluded me, couldn't I at least exercise a modicum of patience?
With a newfound resolve, I increased the rate at which I infused my lifespan, my determination fueled by a burning desire to transcend my limitations.
The panel flickered, the text a reflection of my arduous journey:
[In the 33rd year, you mended the hidden wounds that plagued your body, calmed the storm within your mind, and coaxed the Blood Evil and True Essence into a harmonious coexistence.]
[In the 59th year, your relentless pursuit bore fruit. Your essence underwent a profound mutation, and a primal, violent killing intent surged within you.]
[Lost: Wave Realm - Harmonious Quartet (Grandmaster)]
[Gained: Wave Realm - Bloody Quintet (Grandmaster)]
[In the 97th year, you finally subdued the tempestuous killing intent that threatened to consume you. The newfound power coursing through your veins was intoxicating, a testament to the correctness of your initial gamble.]
[In the 120th year, your mastery over this path deepened. You transcended the demonic influence, harnessing the pure energy of violent intent. With a mere thought, an invisible shroud of blood-red energy enveloped your blade.]
[Gained: Wave Realm - Nightshade Assassin(Grandmaster)]
[Remaining Absorbed Lifespan: 432 years]
If it weren't for the last few lines of text on the panel, I would have questioned the reality of my own deductions. The Harmonious Quartet, a technique I had just mastered, had undergone a chilling transformation. Its once righteous and domineering nature was now infused with a predatory ferocity, a consequence of the corrupting influence of the Blood Evil.
Conversely, the Blood Evil Sword Technique, initially brimming with demonic energy, had been refined into an embodiment of pure, lethal efficiency. The demonic taint had been purged, leaving only a chilling elegance in its wake.
Nightshade Assassin. The name alone sent a shiver down my spine.
I reached for the Black Silver, its dark luster beckoning. The blade slid from its sheath with a whisper, its presence a tangible threat in the dimly lit room.
As the celestial essence within my chambers surged, the blade seemed to darken, merging with the shadows, its edges blurring into nothingness. A sense of unease prickled my skin.
Driven by a morbid curiosity, I touched the blade with my index finger. It sliced through my flesh effortlessly, as if passing through a phantom. Instead of welling up and flowing, the blood was drawn into the blade, leaving a faint, crimson trail that vanished almost instantly.
I stared at my fingertip, a bead of blood forming at the wound. The sensation of pain was delayed, a dull ache that spread through my hand. The realization was chilling. If I hadn't been watching, I wouldn't have even noticed the injury.
The Black Silver, a weapon of unparalleled lethality, seemed to hum with a dark power.
I sheathed the blade, a mixture of awe and trepidation swirling within me. The existence of such a sinister technique was both exhilarating and terrifying. It was a weapon that defied conventional defenses, a silent predator lurking in the shadows.
The thought of facing such a weapon sent a shiver down my spine. In a direct confrontation, I could rely on my superior strength and the devastating power of the Bloody Quintet to overwhelm my opponent.
But what if the attacker chose a path of stealth and deception? A friendly smile, a casual touch, and then the sudden, agonizing pierce of the blade...
The image was too vivid, too real. I shook my head, banishing the thought, and focused my attention on the Body of Golden Sun, pouring my lifespan into its depths, seeking a defense against this newfound threat.
The Kongo Shintai method, I had to concede, was a path of painstaking gradualism. But its slow, deliberate pace resonated with my newfound sense of caution.
The Body of Golden Sun might have reached its zenith, but the potential of the physical form was boundless. Even the slightest incremental improvement was worth pursuing.
The panel's updates echoed the steady rhythm of my training:
[In the first year, under the continuous refinement of the essence within the chambers, your body grew incrementally stronger.]
[In the second year...]
The cycle continued, each year a monument to my unwavering dedication.
As the first rays of dawn pierced the darkness, I paused, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling over me. Three hundred years of absorbed lifespan remained, a reservoir of potential waiting to be tapped. It was a comforting thought, a shield against the uncertainties that lay ahead.
… …
I rose, stretching my limbs, testing the newfound strength coursing through my body. The transformation was subtle, but undeniable. My muscles felt denser, more powerful. I estimated a twenty percent increase in strength, a manifestation of the effectiveness of the Kongo Shintai method.
After changing into a fresh uniform, I made my way to the familiar eatery near my house. "Two pieces of French toast, please," I ordered, my voice a low rumble.
The vendor, a jovial man with a perpetual smile, paused, his brow furrowing in concern. "Sergeant Kane, you usually order two portions. Not feeling hungry today?"
"Not particularly," I replied, placing the money on the counter. My smile felt brittle, a poor imitation of its usual warmth. Everything felt a little muted, a little less vibrant.
Misunderstanding my melancholy, the vendor glanced around furtively before leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We're not deaf, you know. Last night, they arrested a whole bunch of high-ranking officials. You're just a sergeant, so why worry?"
I took the French toast, my gaze sweeping across the bustling street. H.A.R.M. was moving swiftly, their actions a clear signal of their intent to seize control of Pinewood County.
A sense of anticipation mingled with determination. H.A.R.M.'s action meant they had finished their investigation. Their recruitment drive must also be underway. My future, my very survival, rested precariously on the unpredictable tides of fortune today.