The rain had not stopped. It fell in relentless sheets, washing the filth from the cobbled streets, though it could never cleanse the stench of poverty that clung to the alleyways. Thunder rumbled overhead, echoing the hunger that gnawed at Lucian Voss's stomach. But hunger was nothing new. Hunger was familiar.
What was unfamiliar was the scroll now resting in his hands.
Its surface was rough, the texture of aged parchment worn thin over centuries. Strange symbols sprawled across it in intricate patterns, pulsing faintly with a glow that defied the darkness of the alley. Each stroke of ink seemed alive, shifting ever so slightly when he wasn't looking directly at it.
The old man, the one who had placed this mysterious object in his grasp, had already disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind no trace except a few lingering words.
"This is the key to a path beyond this wretched existence."
Lucian had lived too long on the streets to believe in kindness without motive. He had seen it before—how the weak fell prey to the illusion of generosity, only to be devoured by the very hands that fed them. And yet, this did not feel like a trick. The old man's eyes had held no deceit, only something far more dangerous.
Expectation.
Lucian's fingers tightened around the parchment. He would not waste this chance. If this scroll held even the slightest power, he would claim it for himself. He had nothing to lose.
With a final glance at his surroundings, he retreated deeper into the alley, finding shelter beneath a half-collapsed wooden awning. The rain still reached him in scattered droplets, but it was enough cover for now.
Carefully, he unrolled the scroll.
The Path of Ash and Shadow
As soon as the parchment was fully unfurled, a sudden wave of heat surged through his fingertips. Lucian gritted his teeth, refusing to flinch. The ink on the scroll shimmered, the symbols twisting and rearranging themselves until they formed words he could understand.
> The heavens have cast you aside. The earth refuses to shelter you. But the abyss welcomes all who dare to grasp its power.
This is the Path of Ash and Shadow. The foundation of silent conquest. The beginning of a road without mercy.
Once you walk this path, there is no turning back.
A cultivation technique.
Lucian's breath caught in his throat.
He had heard of such things—whispers of men who could break the limits of mortality, who could bend the world to their will, who could transcend the cycle of life and death itself. But those were legends spoken of in the wealthier districts, myths meant for nobles and lords.
Not for a gutter rat like him.
And yet… the scroll had found its way to him.
His hands trembled, not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
Desire.
He devoured the words on the scroll, reading every line, memorizing every stroke. The technique was unlike anything he had imagined. It did not rely on the gathering of spiritual energy from nature, nor did it require the blessings of a sect or master. Instead, it thrived on something else entirely.
Struggle.
The Path of Ash and Shadow demanded more than simple meditation. It required pain, endurance, and blood. The foundation of this technique was built upon suffering, feeding off the body's limits and shattering them one by one.
The first step: Tempering the Vessel.
Lucian exhaled, steadying himself. He would not hesitate. If this was the price for power, he would pay it without regret.
The method was brutal but straightforward. He had to push his body beyond its limits, breaking himself down so he could be rebuilt stronger. Hunger, exhaustion, and pain—these were his training tools.
He clenched his fists.
He had already survived years of suffering. Now, he would make it his strength.
The First Trial: Endurance
Lucian did not sleep that night. Instead, he forced his body through the harshest tests he could endure.
He pushed himself to the edge of exhaustion, running through the empty streets until his legs burned, until his lungs felt like they would collapse. When he could no longer stand, he dropped to the ground and forced himself through endless repetitions of push-ups and sit-ups, ignoring the screaming protests of his muscles.
Each movement was agony.
And yet, he continued.
The scroll had warned him—the Path of Ash and Shadow was built on struggle. If he hesitated, if he faltered, he would never step beyond the filth of this alleyway.
So he endured.
The night passed in a blur of pain, and when dawn finally broke over the horizon, Lucian was left lying in the mud, his body aching, his vision blurred. But something had changed.
It was faint, almost imperceptible, but deep within his chest, he felt it—a spark of warmth, a whisper of strength where there had once been nothing.
He had taken the first step.
And he would never stop.