Zamian felt as if thousands of logs were pressing down on him, forcing him to use all his strength just to avoid bending in Elwood’s direction.

  Gritting his teeth, he stared at the purple-robed man with bloodshot eyes.

  The same way Dante had made cultivators feel an invisible pressure a few days ago at Yokki’s cottage, the current Lord Chosen was now doing the same—but only to Zamian.

  Two thoughts passed through Zamian’s mind.

  ‘Are these vipers betraying their own father?’ Then, he grinned. ‘Ruen was really a twig of a Warlord. That vermin never once used this kind of technique on me.’

  “Stay that way,” Elwood nodded slightly, his brown eyes glowing with a green hue.

  Then, he turned to the three Children of Verdant and bowed slightly. “Pardon me, Children. As I was saying, it would be of great importance—”

  He was interrupted again.

  “Pathetic. You can’t even control a boy,” Claus sneered. “Shut up and do as I said. And wait for his–”

  This time, Claus was the one interrupted. A firm grip squeezed his shoulder.

  Horus stood still, staring at the walls, saying nothing, his fingers tightening on his younger brother’s shoulder.

  Claus paled slightly, then quickly muttered, “Whatever. Put him and his friends in the Deep Ground.”

  Horus let him go.

  Elwood looked like he wanted to argue, but one sharp glare from Horus silenced him.

  Reina clung to her older brother’s arm, smiling through the entire exchange.

  Silence stretched as Zamian avoided using his essence to combat the pressure.

  “We are leaving,” Horus said, turning toward the main building’s exit.

  Claus followed, his steps small and measured, while Reina lightly jumped, her movements completely soundless.

  Once the three Children of Verdant disappeared through the largest vined door, which was already open, the other Chosen visibly relaxed, their breaths coming easier.

  The Lord Chosen corked an eyebrow, put both hands behind his back, and raised his chin, muttering, staring at Zamian with his small, piercing eyes.

  “Does he have friends?” he asked.

  “The male Enlightened by his side, one female Enlightened, one Great Warrior, and a commoner that we locked up when you arrived,” Fern answered, his eyes shifting between Elwood, Zamian, and Bohlo.

  “He has any other connections here?” Elwood asked, shooting a glance at Yokki.

  The veiled, orange-haired woman thought for a moment before nodding. “Three mortal kids. And possibly the Warrior Chosen too.”

  Elwood turned his head calmly toward the Chosen behind him. “Five of you, invite Marlos to meet me later. The rest of you will go with Yokki and Calla and bring his friends to me.”

  Four male Chosen and one female glowed with green light before rushing toward the door. The remaining one stepped forward, nodding at Yokki and Calla.

  “They are—” Yokki began, pointing at a closed vined door when they all felt a sudden spike of essence.

  Zamian had kicked the ground, enhancing his body with Light’s essence as he reached for the green leaf hidden inside his inner shirt.

  A thunderous crack erupted as the wooden floor shattered. A wave of splinters burst outward, sending Bohlo tumbling backward as he fell.

  Yokki also stumbled, but thanks to Calla’s quick reflexes, she was caught before she could hit the ground.

  Fern conjured a giant leaf and hurled it toward Zamian, but the young cultivator’s speed made it miss completely.

  A second later, the three leaders of the Camp of Salvation widened their eyes. Even Fern seemed momentarily surprised.

  The Lord Chosen took a step back, his cold eyes betraying a flicker of disbelief as his trembling lips parted slightly. He reached for his neck, massaging the fresh wound—a thin line of blood now marked his skin.

  Zamian coughed blood, grinning, his right hand clutching a green leaf stained red.

  Holding his wrist was the left hand of the Chosen woman who had remained in place.

  She radiated green light, furiously channeling Nature’s essence into her body, empowering herself not only with essence but also a technique that made her skin take a green hue.

  Her right hand pressed against Zamian’s chest, standing firmly between him and Elwood.

  The impact of her strike had been immense, given both their speeds. It had ruptured some of the internal tubes acting as his organs, causing him to cough up blood.

  But it didn’t stop him from grinning.

  “Pathetic,” he muttered, staring at the Lord Chosen, who was looking at his own hand stained by the blood from his neck.

  Elwood sent green essence to the wound, sealing it shut, before returning his focus to Zamian.

  “What essence are you cultivating?” the Lord Chosen asked.

  Zamian tried to move, but the Chosen gripping his wrist tightened her hold.

  So, he remained silent.

  Elwood turned to Fern and the others. “Did you discover anything about him?”

  “We are still—” Calla began, only to be interrupted.

  “Say no, it’s simple.” The Lord Chosen looked directly at Fern. “Why does he have one of your leaves?”

  ‘He was interrupted so many times, and now he’s the one blocking others from speaking. Such a nutcase,’ Zamian jested inwardly, his instincts screaming at him louder than ever. The sheer absurdity of the situation almost made him want to laugh in despair.

  ‘Yes, Fern, why am I holding on to your leaves? It was you who put it inside Bohlo?’

  “We evaluated that he has the same weaknesses as his father, and while we can’t kill him, we thought it would be wise to target his friends and make him lose control,” Fern answered slowly, his tone contrasting against the fiery demeanor he put in front of Zamian.

  Zamian looked at him and said. “I will kill you.”

  Fern didn’t spare him a glance.

  The Chosen holding Zamian, however, moved to strike his chest with a palm attack.

  Zamian caught her wrist with his free hand.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “We are just talking, keep calm.”

  The woman’s eyes widened as she realized Zamian’s strength matched her own.

  Elwood also took notice. “You three let him grow this much in just a few days? Your incompetence is beyond me.” He shook his head. “And your friend, boy, the one behind you, what’s his name? Is he as worthless to you as these people are to me?”

  Zamian chose to stay silent.

  “Let him go, Hazel,” the Lord Chosen said, stepping to Zamian’s side. “If he tries anything, kill the Enlightened.”

  Chosen Hazel didn’t seem pleased with the order, but she released Zamian’s wrist.

  Zamian also let go of her and stepped back, his eyes shifting between Elwood, Hazel, Calla, and Fern.

  “Yokki and Calla, bring his companions here. Fern, stay with the Enlightened,” Elwood said, his eyes glowing with a green hue.

  The veiled Yokki and the elder Calla nodded, passing through a vined door and leaving the main room.

  Fern stepped toward Bohlo.

  Zamian split his focus, consciously tracking Bohlo and Fern’s movements while keeping his eyes locked on the two Chosen standing in front of him.

  “Now, will you tell me what kind of essence you are cultivating, or should I torture you and your friend?”

  ‘Are they going to kill Bohlo? Or use Tulip and Uncle Soho against me? Kurt isn’t important, I could use him… And the kids, well...’

  Zamian’s thoughts spiraled. He had acted on impulse before, faster than even he could process, but he now understood how dangerous that move had been.

  ‘Even if I kill this vermin, Fern, Calla, and this Hazel could still fight me and use Bohlo as leverage.’

  “Fern, break the Enlightened’s arm.”

  Before Zamian could react, he heard the sickening crunch of bone snapping, followed by the sound of muscle twisting and a piercing scream.

  Turning sharply to his friend, Zamian’s eyes widened as he took in the scene.

  Bohlo’s right arm was now twisted unnaturally, held firmly in Fern’s single left hand.

  “You blighted piece of rotten wood!” Zamian cursed, his body radiating white light as he nearly took a step toward Bohlo—only to be stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder.

  Hazel held him back, while Elwood was at his side, watching his movements.

  Forcing himself to stay in control, Zamian activated his enhanced senses, analyzing the situation.

  His instincts, on the other hand, were useless at this moment.

  ‘They could have killed Bohlo by now.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘And against the three of them, I doubt I can do much. Maybe die while taking one with me. Probably Fern. But that’s it.’

  Listening to their heartbeats and catching their glances, he soon noticed something else.

  ‘Fern keeps looking at my hand. At his leaf.’

  Time seemed to slow in his perception as he kept thinking.

  ‘Hazel’s armor is cracked from when I grabbed her wrist, and she hasn’t used essence to repair it. Why would she conserve such a small amount?’

  Shifting his attention to Hazel and Elwood, he smiled inwardly.

  ‘They are both injured. Maybe they don’t want to risk getting more wounds. But why?’

  His thoughts were still racing when Bohlo suddenly stopped screaming and shouted, “Flee! Leave me here and flee!”

  Zamian looked at his friend, who was sweating and clutching his broken arm.

  Bohlo had regained clarity, even if only for a moment, from his unnatural state.

  But more importantly, Zamian heard Elwood’s heart skip a beat.

  “Keep silent if you don’t want to die,” the Lord Chosen said.

  Zamian grinned and turned to face him.

  “Did you notice, Lord Chosen?” he said, spitting out the last words with mockery. “I can move pretty fast.”

  Elwood’s heart skipped another beat.

  “You want me to attack you, don’t you?” Zamian chuckled. “Otherwise, why would you approach me, knowing I can strike you in an instant? After all, why does it matter for you if they hurt me or Bohlo if you’re already dead?”

  As he finished speaking, he poured a massive surge of essence into his hands, channeling a strong intention:

  ‘Begin a new cycle, my Seed of Creation.’

  Elwood’s eyes widened as his body shone with green light, and the image of a tree trunk appeared behind him.

  Hazel moved, her body glowing as she lunged forward, aiming a palm strike at Zamian.

  Fern raised his left arm, making a pulling motion with his hand.

  A blinding white light illuminated the central room of the main building, followed by a wave of destruction.

  Zamian’s index fingers each formed a glowing white sphere, and he pressed them against Hazel’s palms and the Lord Chosen’s arm.

  But most importantly, as Zamian enhanced his body, he redirected the flow of Light’s essence into the bloodied green leaf in his right hand—just as it began to shine with green light—destroying it.

  And everything else happened too fast.

  The Seed of Creation targeting Hazel entered her palm, but her strike shattered not only Zamian’s left finger but also his entire left hand.

  However, the female Chosen did not attempt a second attack. She collapsed to her knees, screaming as her essence was devoured by the tiny sphere now crawling up her arm.

  Zamian’s right finger, on the other hand, was gone.

  Elwood had used a strange technique, unleashing Nature’s essence from within himself and from the image of the tree trunk behind him. It surged forward with unnatural speed, creating a whirlwind powerful enough to pulverize Zamian’s enhanced flesh and bones.

  But it could not stop the Seed of Creation.

  The Lord Chosen did not scream. Instead, he kicked the ground, putting distance between himself and Zamian as he looked down at the gaping hole in his right arm.

  More images of tree trunks appeared around him as he blasted through the main building’s walls.

  Zamian, meanwhile, had thrown himself backward, using the force of the clash to accelerate his movement.

  With enhanced control, heightened senses, and most importantly, a planned trajectory, the young cultivator rolled along the ground, stopping beside Bohlo and Fern.

  The one-armed Chosen was already conjuring his wooden spear when Zamian stood up.

  Grinning, Zamian grabbed Bohlo and moved his lips without making a sound.

  ‘You. Are. Next.’

  Fern instinctively took a defensive stance.

  And Zamian dashed straight toward Calla and Yokki’s direction, carrying Bohlo on his shoulder.

  Fern reacted a moment too late, scowling. But before he could move, Hazel’s screams grew even louder, followed by a shout from Elwood.

  “Cut my arm, now!”

  Meanwhile, Zamian had already broken through the vined door but could still clearly hear the voices behind him.

  A moment later, he also heard the sharp sound of flesh being cut.

  ‘I like this,’ he thought as he shifted his hearing through his mental sound spheres, searching for Yokki, Calla, or the people they had locked up. ‘Why do I like this?’

  Destroying the floor with his uncontrolled steps and trying to hurt Bohlo as little as possible, Zamian took only a few seconds to hear Calla’s voice.

  He made a sharp turn, his movements loud, and crashed through two vined doors before finally finding who he was looking for.

  In front of him, inside a room made of vines and roots, stood ten rectangular human-sized cages.

  They were all empty.

  In the middle of the room, Tulip, Soho, and Kurt were covered in a thick, green viscous liquid. Yokki stood beside them, gripping a wooden knife.

  Calla was also there and had both hands raised, a stream of green essence flowing from her arms and connecting to the liquid that held Zamian’s friends captive

  ‘She’s a Cleric,’ he thought.

  “If you move, boy, they will die,” Calla shouted.

  ‘She heals people and maybe has some soul attacks like Yokki,’ Zamian tried to recall everything he knew about Clerics, about Yokki, and about Calla herself.

  “Now put your friend down and step inside the Root Cage closest to you,” she ordered.

  ‘This old viper’s body is tired, her heart beating faster than Yokki’s, but her breathing is shallow.’ His eyes gleamed.

  “Do as I said! Now!”

  Zamian slowly placed Bohlo down, noticing that his friend looked dazed once more.

  Then, without a word, he glanced at Calla and Yokki before stepping closer to one of the cages on his right.

  Tulip, Soho, and Kurt remained motionless, eyes shut, the liquid pressing against their bodies, covering their mouths.

  ‘Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she could hurt them,’ Zamian thought, staring at the cage instead of Calla. ‘But I’m sure that doing nothing will lead to someone’s death.’

  As his hand touched the Root Cage, he immediately felt it trying to drain his essence, stopping the enhancement on his four-fingered right hand.

  At the same time, with his enhanced hearing, he caught the sound of Calla sighing.

  It was a sigh of relief.

  Quickly, he turned around, burning his Light’s essence and rushing at Calla.

  The old Chosen was momentarily caught off guard and shouted, “Stop!”

  A wave of green viscous liquid gushed toward Zamian.

  He didn’t attempt to dodge to the sides, because doing so would entangle him in one of the cages.

  He couldn’t jump either, as the ceiling was too low.

  In fact, moving away could mean the wave would hit Bohlo.

  So, of course, Zamian walked through it.

  The moment the liquid hit him, he felt a strong intent within it, commanding him to stay still, to not move.

  The wound on his left hand and index finger healed, but the one on his right simply closed—there was nothing left to heal there.

  Worse still, his essence was moving against his will.

  ‘I don’t have much left,’ he realized. ‘Checking with the White Dot would also be dangerous since it affects my vision.’

  Zamian didn’t want to be distracted while fighting against a Chosen!

  With his body glowing a brilliant white light, he tried another tactic.

  ‘Nothing will stop my new cycle.’

  Just as he had done with the Seed of Creation, he now poured his intentions into the essence enhancing his body.

  He was trying to conjure a lost technique.

  Tiny white spheres began forming around him, only to be destroyed and carried away by the rushing liquid.

  ‘Don’t. Let. It. Stop. My. New. Cycle.’

  This was Zamian calling out to his essence for help.

  ‘This liquid can’t stop me! How could I let a technique meant to heal others be enough to stop me?’

  His instincts screamed.

  And then, the flow of essence changed.

  The light radiating from his body condensed, and the tiny spheres fused with his skin, triggering a transformation.

  His body grew in mass as he turned into a being made of white light. His arms and legs became thicker with muscle.

  A blinding flash of white light filled the room.

  Less than a second later, Calla’s body was hurled against the walls. Her technique faded as she lost consciousness.

  And where she had stood moments ago, a naked Zamian now grinned, blood trickling from his body.

  “Beginning of the Cycle,” he muttered, his bloodshot eyes shifting to Yokki and his three unconscious companions on the floor.

  “Welcome back.”