Eris always had a bit of a short temper. Perhaps that’s why his life always seemed to take a turn for the worse. He would get into trouble on almost every occasion, but he had always managed to recover from it, and as such, never really learned the importance of self-restraint. Worse yet, he often grew from the conflict, learning to love a good challenge and never backing down from a fight.

  That hot-blooded nature served him well through his long life as he made his way through the unfair world, until one day, it didn’t. It was when the open conflict began that he, against his better judgment, angered someone he shouldn’t. One of the high-ranking members of the Blazing Bloodstone Thunderbolt Clan.

  As the rulers of the area, they could not let the slight go unpunished.

  Subsequently, Eris was captured, beaten, and sentenced to death. Perhaps, if that was all there was, things would not have turned so miserable. Back then, he thought his life was over, as it rightfully should have been, but he was offered a chance to avoid capital punishment, and he took it.

  To pay for his crimes, Eris was conscripted into the army to fight for the Clan. With the promise of his pardon after a year of service, he dove into the fray. After all, what was a year for a Cultivator? Well, the funny thing was, he didn’t even last a week.

  As it turned out, he had been sent on a suicide mission together with a group of convicts and miscreants to fight on the front lines against the Drow. The war against the Ashen Skins was an open secret, but what they got to face off against were no frail, long-eared individuals as the rumors suggested. What they encountered were creatures of nightmare. Twisted forms of what once used to be animals and beasts. At least that much, he could tell.

  Then, they got slaughtered. His teammates scattered like leaves in the wind at the first sign of trouble, yet that did not save them from getting torn limb from limb, dying gruesome, slow deaths as the monsters feasted on their entrails.

  Ironically, he was one of the few to survive despite not fighting for once. At the sight of such brutality, he, sort of, just… froze. Then he was captured and dragged deeper into the enemy territory, where other prisoners of war were taken. He was scared, terrified, and forced to march beside monsters whose mere presence made him sick and lightheaded. His stomach churned at the smell of rot and decay wafting off their bodies, and he who once called himself brave nearly pissed himself at the sound of a mere growl.

  After arriving at their destination, Eris was tossed into a holding cell together with a few others and left there with no explanation. When their captors returned, they were accompanied by an escort of powerful beasts and forced them to comply. They were made to drink a disgusting, black tar-like substance. Those who tried to resist were killed without question, serving as a warning to the rest. Because of it all, from that day onward, they were never the same again.

  Days after they were forced to drink the mystery salve, and those who managed to remain alive were finally told what it was. Eris’ last rays of hope died that day. Escaping the clutches of the Blazing Bloodstone Thunderbolt Clan, he traded one hell for another, and death would have almost been preferable to the life that awaited him. Almost.

  However, as it turned out, Eris was terrified of death. He never thought that to be the case, going through life with reckless abandon, yet when he was forced to face his own mortality, he clung to life with all his might.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Even when his body was wracked with pain every single day, and he was forced to fight for the Drow, for the enemy he was supposed to kill, he did it. He fought against his fellow men, against the forces of human Cultivators, in the company of monsters he so dreadfully feared.

  He had seen what happened to all those who refused to obey, what became of them in the end. He did not envy their fate.

  And so he fought. He became their thrall. He battled and he killed until he couldn’t go any longer, and then he would be allowed a day to recover, only to once again be sent out into the fray, doing his best not to die.

  It all ended that day. The day of reckoning and salvation. The day he truly realized how high the Heavens were and how tiny and insignificant they were in comparison. All of them. The humans, the Drow, and even the monsters themselves. All were but dust to be blown away by the winds of change.

  They received word of a disturbance, and Eris and his team of monsters and human fighters were sent to take care of the problem, like many times before. The guys being forced to work for the Drow, despite being explicitly ordered to, did not like risking their lives. And so, they let the monsters do the heavy lifting. They let them go first, only joining the fight when things were already in full swing. That way they had the best chance of turning the tide of battle and emerging victorious. It was not so that day.

  They let the monsters go first. They were not worried. It was just two human Cultivators, after all. The two of them flew from afar and landed with a heavy boom, kicking up sand. Confident, but Eris had seen others acting just the same. Some of them were even at the first step of the Sky Realm. They had beaten or killed them just the same. He had no reason to think any different, after all, those two were just at Level Eight and Level Five. Easy pickings.

  Eris mentally apologized for what they were about to do to them. The beasts took on the stronger one while they surrounded the weaker man. He looked confident, but they all did before they died.

  That day was different.

  At first, the giant monster died. A piercing blackness encased the beast and the man, hiding them both from their senses. A moment later, it was over. The invincible beast lay crushed into paste at the stronger Cultivator’s feet.

  That’s when it happened. The impossible became real.

  [Ready to play a game?] The other man grinned.

  Eris felt his skin crawl and his heart nearly seized in fear, and the others must have felt the same. All at once, ten Avatars formed, giants out of pure energy, with each Cultivator floating in the middle, protected from all sides. The innate ability of a Spirit Realm Cultivator, the perfect defense and offense in one. As nearly all of them were at the peak of the Spirit Realm, the fight should have been easy. And in truth, it was. It lasted no more than a few seconds.

  [Oh, right… Avatars. Nearly forgot about those. I spent a lot of time in the Lower Plane, you see? Not much Qi down there to use such a wasteful technique.] The other Cultivator commented casually.

  One of Eris’ companions responded by roaring and attacked, his actions fueled by fear.

  [They feel just a bit… lacking, you know?]

  The man stood on the sand, and in the next moment, he was in the sky, standing before the giant. He threw out a simple-looking yet lightning-fast punch, and the Avatar collapsed. The frontal energy barrier imploded while the back portion was blown out, throwing out the Cultivator hiding inside.

  The others attacked without delay, moving as fast as they could, but then the guy simply clapped once, and it was all over.

  A thundering boom spread from his hands, accompanied by the strongest disruptive wave Eris had ever felt, making him stumble. He alone remained upright as the only one not attacking while the others’ Avatars burst like overinflated balloons, with their creators coughing out blood. For all the power they gave, the backlash of a destroyed Avatar was often quite severe. Techniques that were directly connected to the Soul often did that.

  [And what do we have here?] Eris heard, and his body involuntarily twitched. A man whose Level was no higher than five was standing before him. And despite being a Level Nine himself, he felt his body tremble. All his teammates were beaten instantly. The monsters were killed without effort. What chances did he have?

  Unknown to him, the weirdness had only just begun.