Kael's body began to fail on the third night.
It wasn't dramatic.
There was no sudden collapse, no coughing up blood beneath a moonlit sky. Just a quiet, creeping heaviness that settled into his limbs like wet ash, making every movement feel slightly delayed—slightly wrong.
He noticed it immediately.
That, more than anything else, told him he was changing.
He sat in the forest clearing he had claimed as his own, back against a tree whose bark was rough enough to bite into skin. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth. Insects chirped rhythmically, indifferent to his struggle.
Kael closed his eyes.
Inside, the Eclipse Core rotated slowly, its black and white halves tracing one another with perfect, merciless symmetry. It felt… fuller than before. Not stronger, exactly, but denser—as if something had settled into place.
The ember in his lower abdomen flickered unsteadily.
Qi.
So little of it. So fragile.
And yet, it was killing him.
Kael exhaled through clenched teeth.
His muscles spasmed as a wave of weakness rolled through him. Sweat beaded on his brow, cold despite the exertion. His heartbeat stuttered, then raced.
This body is collapsing under the strain, he realized calmly.
It wasn't built for cultivation. Not yet. Malnutrition, damage, years of abuse—its foundation was cracked, uneven. Drawing Qi into it was like pouring molten metal into rotting wood.
He opened his eyes, gaze sharpening.
"Adapt," he murmured. "Or die."
There was no third option.
Kael shifted his posture, abandoning the crude stance he'd been copying from fragmented memories. Instead, he listened—to his body, to the Eclipse Core, to the subtle feedback between them.
He had been trying to circulate Qi.
That was the mistake.
Circulation assumed pathways existed.
They didn't.
So he stopped forcing movement.
Instead, he let the Qi pool.
The ember in his abdomen grew warmer, brighter. Pain flared immediately—pressure building in a space too small to contain it. Kael's vision blurred. His teeth ground together.
This was dangerous.
He knew it.
But danger was information.
Kael shifted his focus inward, brushing his awareness against the Eclipse Core—not demanding, not pleading.
Stabilize.
The response was instantaneous.
The core pulsed.
Black and white light spilled outward, not as energy, but as structure. The violent pressure inside his abdomen softened, reshaped, compressed into something tighter, more controlled.
The pain didn't vanish.
It changed.
From tearing agony to burning resistance.
Kael gasped, breath hitching as sweat poured down his face. His heart hammered like it was trying to escape his ribcage.
But the ember held.
No—it condensed.
Just slightly.
A breakthrough so minor it wouldn't even qualify as progress to a real cultivator.
To Kael, it was everything.
He laughed weakly, the sound breaking apart in his throat.
"So that's how you want it," he whispered. "Not movement. Compression."
The Eclipse Core remained silent.
Satisfied.
He didn't realize how long he'd been cultivating until the forest sounds shifted.
The insects quieted. The wind changed direction. The moon climbed higher.
Time had slipped away.
Kael opened his eyes slowly.
His body felt… strange.
Heavy, yes—but solid in a way it hadn't been before. His senses were sharper. He could hear the rustle of leaves farther away, smell the faint coppery tang of blood still lingering on his clothes.
He looked down at his hands.
They were still thin.
Still scarred.
But when he clenched them, there was resistance now—muscle responding with intent, not desperation.
Qi Condensation.
Barely.
Not even Stage One.
But real.
Kael leaned back against the tree, chest heaving.
Then the backlash hit.
It came without warning.
A spike of pain lanced through his meridians, white-hot and vicious. Kael cried out as his body convulsed, nerves screaming in protest. Blood burst from his nose and ears, splattering the dirt beneath him.
He collapsed to his side, vision fracturing into shards of light and shadow.
Too far, his mind supplied dimly. Still too far.
The Eclipse Core flared again—but this time, not gently.
A cold, crushing presence wrapped around his soul, suppressing the unstable Qi, forcing it back into dormancy. The ember dimmed, retreating, leaving behind scorched pathways and raw, exposed nerves.
Kael lay there, gasping, body trembling uncontrollably.
For a long moment, he thought he might actually die.
Not gloriously.
Not meaningfully.
Just… quietly. Alone in the dirt.
A memory surfaced unbidden.
White ceiling.
Beeping machines.
The lie of stability.
Kael laughed weakly through bloodstained lips.
"No," he rasped. "Not again."
He dug his fingers into the soil, grounding himself in sensation. Cold. Rough. Real.
Gradually, his breathing steadied.
The pain receded to a dull, manageable throb.
When he finally managed to sit up, the clearing looked unchanged—but he knew better.
He had crossed a line.
And the world had noticed.
Kael did not return to the village that night.
He stayed in the forest, curled against the base of the tree, conserving strength. His body demanded rest—true rest, not the half-sleep of hunger and fear he'd known before.
Before dawn, footsteps approached.
Kael's eyes snapped open.
His senses reached outward instinctively, guided by the Eclipse Core's subtle awareness. Two heartbeats. Uneven. Careful.
Not beasts.
People.
He rolled silently to his feet, ignoring the protest in his limbs, and slipped behind the tree just as figures emerged into the clearing.
Garron was one of them.
The other was a younger man—lean, sharp-eyed, carrying a crude spear.
"There," Garron whispered. "I saw him come this way."
Kael's gaze hardened.
So that was how it was.
Garron was afraid now.
Afraid enough to hunt.
The younger man hesitated. "You sure it's him? Elder said not to provoke—"
"He humiliated me," Garron snapped. "And he's hiding something. You felt it, didn't you? That pressure earlier."
The younger man swallowed. "Yeah. Like the air got heavy."
Kael's fingers tightened.
Cultivation backlash.
He had leaked something.
A rookie mistake.
Garron stepped forward, scanning the clearing. "Kael! Come out. We just want to talk."
Kael remained silent.
The Eclipse Core pulsed once—soft, warning.
He was weak.
Injured.
If they rushed him together…
Then don't let them rush, he decided.
He moved.
A stone flew from the darkness, striking Garron's temple with a dull crack. Garron stumbled, swearing.
Kael surged from behind the tree, slamming his shoulder into the younger man's chest. The spear went wide, scraping bark as Kael grabbed the shaft and twisted.
The younger man screamed as his wrist snapped.
Garron roared and charged.
Kael met him head-on.
Pain flared as Garron's fist connected with his ribs. Something cracked. Kael tasted blood.
He didn't retreat.
He stepped closer.
Their bodies collided, and Kael drove his forehead into Garron's nose.
Bone shattered.
Garron screamed, staggering back, blood pouring down his face.
Kael stood there, swaying, chest heaving.
"Leave," he said hoarsely. "Or die."
The younger man dragged Garron away, terror etched into his face.
They vanished into the trees.
Kael collapsed to one knee.
His body shook violently now, strength draining fast. The Eclipse Core stabilized him just enough to keep him conscious—but no more.
He leaned back against the tree, staring up at the sky as dawn began to bleed into the horizon.
This was the price.
Power exacted payment in advance.
Kael smiled faintly.
"Worth it," he whispered.
The ember in his abdomen flickered weakly.
But it did not go out.
And that was enough.