"Hey Zayros, let me ask you something," Shen said casually, leaning against the wooden partition of the firing range, his chest heaving from the grueling martial arts session.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and pointed to the small leather pouch on the mercenary's belt. "Those healing potions from the Earth Mother Church. Since you keep pouring them down my throat, would you mind sparing a few for me to keep on hand? Just in case I need them outside of our training."
Zayros paused, wiping a grease-stained rag across his thick neck. He looked at Shen, then down at his pouch, and let out a booming laugh. "What, are you scared of getting hurt or something, kid?"
"Well, fine. I will give you four. Consider them a gift for surviving five rounds without crying and whining this time." The massive mercenary casually tossed the small vials through the air.
Caught off guard, Shen clumsily and hurriedly juggled the glass vials before securing them against his chest. He heaved a sigh of relief, carefully tucking the pale green liquids into his inner coat pockets.
He turned toward Zayros, his tone laced with sharp displeasure. "What the hell, man, can't you be careful? What if I wasn't able to catch them in time? It would have wasted four healing potions that cost a fortune!"
Zayros scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sorry. Well, everything is alright. After all, you caught them, right? So we don't have to worry about it. Come on, let's get back to training."
Shen sighed heavily and stepped back onto the dirt.
.....
In a freezing, damp alleyway in Backlund, a lone figure dragged himself limply across the wet cobblestones, pulling his body as far away from the smoking, devastated crater at the alley's entrance as physically possible.
It was Shen. His expensive, tailored black overcoat was completely shredded, hanging off his shoulders in burnt, ruined strips.
The heavy gray cloak he had worn to the gathering was entirely gone, incinerated by the blast.
Every single muscle in his body screamed in protest. His head throbbed violently, a warm stream of blood dripping steadily from a gash on his forehead and blurring his vision.
He coughed, his chest rattling dangerously, and spat a mouthful of dark, metallic-tasting blood onto the stones.
His right leg dragged uselessly behind him. A jagged, rusted iron spike—blown outward by the sheer concussive force of the explosion—had lodged itself deeply into his calf muscle.
His left eye was entirely bloodshot, the capillaries ruptured by the extreme shift in air pressure.
Finally, he reached the dark, secluded corner of an intersecting alleyway and slumped heavily against the freezing brick wall, sliding down until he hit the ground.
He was exhausted beyond reason, his body trembling uncontrollably from shock and pain.
"...Lord... will... embraces..."
"Created... shadow..."
"...degenerate..."
Shen gritted his teeth, pressing the palms of his hands against his ears. Faint, illusory whispers continuously echoed in the back of his mind.
They were disjointed, maddening fragments of the True Creator's honorific name, clinging to his spirituality like a vile parasite.
He couldn't comprehend the full meaning of the whispers, but the sheer weight of them felt like rusted nails scraping against his skull.
I need to ignore them. Just ignore them. Do not listen to them.
Shen commanded himself, squeezing his eyes shut.
He leaned forward, his bloody fingers wrapping tightly around the rusted iron spike protruding from his leg.
He took a ragged, shallow breath, bracing himself. With a sharp, agonizing pull, he wrenched the metal free.
A strangled, breathless scream escaped his lips. Fresh, hot blood soaked through his torn canvas trousers.
His hands shook violently as he reached into the ruined inner pocket of his coat. Miraculously, the thick padding and his own body had shielded the small glass vials.
He pulled out three of the Earth Mother healing draughts, popped the corks with his teeth, and desperately downed all of them in quick succession.
The familiar, soothing warmth exploded in his stomach, rushing through his veins. The bleeding on his forehead slowed and scabbed over.
The torn muscle in his calf aggressively knitted itself back together, pushing the torn fabric of his trousers out of the wound.
The severe, rattling pain in his chest eased as his bruised ribs stabilized.
But it wasn't enough.
Though he was no longer bleeding out, a deep, hollow ache remained in his bones. His muscles felt like lead, and his head continued to pound with a sickening intensity.
Now I understand why Zayros specifically said these were for 'minor' injuries.
Shen thought, leaning his head back against the brick wall with a weary groan.
Surviving a localized divine explosion while dodging the corruptive fallout of a Secret Suppliant madman could be classified as a serious injury, right?
He was still in immense pain, but at least he was alive. Good thing he had managed to run just far enough away from the lunatic before the blast occurred, saving himself from the direct corruptive shock, even if the physical shockwave had nearly broken him in half.
Still, the constant headache from the illusory whispers was severely irritating him.
He needed to clear his mind before this minor corruption could take root in his exhausted spirituality.
Shen crossed his legs as best as he could, resting his bruised hands on his knees. He closed his bloodshot eyes and entered a state of deep meditation.
He focused entirely on the steady rhythm of his breathing, visualizing a calm, empty void, forcefully pushing the dark, chaotic babble of the True Creator out of his consciousness.
It took nearly twenty minutes of grueling mental effort, but slowly, the horrific whispers became distant, weakening until they were nothing more than a faint, easily ignored buzzing in his ears.
Shen opened his eyes, exhaling a long, cloudy breath into the freezing air.
He grabbed the wall and forced himself upright, his leg twinging sharply but holding his weight.
He couldn't stay here. The explosion would undoubtedly attract the Nighthawks, the Mandated Punishers, or the local police.
If an official Beyonder squad found him lingering near the remains of an Aurora Order monstrosity, his life would be over.
He limped out of the alley, sticking entirely to the deepest shadows and the thickest patches of Backlund fog.
It was an excruciatingly long walk back to Hillston Borough. By the time he finally reached the front door of his home, he was running purely on adrenaline and stubbornness.
He unlocked the door with agonizing slowness, wincing at the faint click of the mechanism.
The house was completely silent. Arthur, Elara, and Sera were deeply asleep.
Shen crept through the hallway like a ghost, his ruined boots making absolutely no sound on the floorboards.
He reached his bedroom, locked the door behind him, and stumbled forward. The sheer effort of returning to his safe bedroom had exhausted the very last reserves of his strength.
He unceremoniously dumped his leather bag—containing his newly purchased mystical ingredients and the specialized revolver—into the corner of the room.
He didn't even bother taking off his shredded, blood-stained clothes. He collapsed face-first onto the mattress and fell instantly into a deep, dreamless unconsciousness.
.....
Knock. Knock. Knock.
... Knock. Knock.
"Shen, Shen? Are you awake?"
The heavy, rhythmic knocking on the bedroom door violently dragged Shen back to reality. He groaned, his entire body stiffening as a wave of dull pain washed over him.
He blinked his eyes open, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains and stabbing painfully into his bloodshot eye.
"Shen?" Arthur's voice called out again, carrying a note of genuine concern. "It's past eleven. You usually don't sleep this late."
Shen was still feeling groggy, but Arthur's voice brought him back to his senses. He looked down at himself.
His clothes were tattered, stained with dried mud and dark patches of his own blood. The sight instantly banished his remaining grogginess, replacing it with sheer, adrenaline-fueled panic.
"I'm awake!" Shen called back, his voice sounding shockingly raspy. He quickly cleared his throat, using his Beyonder vocal control to smooth out the agonizing hoarseness. "I'm okay, brother! I'm just incredibly tired from my exercises yesterday. I pushed myself too hard. I just need some more rest."
He heard Arthur pause outside the door. A moment of silence passed before the older brother sighed. "Alright. The girls and I were concerned, but if it's just exhaustion, get some proper rest. There is food on the table if you get hungry."
"Thank you, Arthur," Shen replied, keeping his tone steady.
He listened carefully to the sound of Arthur's footsteps retreating down the hallway and descending the stairs.
Only then did Shen heave a massive sigh of relief. He could not, under any circumstances, let Arthur or his sisters see him in this horrific state.
Shen dragged himself out of bed, his muscles screaming from the lingering pain. He stripped off the ruined gentleman's clothes, wincing as the fabric peeled away from the dried blood on his chest and leg.
He retrieved a medical kit he kept stashed in his drawer, using clean bandages and ointment to properly bind the deeper cuts the potions hadn't fully closed.
He looked at his bed. The clean white sheets were now stained with large, dark patches of dried blood.
Sigh... I'll have to wash those myself later.
He thought with a grimace.
Then he retrieved his fourth and final healing draught from his ruined coat pocket and drank it down. The remaining aches in his body dulled significantly, allowing him to finally move without limping.
He took a seat on the edge of the mattress, staring blankly at the floor. The memories of yesterday's nightmare flooded back into his mind.
Shen shook his head violently, forcing the dark thoughts away.
He was safe and sound. That was all that mattered.
He stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, opening the leather bag he had tossed there the previous night. He carefully laid the items out on his desk.
The small wooden box containing the Spirit-Eater Tree Root. The glass vial holding the Shadow Leopard Pituitary Gland. The heavy leather box housing the specialized high-caliber revolver.
Everything was here, except for the Sun Domain Charm and ten of the specialized bullets. He opened the ammunition box; the Purifying and Exorcism bullets were completely gone, leaving only the ten Demon Hunting Bullets.
A sharp, physical heartache pierced Shen's chest as he realized he had literally thrown away 600 pounds in a single, terrifying second.
I spent a fortune on that charm, and I didn't even own it for three hours.
Shen complained inwardly, rubbing his face in frustration. But as he looked at the empty slots in the ammunition box, his frustration cooled into grim acceptance.
Well, I can't complain too much. That 600-pound piece of gold is the only reason I am alive. Money can be earned again. Life cannot.
Stopping his spiraling thoughts, Shen carefully hid the mystical materials beneath the loose floorboards of his bedroom.
He spent the rest of the day in bed, claiming to be sick to his siblings, and dedicated his time to deep rest and meditation to clear the lingering psychological trauma.
After two more days of solid rest, Shen's body had mostly recovered. The bruising had faded to a dull yellow, and his mobility had returned to normal.
Dressed in simple, durable clothes, he returned to the Brass Hound Mercenary Club.
When he found Zayros in the training yard, Shen paused. The massive mercenary was usually a picture of intimidating vitality and energy, but today, Zayros looked sad and depressed.
His left arm was tightly bound in heavy white bandages, a dark bruise covered half of his jaw, and he moved with a slight, noticeable stiffness.
"Oh, look who finally decided to show up," Zayros called out, offering a lopsided grin. "I thought my training had finally scared you off, kid."
"I was busy handling your troublesome errand," Shen retorted, walking closer. He looked pointedly at the heavy bandages on Zayros's arm. "And how exactly did you manage to get yourself injured? Did a building fall on you or something?"
Zayros let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "I could ask you the same thing, kid. You look a little paler than usual, and your right leg is limping slightly."
The mercenary gestured toward the wooden benches, and both men sat down heavily. Zayros reached for a metal canteen, taking a long drink before his expression turned somber.
"You remember I previously mentioned that my men and I were tracking down someone for a commission, right?" Zayros began, his voice losing its usual booming cheerfulness. "He was a Pyromaniac. And just so you know, Pyromaniac is a Sequence 7 of the Hunter pathway."
He explained it to Shen, assuming the young man would not know much about these things.
Don't worry buddy, I know that pathway intimately due to a certain Red Goat Nanny and a Mysticism Trash Can.
Shen lampoon inwardly, but he kept his expression perfectly ignorant.
Zayros continued recounting the event. "We knew he could be dangerous, but we had the numbers and the firepower to handle him." He tightened his grip on the canteen.
"What we didn't know was that the bastard possessed a Sealed Artifact from the Assassin pathway. A Sequence 8 Instigator item. That sealed artifact... it just... messed with our heads. It incited my men and amplified our stress, our paranoia, and our minor grievances until they turned into blinding rage against each other, each of us wanting to tear the other apart. Despite... how close we all were."
Shen listened quietly, a slight chill running down his spine. The true horror of a Beyonder battle was not always physical; it was often psychological, which is harder to fight against.
"It caused absolute chaos in the middle of the battle," Zayros continued, his voice dropping to a low, grieving rumble. "Luckily, I realized what was happening in time to break the artifact's influence, and we managed to kill the Pyromaniac. But... five of my men were killed in the crossfire."
He ground his teeth together in anger. "But not by an enemy. They were killed by their own brothers-in-arms. And I... I was nearly burned to ash trying to cover them. If my squad hadn't dragged me out of the raging inferno in time... if they hadn't—"
He smiled self-mockingly. "I wouldn't be sitting here chatting with you today."
Shen didn't know what to say to comfort the man. The grim reality of mercenary life was filled with extreme danger, especially in a twisted world like this.
It was a stark reminder of how easily life could be snuffed out, regardless of how strong or prepared a person thought they were.
Not wanting the atmosphere to remain depressing, Zayros shook his head, forcing his usual cheerful expression back onto his scarred face. "But enough about my miserable week. What about you, kid? Did you run into trouble at the gathering or something?"
Shen sighed, offering a tired, knowing smile. "I was incredibly unlucky on the way home. I ran into some lunatic from the Aurora Order, you know, that evil god-worshipping cult."
Zayros's eyes widened in genuine shock. As an experienced Beyonder, he knew many things other wild Beyonders didn't.
One of those things was exactly how terrifying the Aurora Order was.
Even if they were an evil cult constantly ganged up by the orthodox churches, they were still one of the most terrifying organizations.
Shen kept the details vague, entirely omitting his near encounter with the True Creator and the use of the Sun Charm, but he described the horrific mutation and the desperate firefight in the alleyway.
"An Aurora Order fanatic," Zayros whistled low, shaking his head. "Kid, if you survived a close-quarters encounter with a mutated zealot and walked away with only a limp leg, you are either blessed by the Goddess, extremely lucky, or you're one damn slippery man I've ever met."
Slippery? Me? If you looked at our resident cowardly trio, who are each harder to kill or hurt than the last, you would be surprised.
Shen complained internally with a grim expression.
Ignoring his own useless thoughts, he reached into his bag and pulled out the small wooden box. He handed it over to the mercenary. "Here is the ingredient for your Sequence 7."
Zayros's somber mood vanished entirely. He snatched the box eagerly, opening the lid to inspect the preserved, leathery ear of the Six-Armed Gray Ape.
His brown eyes lit up with profound excitement. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect. You did well, Shen. I'm going to advance right now."
Shen was genuinely surprised. He looked at the heavy bandages wrapping Zayros's arm. "Are you out of your mind? Aren't you still heavily injured? Brewing and consuming a potion in a weakened state is practically begging to lose control."
Zayros laughed, a loud, booming sound that echoed across the empty training yard. "Don't worry about me, kid. These injuries aren't that serious. My spirituality is completely stable, and I've fully digested my Pugilist potion long ago. I'm tougher than I look."
"Digested?" Shen asked, feigning surprise.
Shen knew perfectly well what digestion meant, but this knowledge was not spread widely among wild Beyonders. He had to act surprised to hear it from Zayros.
"Ah. Shit!" Hearing Shen ask the question, Zayros froze and cursed himself for the slip of the tongue. He coughed lightly and explained, "Cough, cough. Well... you see... this is advanced knowledge. One you will gain after some experience."
"But I will tell you a little bit since you brought me the ingredient. Even though you encountered a life-and-death situation, you still brought it to me." He said the last part a little quietly, but Shen caught what he said and smiled slightly. "Ok, listen up, Shen. Remember, the name of the potion you take is important. Try to act out what the potion's name implies."
Shen stared at him with a shocked expression, but inwardly he deadpanned.
What do you mean 'a little bit'? You basically almost spilled the entire acting method.
"Oh, thank you, Zayros, for sharing it with me. I did not know about this valuable knowledge," Shen thanked him sincerely, ensuring he didn't reveal that he already possessed the acting method.
Shen shook his head, effectively forcing the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Still... the plan to advance now is reckless... but if you are absolutely certain, I will wait outside the warehouse for you. Just in case."
"Don't worry, don't worry," Zayros dismissed with a wave of his uninjured arm. "It's alright. You can stay here with me. It doesn't bother me, and it might be good for you to see how a proper advancement is done."
Shen hesitated, but his curiosity won out. He decided to stay and watch.
Zayros stood up and walked into a reinforced storage room adjacent to the firing range.
He returned a few minutes later carrying a heavy iron cauldron, a portable gas burner, and several securely sealed glass containers holding the remaining ingredients for the Sequence 7 Weapon Master potion.
Shen watched intently as Zayros set up the makeshift laboratory on a sturdy wooden table.
"I managed to find the other main ingredient a few weeks ago," Zayros explained, uncorking a large jar.
Inside floated the severed, heavily muscled left paw of an Iron Bear. He dropped it into the bubbling water of the cauldron.
Next, he added the ear of the Six-Armed Gray Ape.
"Now for the supplementary materials," Zayros muttered, entirely focused on the brew. He poured in exactly one hundred milliliters of thick, crimson Iron Bear blood, followed by twenty coarse, gray strands of hair from the ape.
The water in the cauldron immediately began to boil violently, shifting from clear to a muddy, violent red.
Zayros reached into a leather pouch and pulled out ten rusted, broken arrowheads. "Dug these up from an ancient battlefield in the southern colonies a while back," he explained, dropping them into the mixture.
Lastly, he added a small tuft of blonde hair. "And... finally, the hair from a bounty target I defeated with my bare hands last month."
The moment the final ingredient touched the surface, the violent bubbling ceased instantly.
A heavy, metallic scent filled the air. The liquid inside the iron cauldron shifted rapidly, turning into a pitch-black, viscous fluid.
Small, jagged flakes of dark orange rust floated suspended within the dark liquid, giving it an incredibly unappetizing, dangerous appearance.
Zayros carefully poured the potion into a heavy glass flask. He held it up to the light, inspecting the floating rust, and grinned.
He looked at Shen, raising the flask in a mock toast. "Cheers, kid."
Without a moment of hesitation, Zayros brought the flask to his lips and drained the black liquid in three massive gulps.
He slammed the empty flask onto the table, his face instantly contorting in agony. Zayros gasped, clutching his throat. "Damn, it tastes awful. It feels like swallowing a handful of sharp, fine, rusted needles."
Suddenly, Zayros started to fell dizzy and staggered backward, colliding heavily with the wooden table.
Shen took a cautious step back, his hand instinctively reaching into his coat for his revolver.
Every single vein on Zayros's massive body bulged against his skin, turning a dark, bruised purple. His muscles spasmed violently, swelling to an unnatural size before compressing again.
A heavy, oppressive aura erupted from his body—the sharp, cutting intent of a drawn blade mixed with the overwhelming physical presence of a cornered beast.
Zayros fell to his knees, gritting his teeth so hard Shen could hear the enamel grinding. The mercenary's brown eyes snapped open, glowing with a mysterious, metallic light.
Shen watched with nervousness. If Zayros lost control here, Shen would have no choice but to shoot him.
For three agonizing minutes, the heavy silence of the yard was broken only by Zayros's ragged, struggling breaths.
Slowly, the bulging veins began to recede. The sharp, cutting aura surrounding him pulled back, settling deep into his physical frame. The glowing light in his eyes faded back to a normal, sharp brown.
Zayros collapsed forward, planting his hands on the dirt floor, and heaved a massive sigh of relief.
Then, he began to laugh. It started as a low chuckle and grew into a booming, exhilarated roar.
"I did it!" Zayros shouted, pushing himself off the ground with a speed that made his previous bulk look weightless. "I am now a Sequence 7 Weapon Master!"
Shen, standing a few feet away, felt his own tension evaporate. He let out a long breath, a slight smile breaking across his face. He stepped forward. "Congratulations on a successful advancement, Zayros."
The massive mercenary stood up, wiping sweat from his forehead. The heavy bandages on his arm looked incredibly loose now, as if the sheer influx of spirituality had already begun accelerating his natural healing.
"Thank you, Shen," Zayros said, his tone sincere. "I mean it. You securing that ingredient saved me weeks of dangerous hunting; who knows when this ingredient would have been available for me. If you ever need something in the future, whether it's muscle, information, or training, I will do everything within my capabilities to help you out."
"Well, I will hold you to that," Shen smiled.
They spent the next few minutes discussing the changes the potion had brought. Zayros eagerly tested his new abilities, picking up a heavy iron training staff and twirling it with a terrifying, blurred speed that sliced through the air like a razor-sharp blade.
Zayros explained, while easily snapping the thick iron staff in half with a quick twist of his wrists, "Looks like my strength, physique, and agility have doubled. But the real prize is the Weapon Mastery."
He then picked up a discarded, rusted dagger from a nearby table. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, his entire posture shifted.
He didn't just hold the weapon; he looked as though he had spent countless years mastering its precise weight and balance.
"As long as it can be classified as a weapon, the moment it is in my hands, I can use it like a master," Zayros grinned, tossing the dagger perfectly into the center of a wooden beam thirty feet away. "This includes Beyonder Weapons, like Mystical Items, and Sealed Artifacts. It even allows me to effectively reduce the negative damage caused by those items."
Shen nodded in deep appreciation, thoroughly impressed by the sheer, practical combat power of the Warrior pathway.
After a bit more conversation, Shen finally excused himself, leaving Zayros to revel in his newly acquired power.
As Shen walked out of the Brass Hound and began the long journey back to Hillston Borough, the adrenaline of the morning faded, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
This Beyonder world is too dangerous for a wild Sequence 9 to survive in for long.
Shen thought, his expression growing serious beneath the Backlund fog.
It looks like I have been taking things too lightly, too easily. I can't delay this any longer. I need to finish digesting the remaining half of the Rising Star potion fast, and advance to Sequence 8.