Chapter 3: The Awakening of Power
The night was still, save for the soft crackle of dying embers from the beast's smoldering carcass. Bhoumik, exhausted from the battle, stood over the massive body, his chest heaving with each labored breath. His clothes, tattered and soaked in blood, clung to his body, and fresh wounds burned across his skin, but he didn't flinch. Pain had become nothing more than a dull hum in the back of his mind, overshadowed by the bitter satisfaction of victory.
For the first time in his life, he had fought and killed a magical beast—something beyond the ordinary wild animals he had trained against. He had seen the fire in its eyes, felt the power it possessed, and it had nearly cost him his life. But he had won. And the prize lay just beneath the beast's thick hide.
Bhoumik knelt down, his fingers still slick with blood as he plunged his hand into the gaping wound he had carved in the beast's chest. His hand found its target—a small, pulsing core, warm to the touch, radiating faint traces of spiritual energy. It was low-level, nowhere near the strength of higher realm cores, but for someone like Bhoumik, it was more than enough.
With a slow pull, he extracted the beast core from its body, holding it up to the faint moonlight. The sphere glowed faintly, swirling with barely contained energy. His sharp eyes analyzed it for a moment, his expression as cold as ever.
"Low spiritual energy," he muttered to himself, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. For someone at his cultivation level, it was a treasure.
Bhoumik pocketed the core, his hand brushing against the jade pendant at his waist for a brief moment. The lotus pendant, ever cold and silent, seemed to hum slightly beneath his touch, as though sensing the energy he had just acquired.
His eyes drifted to the boy's lifeless body, crumpled in a heap not far from the beast. The boy's eyes stared blankly, his mouth slightly ajar, frozen in the terror of his final moments. Bhoumik stared down at the body without emotion. The boy had been dead long before he arrived. His efforts had been in vain.
Without a word, Bhoumik walked over to the body, kneeling beside it. His hands, despite their wounds and exhaustion, gripped the cold, stiff form and hoisted it over his shoulder with little effort. The boy's limp arms dangled down as Bhoumik began his walk back toward the village.
---
By the time Bhoumik returned to his house, the night had given way to dawn, the faintest rays of sunlight beginning to break through the dark clouds that still hung in the sky. The rain had stopped, but the air was damp and heavy.
And there, sitting on the ground just outside his door, was the girl.
She was huddled against the wall, her knees pulled to her chest, her body shivering from the cold and the fear. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face streaked with tears that hadn't stopped since Bhoumik had left. She had waited for him. All night.
As Bhoumik approached, the dead boy still slung over his shoulder, the girl's head snapped up. Her eyes widened when she saw her brother's lifeless form, and a soft sob escaped her lips.
Bhoumik didn't stop. He walked directly to the girl, his expression as cold and emotionless as ever, and dropped the body in front of her.
"He was already dead when I reached him," Bhoumik said flatly. There was no sympathy in his voice, no kindness in his gaze. The girl stared at him, her lower lip trembling, her eyes locked on her brother's lifeless face.
Bhoumik's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Take his body and leave."
He turned his back on her before she could even respond, walking into his house without a second glance. Her cries followed him inside, a sound of raw anguish and despair that echoed through the quiet village. But to Bhoumik, it was nothing more than noise.
The girl collapsed over her brother's body, her sobs growing louder as she clung to him, as though her tears could somehow bring him back. Bhoumik didn't care. Life was cruel. He knew that better than anyone.
Inside the house, Bhoumik staggered toward his small, worn bed. His body, already trembling from the blood loss and exhaustion, barely made it to the edge of the bed before his legs gave out. He collapsed onto the rough blanket, his vision swimming as the last of his strength left him.
Darkness closed in around him, and with a final, ragged breath, Bhoumik fell into unconsciousness.
---
Outside, the girl continued to cry, her heart breaking over the brother she had lost. The villagers who passed by on the way to the mountains spotted her, their faces grim as they took in the sight of the dead boy and the weeping girl in front of Bhoumik's house.
One of the older villagers, a man with deep lines etched into his face from years of hard labor, approached cautiously. His eyes flickered to the door of Bhoumik's house, fear evident in his gaze. No one dared to go near the boy's home if they didn't have to. The curse that followed him was enough to keep everyone at a distance.
But the sight of the dead boy stirred something in the old man, a faint glimmer of pity for the girl left alone in her grief. He stepped forward, crouching beside her.
"We'll take him away, child," he said softly, though his voice trembled with unease. He glanced once more at the house. "It's best not to linger here."
The girl said nothing, her sobs muffled as she held onto her brother. But the old man motioned for the others, and soon, they lifted the boy's body from the ground, carrying it away. One of the women gently guided the girl, helping her to her feet and leading her away from Bhoumik's house.
They didn't speak of him, didn't mention his name. They wouldn't dare.
---
Inside, Bhoumik's body lay still, but the blood from his wounds continued to seep out, staining the already worn fabric of his bed. It dripped slowly, each drop falling onto the jade lotus pendant at his waist.
The pendant, normally cool and silent, began to glow faintly, its surface slick with Bhoumik's blood. The glow intensified, pulsing as though it were alive, reacting to the blood that covered it.
Suddenly, particles of spiritual energy began to flow from the pendant, swirling around Bhoumik's unconscious form. The particles moved like a living thing, weaving through the air before settling over his wounds. Slowly, the energy began to heal him, knitting together the torn flesh, closing the gashes that had nearly killed him.
His body, once pale and covered in blood, began to regain its color. The spiritual energy soaked into him, healing him from within, removing all traces of the battle as though it had never happened.
As the last of his wounds disappeared, the beast core that Bhoumik had taken earlier floated from his pocket, drawn toward the glowing pendant. It hovered in the air for a moment before the jade lotus began to pulse again, this time drawing the spiritual energy from the core.
The energy flowed into Bhoumik's body, the core shrinking as its power was absorbed. Bhoumik's unconscious form twitched slightly as the energy surged through him, his body greedily taking in every last drop.
And then, with a sharp burst of light, the core shattered.
Bhoumik's body trembled as the energy from the core pushed him past the eighth and ninth levels of the Martial Mortal Realm. His breathing quickened as the power within him surged, breaking through the final barrier that had held him back.
With a final, resounding boom, the breakthrough was complete.
Bhoumik had ascended to the Master Realm.
His body lay still once more, the jade pendant slowly dimming as the last of the energy settled into him. The room fell silent, the only sound the soft, rhythmic rise and fall of his breath.
Bhoumik remained unconscious, but the power that now flowed through him was undeniable. He had broken through at the age of twelve—a feat unheard of in the village, or even beyond.
The world had no idea what was coming.