The courtyard was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind and the faint thrum of Ryan’s breath. His hands were out, fingers relaxed, going through the motions as his mind focused on the movements.

  He had always been a natural when it came to fighting, but Adept Styles were different. It was more than power or speed. It was understanding one’s own body. The motions were subtle, slow, but they carried destruction when executed correctly.

  Round Fist.

  Ryan swung his fist slowly at the hay training dummy, moving in the smooth, deliberate arc of the technique. His fist landed with a sharp crack, tearing through the dried hay and sending a small cloud of dust into the air.

  He pulled back, watching as the hay exploded, the training dummy falling to pieces from the impact. Despite the slow motion of the strike, the strike was powerful, capable of breaking through defenses that would’ve held against regular punches.

  Ryan flexed his clenched fist, feeling the surge of power from the Demon Blood still coursing through his veins. The boost in his strength and speed was undeniable, and it didn’t just affect his fightin. Everything felt sharper, more focused.

  But the question lingered. How long would it last? How much of the buff from the potion was temporary? Was it going to be part of him forever?

  Ryan exhaled, trying to shake off the doubts. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

  He shifted his focus back to the task at hand.

  A large steel pot sat a few paces away from him, filled with sand. Ryan’s eyes narrowed, focusing on it with a singular purpose. This was the next step. The next level.

  He pulled his arm back, rotating his fist in a smooth, fluid arc. The movement was almost meditative. The build-up of power. An explosive force waiting to be unleashed.

  Vortex Punch.

  Ryan launched his fist forward, the circular motion building into something far stronger. His fist tore a hole in the steel pot, sand spilling out as the pot crushed under the strength of his strike.

  The power he felt was different.

  It was the technique, not Demon Blood, Ryan thought to himself. Though a doubt lingered in his mind. The Demon Blood had amplified everything. His speed. His strength. Was this all just because of that?

  The crunch of steel boots against the stone courtyard broke through the swirling thoughts in Ryan's mind. He turned sharply, instinctively going on the defensive. But the moment his eyes landed on the familiar figure, his body relaxed.

  Master Terrance.

  Standing tall and his armor glinting in the sun, Master Terrance had always been a figure Ryan had looked up to.

  "Hello, Ryan," Terrance’s voice was deep, but warm. "Looks like you’ve improved much."

  Ryan blinked, surprised by the praise. He wasn’t expecting Terrance to be here, especially not now, when his own thoughts were tangled in confusion. But Master Terrance was always direct, and there was a sincerity to his words that caught Ryan off guard.

  "I wasn’t expecting you, Master Terrance," Ryan said.

  Terrance chuckled, a brief, easy sound that didn’t quite match the weight of his usual presence. "Sorry, I wasn’t trying to sneak up behind you," he said. "I just wanted to thank you."

  Ryan’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he waited for Terrance to continue. "I heard from Mrs. Keys that you helped her with all the rank keys."

  Ryan’s mouth opened slightly, but the words didn’t come at first. The praise felt uncomfortable, like it didn’t quite fit. He didn’t feel like he’d done anything worth being thanked for, not when it was done with Demon Blood.

  "It was nothing, I just stepped in," Ryan said, shrugging it off.

  "Well, you did the right thing there, Ryan," Terrance said.

  The right thing? He thought back to everything that had happened. His impatience, his mistakes, his foolishness. Had he really done the right thing?

  For the first time in a long while, Ryan felt a sense of accomplishment. He had done something good.

  Maybe.

  But then, as if the thought was too much, Ryan quickly changed the subject, needing to move on from the weight of the praise that he felt unworthy of.

  "What did you do with all the keys?" Ryan asked.

  "It was strange," Terrance said. "All the keys disappeared a day after they spawned. I don’t know why that is, but we’ll be on the lookout if it happens again."

  Ryan nodded silently. The keys, so important to those seeking to level up, disappearing without explanation.

  Terrance shifted again, his posture slightly less rigid. "I should head off now," he said, his voice gentler. "Keep training, Ryan. I’m proud to see how far you’ve come."

  The words carried a weight that Ryan wasn’t sure he was ready for, but in that moment, he understood. It wasn’t his past, his mistakes or his skill. It was about the man Ryan was becoming. And as Terrance turned to leave, Ryan felt a strange sense wash over him.

  The right thing.

  The words from Terrance echoed in Ryan’s mind again, but the sting of truth felt like a distant hum. Demon Blood had been the real savior. It had made him strong enough to help Mrs. Keys, strong enough to pass the Bronze Rank Test. But there was no honor in it, no honesty.

  Proud.

  Ryan repeated the word silently, but it felt foreign, hollow.

  No more.

  The words were quiet but firm, like a vow made in his mind. He couldn’t go on relying on the Demon Blood. No more. Not if it meant losing himself.

  He couldn’t allow it. Even if it meant losing his life or the lives of those he cared about, he couldn’t take another drop of that cursed power. Not again.

  But before his thoughts could delve deeper, a young voice interrupted his silent brood.

  "Adept Ryan, Adept Ryan!"

  Ryan’s head snapped up as a trainee rushed toward him, a look of urgency on his face.

  "Adept Vynessa is waking up," the trainee said.

  At the mention of Vynessa, Ryan felt a rush of something else. Relief, but also anxiety. She had been unconscious for so long after the attack, and Ryan had spent the days since her injury wondering if she would ever wake.

  He had kept himself busy, training, helping Mrs. Keys, dealing with his own inner demons, but in the back of his mind, Vynessa’s condition had always been there.

  Without a word, Ryan nodded sharply, and the trainee, sensing the urgency, turned and began to lead him toward Vynessa’s room. Ryan moved quickly, following behind him with long strides.

  They arrived at the door to her room quickly, and the trainee paused, nodding at Ryan, then stepping aside to give him space.

  Ryan didn’t hesitate. He pushed open the door, his heart pounding as he entered the room.

  Ryan watched as Vynessa stirred slowly, her eyes fluttering open, the confusion and grogginess still lingering in her gaze.

  "Took you long enough to wake up," he said.

  Vynessa blinked, clearly disoriented, her hands moving instinctively as she tried to sit up. "What do you mean?" she mumbled.

  Ryan leaned back in the chair beside her, his arms crossed.

  "You were knocked out during the bronze rank test.".

  Vynessa’s eyes snapped open as she fully processed what Ryan said. Her face shifted from confusion to full-blown alarm.

  "How long was I out for?"

  "A couple weeks, maybe."

  Vynessa’s jaw dropped slightly, her face flashing with disbelief. "But I didn’t die?"

  "No, no you didn’t.”

  "What about you? What happened to you, Ryan?"

  Ryan paused for a moment, then shrugged it off, not wanting to draw attention to the things he had to do to save her.

  "I managed to escape with you."

  "So we failed?" she asked. It was the final blow to her dreams.

  Ryan stared at her for a moment, pretending to look down at his hands.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  And then he pulled it out.

  The small orb from their rank test. The one he grabbed from the square from the test.

  "We passed," Ryan said.

  Vynessa’s eyes widened, the shock and disbelief in her expression impossible to hide. She stared at him for a moment, trying to process what he was saying.

  “We… We passed?”

  Ryan nodded. He held onto the orb for a long time. But he wanted to wait until Vynessa woke up to open it.

  “Yeah, we passed.”

  Her hand instinctively reached for the orb as she sat up straighter, her eyes searching for confirmation.

  "We should crack it open and see what loot is inside," Ryan said.

  She pushed it back to him, her gaze steady.

  "I didn’t pass, Ryan," she said, her voice a bit quieter now. "You saved me and got the orb. You passed."

  Vynessa was strong, stoic, someone who carried the weight of the world without complaint. But now, there was something else in her voice. The feeling that she hadn’t done enough to earn it. Her value was something personal, hard-won. And it had to be by her own hand.

  Ryan swallowed, pushing back the thoughts swirling in his mind. The secrets he hadn’t told her, the things he had kept hidden. The Demon Blood. It had helped him, helped them.

  Would she understand? Would she even want to know?

  "We got the orb, so we passed, right?" His voice was quiet. He tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter how it had happened.

  "It doesn’t count," she said quickly. "Not when I can’t even remember it."

  He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. But he wouldn’t let disappointment break her. He wouldn’t let her wallow in this.

  “You’re Bronze level now,” Ryan said. "We can get a bronze key and find a bronze master. You kill him, take his orb and that’s like a rank test."

  Vynessa didn’t respond immediately. She paused, staring down at her hands, fingers moving slightly as if she were processing his words. She seemed to consider it for a long time, the silence thick and pressing.

  "I need to tell Master Lagos about what happened," she said. "And he can decide."

  “Master Lagos is still away.”

  “Then I’ll talk to him when he gets back."

  There was a pause. Silence. Then, it broke.

  “I’ll need some rest now, Ryan.”

  As Ryan left the room, he paused at the door, glancing back one last time. He didn’t want to leave her alone with these feelings. But for now, there was nothing more he could do.

  ******

  The moon hung high above Newvale, casting its pale light over the town. Ryan moved through the streets, his thoughts a swirl of confusion and guilt. His interaction with Vynessa echoed in his mind, the way she had refused to accept the glory that didn’t belong to her.

  The truth of it was hard to swallow—Demon Blood had given him the strength, the power to protect, to fight, to survive. But at what cost?

  The guilt gnawed at him. It seemed like a blessing but felt like a curse. Demon Blood had amplified his body, his mind, his abilities, at the expense of his integrity. Now, he needed to find a way to rid himself of it, to be free of the lies running through his veins.

  If he didn’t, there would be no way he could come clean to Vynessa. Her honesty had inspired him to do the same.

  Ryan’s thoughts, sharp and heavy, pushed him forward through the market. The town around him was quiet, the streets empty, save for the occasional flicker of movement in the dark corners. He leapt onto the rooftops, the higher elevation helping him to find what he was looking for quicker.

  Ironic, Ryan thought, as he leapt from one rooftop to another. He was using the very power that had been given to him by Demon Blood to find a way to rid himself of it

  Ryan’s feet barely made a sound as he dashed across the rooftops. He didn’t know where he was headed. The seller seemed to appear when he wanted. The tall, pale figure who had been all too eager to give him a vial.

  It wasn’t long before he found the seller, a figure cloaked in shadow, standing at the edge of a narrow alley.

  The man’s pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the moon, his face hidden beneath a hood. His coat, dark and long, swished around his legs as he turned toward Ryan.

  “Well, there,” the seller said. “You look like you’re in a hurry. Ready for another vial?”

  The seller opened his coat with a flourish, revealing a dozen vials of Demon Blood, each one glowing faintly with an eerie light. The potions looked alive, the liquid inside swirling as though it was more than just a simple mixture. Each vial was bottled temptation, a curse and a boon.

  “No,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “I need to get rid of it.”

  The hooded figure before him tilted his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he regarded Ryan with a strange amusement.

  “It’s still giving me strength and speed weeks after I drank the potion,” Ryan continued.

  “That’s the point,” the seller said. “It gives a big boost initially, but your baseline goes up too. There isn’t any other potions that do that.”

  “I want to get rid of the effects,” Ryan said again.

  The seller's eyes narrowed, the shadow of his hood falling further over his face. His smile faltered, replaced with something sharper.

  “Are you insane?” The words were low, almost a growl. “That potion is bound to you. A part of you forever. There’s no going back.”

  Forever? Could he really never escape it? Could he never break free from the curse of the Demon Blood that now flowed through his veins?

  No, he thought. He would find a way.

  Before he could say another word, Ryan reached out, desperate to seize the seller and demand the answers he wanted. “Tell me!” Ryan shouted.

  But the seller was too quick. He leaned back, out of Ryan’s reach, sliding into the shadows like a ghost, his body vanishing.

  “No refunds.”

  Before he could even react, the seller’s form materialized again, this time darting away into the alley. Ryan didn’t think. His instincts took over, and he rushed forward, his feet pounding against the cobblestone ground.

  “Come back here!” Ryan shouted.

  But as he closed the distance, something flashed out of the corner of his eye.

  Two daggers shot out from the shadows beside him, thrown with the precision of someone who knew exactly where he’d be. The first dagger barely missed his head, the second one cutting through the air just inches from his torso.

  He ducked, twisting his body out of the way with a sharp movement, his heart hammering in his chest. But the momentary distraction was enough. It slowed him down, just long enough for the seller to gain more ground.

  The shadowed figure darted down the alley like a shadow in motion. Ryan's breath was heavy as he pursued the shadowy figure, each stride pushing him harder as he closed the distance between himself and the seller.

  Ryan’s body instinctively shifted as he slammed his fist forward with a swift motion, using the full force of his enhanced strength and technique.

  Impact Fist.

  His fist landed with a crushing blow, but it didn’t land on the seller. Instead, there was nothing but a smoke-like illusion that faded away almost immediately.

  Sky Leap.

  Without thinking, Ryan jumped, his legs pushing off the ground with explosive force, carrying him upward, landing on the rooftops of Newvale. He scanned the landscape, eyes flicking from side to side, catching a glimpse of the seller just ahead.

  The figure turned his head, locking eyes with Ryan for a split second before darting away again, vanishing down another alley.

  Ryan gritted his teeth and surged forward, his legs moving fast. He barely even had time to blink before the shadows around him began to shift again.

  In the corner of his eye, he saw it. A tendril of shadow slithered from the depths of the alley, its shape lashing out at him with the speed of a striking serpent.

  Ryan’s instincts kicked in, his body turning in one fluid motion. His palms rotated in precise smaller circles, the motion to parry the attack.

  Way of the Circle, Spiral Protection.

  The attack slipped past him and he jumped over the shadowy tendril. His feet barely touched the ground as he continued the chase. But it wasn’t over.

  More daggers.

  He heard the sound of something whistling through the air. Ryan’s eyes widened as he saw several daggers coming from every angle, flying towards him.

  Spiral Protection had worked before, but this was different. That was for one big strike. With so many attacks, coming from multiple angles, it was impossible.

  He thought back to his swordsmanship days, the lessons drilled into him by his old masters. It wasn’t the same, but it might work. The technique was designed for swordplay, quick strikes, blades flashing everywhere. It had to work.

  Iron Curtain.

  Ryan’s hands shot out, moving faster than he could think, his arms a blur of action. His hands, like blades themselves, cut through the barrage of daggers. The daggers, one by one, were sent careening to the ground.

  His arms flowed like water, each parry sharp, controlled. His movements were so quick that it felt as though the daggers were never meant to touch him.

  It was as though his arms were the swords.

  But the daggers didn’t stop. They increased, coming faster now, slashing through the air from impossible angles. Some aimed at his chest, others at his legs. The attacks left no room for error.

  His body responded in force, moving faster than his mind could keep up.

  And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the daggers stopped.

  Ryan exhaled, his breath coming out in short bursts. Sweat trickled down his face, his fingers numb from the impact of the daggers he had deflected.

  But as he stood there, the adrenaline still buzzing in his body, he realized one thing for sure. Demon Blood might have enhanced his abilities, but it was his training, his discipline, that had saved him here.

  He glanced around but the shadows had retreated. The chase wasn’t over yet.

  Ryan’s boots pounded against the streets of Newvale. He had searched high and low, every alley, every corner, every shadow but the trail was cold.

  As the sky turned from dark blue to pale orange, Ryan’s steps slowed, the weariness setting in. It had been a night of running, of chasing shadows, and now there was nothing to show for it.

  The seller had slipped through his fingers, vanishing into the darkness. Ryan's breath was ragged, his mind still churning with questions. Where did he go?

  His feet carried him back to the martial arts school without thought, the familiar ground beneath him offering little comfort. The school courtyard was empty as the first rays of morning light filtered through the stone walls. Ryan felt drained, like all the energy he had been running on was beginning to fade.

  But then, he saw her.

  There, in the center of the courtyard, stood Vynessa. She held her hands straight up, fingers intertwined, her feet firmly planted on the ground. Ryan recognized the stance instantly. It was another Adept Style.

  Way of the Clock. She wasn’t moving a muscle, her body perfectly still, like a moment frozen in time.

  “Looks like you’re feeling better,” Ryan said.

  Vynessa opened her eyes slowly, the focus in her gaze never wavering. She tilted her head slightly, an eyebrow raised. “You’re up early today.”

  Ryan shrugged, unsure of what to say. The chase, the failure of his own search for answers had left him feeling somewhat aimless. He didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Well,” Vynessa said, breaking the silence, “I thought about what you said. If I can beat a bronze Master, then I can be in the bronze level.”

  He watched as she reached into her pack, pulling out a small parchment and handing it to him. “This just came in, and I think it’s perfect,” she said.

  Ryan took the parchment from her, his fingers brushing against hers for just a moment. At first glance, it seemed to be a recruitment message, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. But as his eyes moved over the symbol. A crown of iron and the pickaxe. The symbol of Ironmire.

  The Platinum Blademaster Darrion of Ironmire is looking for Bronze adventurers for a dangerous quest. Prospective adventurers are to come to Newvale for recruitment.

  Platinum Blademaster Darrion. He had heard the name in whispers from Master Terrance and Grent, his swordsmanship was unmatched, his deeds uncountable.

  Could this be his chance to prove himself?

  Ryan’s gaze shot to Vynessa, the fire in her eyes matching the one that had always burned within him. She had always been focused, determined, but now she looked almost eager for what this opportunity represented.

  “You think this is it?” Ryan asked.

  “I do. It’s a chance to prove myself. To see if I really belong here.”

  Ryan stood silent for a moment, his fingers still resting on the parchment.

  “Let’s do it,” Ryan said. “Let’s prove we belong.”

  ******