The Infinite Ascent
Chapter 2: The First Scar
The murmurs of disdain still lingered in the air, clinging to me like a noxious fog, even after their footsteps had faded into the evening shadows. I could still hear the words, sharp as daggers, replaying in my mind like a chant I couldn't silence.
"Cripple."
"Dead weight."
"Better off feeding the worms."
Cruel titles dissecting my worth. I sat alone in the dilapidated courtyard, the cracked pavement beneath me mirroring the fragments of my spirit.
Blood dripped steadily from my arms, pooling into the thirsty earth, the stains a grim record of my countless failed attempts. Every time I reached for cultivation, it ended the same: pain, humiliation, emptiness. It was as if the world itself rejected me, qi flowing all around yet slipping through me like sand through broken fingers.
Beyond these broken walls, I could hear Veyrith's heartbeat, lanterns flickering in the inner rings where nobles' children trained under polished roofs, refining their qi with treasured manuals and personal instructors. Sect remnants bartered ancient teachings to the highest bidder, shaping tomorrow's Pathwalkers. But here, in the slums, we bled ourselves dry chasing half-whispered rumors and stolen scraps. And I was worse than even them. I was nothing.
Or so they said.
But tonight was different.
The voice thrummed through me again, cold and inevitable, like an ancient bell tolling sacrifice.
[To rise, you must suffer.]
My eyelids fluttered shut. My body trembled, not just with pain but with a strange resolve. I whispered to the darkness, "If suffering is all that I have left… then let me drown in it."
I drew in the qi again.
It was agony. Every breath felt like shards of glass clawing down my throat. My chest tightened until my vision swam, blood spilling from my mouth in a crimson torrent. My heart screamed at me to stop before I killed myself.
But something shifted.
The qi didn't scatter this time. It clung to me, thick, heavy, suffocating, like tar trying to drown me.
It tore into my veins. My body convulsed under its weight. Bones felt as though they were being split apart and reforged in fire. I collapsed, writhing against the dirt, a helpless wreck.
And then… I laughed.
For the first time, the energy wasn't rejecting me. It was merging. No, it was me. I was devouring it.
The world froze as the system's voice cut into my consciousness:
[Path Recognition: Complete.]
[You walk the Devouring Path.]
[Warning: All growth will come with unbearable suffering.]
Paths. I'd heard the whispers. Paths were destiny, constellations mortals bled to align with. Some promised enlightenment, others annihilation. The noble-born hoarded them like treasures. Sect disciples inherited fragments of them through generations of sacrifice.
But one had chosen me. A nameless orphan.
My vision blurred. My body shuddered on the brink of collapse. And yet, deep in the pit of my stomach, a spark glowed, fragile, weak, but alive.
I forced myself up, gasping raggedly. My hands shook as I clenched them into fists. Veins as black as ink pulsed faintly beneath my skin, radiating a strange, unnatural warmth.
For the first time in my life, I had cultivated something.
The system's voice returned, colder than before, pressing the weight of truth into my bones:
[Suffer, and ascend.]
Above me, the sky cracked. A single fracture spread across the stars, glittering like a broken jewel. Blood dried on my lips as I smiled, pain still lancing through every nerve.
If suffering was the toll for strength, then I would carve my path upward with scars, each one proof of who I was becoming.
To be continued...