The Vice Captain continued training for another month.
There was still residue inside his body, compressed, impure buildup that, if refined properly, could push him into the second realm of Core Manifestation. He would not waste it.
One month earlier, he had broken through into the First Stage of Core Manifestation.
He remembered the moment clearly.
After the breakthrough, he had stood in the forest and thought to himself:
It would be a waste to burn this forest…
Then he corrected himself.
But that person is more useful than this forest.
And so he burned it.
He did not leave.
He remained where he stood, cultivating while the fire spread outward in controlled arcs. Flames devoured tree after tree, devoured bark, branches, roots.
But not all of them.
The stronger trees resisted.
Those he did not destroy immediately.
Instead, he absorbed them.
He extracted their vitality directly, refining their life force into himself as the forest burned around him.
Because there could only be one anchor.
Not multiple.
One.
The tree spirit had trusted no mortals. It had not entrusted its name to villagers or wandering travellers.
It had entrusted it to trees.
Trees were living things.
Trees had stood beside it for centuries.
They were its witnesses.
And somewhere among them...
One tree knew its name.
The anchor.
But he did not know which one.
So, he burned them all.
The Vice Captain sat in meditation when a distortion rippled through the air.
He opened his eyes.
"Who is there?"
A familiar shape formed before him.
The tree spirit.
Its body flickered. Its outline was unstable. Bark-like skin cracked and reformed repeatedly, as if reality could no longer hold it in place.
Fear was visible on its face.
Raw fear.
"How?" it demanded, voice trembling. "How are you still alive?"
The Vice Captain stared at it calmly.
"Is that your question?"
The spirit's form wavered violently.
"Why are you not killing me?" it asked. "I don't understand. Why are you using such methods? You burned and destroyed the forest. Why would you do that?"
The Vice Captain's voice remained level.
"People cannot shout their name to the world," he said. "But they cannot remain nameless either. Someone must know it."
His gaze sharpened.
"Do you think I am stupid?"
The spirit stiffened.
"I killed everything that knew your name."
A pause.
"Well. Everything I could."
His eyes did not blink.
"There was only one anchor. But how would I know which one it was?"
The spirit's body spasmed.
Its bark-like surface split along the arms and reformed. A sound escaped it, not a scream, but something tighter. Something strangled.
Pain.
Not physical pain.
Existential pain.
When the anchor was destroyed, it felt it.
A tearing sensation.
A severing.
Not just pain, a warning.
Tell someone your name.
You are alone.
You are exposed.
Its existence trembled.
"If you wanted to kill me," the spirit said, voice cracking, "you know how. It would be simple for you. Why use such methods? I have no power. No way to resist."
The Vice Captain tilted his head slightly.
"You have a mouth," he said. "You speak a great deal."
He leaned forward just slightly.
"So why are you not begging?"
The spirit froze.
It opened its mouth.
Nothing came out.
Its pride warred against its survival.
Its body flickered harder now. Parts of it faded into transparency before re-forming again.
The Vice Captain watched silently.
"You will die eventually if no one knows your name," he said calmly. "That pain you felt? That was not destruction. That was warning."
The spirit trembled.
"You were in a coma," the Vice Captain continued. "You were recovering. You needed time."
His voice lowered.
"I removed your anchor to wake you."
The forest around them was ash and smoke.
"You are irrational now," the Vice Captain said, his voice barely rising above a whisper. "Which makes this… ideal."
He stepped closer, unhurried.
"Even after I've told you, you cannot alter a single thing. Not a word. Not a breath. Your soul, your very existence, is straining against you, begging to reveal your name."
A faint, humorless smile touched his lips.
"Don't resist too hard. The struggle is the most honest part of you."
The spirit's breathing became uneven.
Its form distorted further.
"I can spare your life," the Vice Captain continued. "You are useful. Your ability is unique."
A pause.
"But I cannot trust you."
The spirit tried to stabilize itself.
It failed.
"I will spare you," the Vice Captain said, "if you tell me your name. I will treat you well if you cooperate with me."
The spirit recoiled.
Its entire body flickered violently.
"Otherwise," he finished calmly, "I will lock you away."
His eyes hardened.
"And if no one knows your name in two or three days…"
He did not raise his voice.
"Your life will be miserable."
The spirit felt it.
The isolation.
The erosion.
The slow thinning of existence.
It looked around at the charred remains of the forest.
The trees that had stood with it for centuries.
Gone.
The anchor...
Gone.
It understood now.
This was never about destruction.
It was persuasion.
Cold.
Deliberate.
Calculated.
The spirit's voice trembled.
And for the first time...
It hesitated.