Over a thousand cultivators had gathered at the centre of the Veridian Realm, huddled together in the ruins of ancient palace. Crumbling walls of white marble rose round the, adorned with faded murals depicting scenes of alchemical triumphs. Broken pillars jutted from the ground like the teeth of some massive beast, while the remnants of a once-magnificent dome allowed the artificial stars down upon the frightened crowd.

  The atmosphere was thick with tension.

  Earlier competition and hostility had given way to uneasy alliances as cultivators from rival factions stood shoulder to shoulder. Their eyes fixed on the advancing wall of black fog. Dozens of lives already claimed by it.

  'We're trapped.'

  'Completely and utterly trapped.' Whispered another voice in the crowd.

  Captain Lyrawyn stood atop a fallen pillar, her eyes surveying the both the assembled cultivators and the encroaching darkness. The elven warrior's face remained composed, though those who knew her well could detect the slight tension in her jaw-- the only outward sign of her concern.

  'Captain!' called one of her disciples, pushing through the crowd. 'The other cultivators suggest we pool our Mana together to create a barrier. If we can hold out long enough, perhaps the fog will dissipate.'

  Lyrawyn shook her head: 'A barrier would be ineffective. Reports indicate the fog neutralises Mana on contact. We would only exhaust ourselves faster.'

  'Then we must contact the real world!' urged another disciple. 'Surely they could—'

  'There is no way to send messages out of this realm,' Lyrawyn interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. 'And even if there were, no reinforcements could reach us in time. The entrance is sealed by the fog.'

  Her blunt assessment sent ripples of fear through the crowd. Cultivators who had spent decades, even centuries, building their power now faced the prospect of death with no recourse, no escape, and precious little hope.

  Among the crowd, the Dwarven Twins, Thrainar and Bromlin, stood with their hammers planted firmly on the ground, their expressions grim beneath their intricately braided beards.

  'Never thought I'd die alongside a bunch of pointy ears,' Thrainar muttered.

  'What about alongside friends?' his brother replied with a dark chuckle.

  Thrainar spat on the ground. 'Let's not get carried away.'

  Their gruff exchange drew nervous laughter from those nearby—a brief respite from the crushing dread.

  A commotion at the edge of the ruins drew attention as a new group arrived, led by a tall bronze skinned elven male with autumn-coloured hair and armour etched with leaf patterns. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he carried himself with the unmistakable dignity of elven nobility.

  'Zaloryn Zephyrwood,' Lyrawyn acknowledged with a slight nod. 'I'm relieved to see you survived.'

  Zaloryn's expression was haunted: 'The elders who accompanied me didn't. They attempted to break through the fog with a combined technique. It... it consumed them in seconds. Their screams...' He shook his head, unable to continue.

  Whispers swept through the crowd at this news. If even elven elders couldn't penetrate the fog, what hope did any of them have?

  'And what of Lord Argent?' Lyrawyn asked, referring to the leader of their expedition.

  'Missing,' Zaloryn replied grimly. 'Last seen near the eastern jungle where the fog first appeared.'

  ***

  Miles away, Tavalor strolled leisurely through a grove of trees with bark like polished obsidian. Little Shadow perched on his shoulder, occasionally stretching out to investigate interesting flowers or insects that crossed their path.

  'The black gas is rather fascinating, isn't it?' Tavalor mused, watching as tendrils of the deadly fog crept between the trees ahead. 'From the panic I'm sensing, it seems to be quite lethal to most cultivators.'

  Little Shadow chirped, its violet eyes fixed on the approaching darkness.

  Tavalor extended a finger, allowing a wisp of the black fog to curl around it. The mist seemed to attack his skin eagerly, only to dissipate harmlessly on contact with his [Ancient Scales].

  'Dissolution properties, but primarily aimed at spirit energy or Mana depending,' he observed with academic interest. 'Clever design.'

  He stretched his senses outward, locating the massive gathering of cultivators at the realm's centre. Among them, he detected Captain Lyrawyn's energy signature.

  'I suppose we should join the others,' he said to Little Shadow. 'Everything appears to be reaching the finale.'

  Without further delay, Tavalor rose into the air, his form cutting through the sky with casual grace as he sped toward the ruined palace.

  ***

  Back at the ruins, the cultivators watched in tense silence as the black fog advanced to to the very edge of the ancient palace grounds—and then, inexplicably, stopped.

  For several minutes, no one dared to speak, afraid that any sound might trigger the fog's continued advance. Finally, Lady Feng stepped forward, her jade hairpin glowing faintly as she analysed the phenomenon.

  'It's holding at the boundary,' she announced, her delicate features set in concentration. 'There appears to be some form of ancient ward integrated into the palace foundations.'

  A murmur of cautious hope spread through the crowd.

  'So we're safe here?' someone called out.

  'For the moment,' Lady Feng replied carefully. 'Whether the wards will hold indefinitely is unclear.'

  'Perhaps the fog is temporary,' suggested a cultivator from the Jade Court. 'If we can outlast it—'

  His words were cut short by a commotion as Huvian Hunicus pushed through the crowd, his wolf-shaped helmet tucked under one arm, revealing a face contorted with anger. His gaze was fixed on a point near the edge of the ruins, where Tavalor had just landed gracefully.

  'YOU!' Huvian bellowed, drawing his longsword in a single fluid motion. 'The thief who stole my Blood Spirit Fruit tree!'

  Without waiting for a response, he charged, his silver armour gleaming in the artificial starlight as he brought his sword down in a powerful overhead strike aimed at Tavalor's head.

  The blow never landed.

  There was a flash of movement, and suddenly Captain Lyrawyn stood between them, her elven blade deflecting Huvian's sword with precision. The force of the parry sent Huvian staggering back, a thin line of blood appearing across his cheek where the tip of Lyrawyn's weapon had caught him.

  'Enough!' Lyrawyn commanded, her voice cutting through the tension. 'We face a common threat. This is no time for petty grievances.'

  Huvian touched the blood on his face, his expression darkening. 'You dare defend this thief? Do you know what he stole? That tree was worth a fortune!'

  'I know that he is an ally,' Lyrawyn replied coldly, 'and that you are a fool who would start a battle while death itself surrounds us.'

  She stepped closer to Huvian, her blade still raised. 'Listen carefully. Tavalor is under my protection. If you or anyone else wishes to challenge him, you will answer to me first. And I promise you, the fog will seem merciful by comparison.'

  The threat hung in the air, its weight amplified by Lyrawyn's reputation as one of the finest blades among the elven realms. Huvian hesitated, his pride warring with self-preservation.

  Finally, he sheathed his sword with a sharp gesture. 'This isn't over,' he spat before turning away.

  At the edge of the crowd, several robed figures watched the exchange with narrow eyes. They were elders of the Solarinius family, who had helped the wounded Tiberius retreat to the relative safety of the ruins earlier.

  They recognized Tavalor immediately, but after witnessing Lyrawyn's intervention, they held themselves in check, exchanging meaningful glances that promised retribution at a more opportune moment.

  Tavalor, for his part, seemed almost oblivious to the confrontation, his attention focused on the wall of black fog that surrounded the ruins.

  'Fascinating,' he remarked as Lyrawyn approached him. 'This fog actually kills people?'

  Lyrawyn stared at him incredulously. 'It's consumed dozens of cultivators already. Even defensive [B-Class] artefacts cannot withstand it.'

  'Hm,' Tavalor replied, absently scratching Little Shadow under what might have been its chin. 'Rather excessive, don't you think?'

  Before Lyrawyn could respond, the entire realm shuddered violently. The ground beneath their feet cracked, and several of the remaining pillars collapsed, forcing cultivators to scatter to avoid being crushed.

  A low, rumbling laugh emanated from the fog itself, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

  'How entertaining,' boomed a voice that reverberated through the very air. 'Such powerful cultivators, reduced to cowering in the ruins of my palace.'

  The black fog outside the ruins began to coalesce, forming an enormous face that loomed over the palace. Its features were those of a middle-aged human male, with a high forehead, aquiline nose, and eyes that burned with malevolent intelligence.

  'By the Two Moons,' gasped Lady Feng, 'it cannot be...'

  An elder from the Jade Court stepped forward, his face pale with shock. 'Veridian? Impossible! You perished centuries ago!'

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  The massive face smiled, an expression devoid of warmth. 'Did I? How... presumptuous of history to declare me dead without my consent.'

  The entity that called itself Veridian surveyed the assembled cultivators, its gaze lingering momentarily on the representatives from Imperium Solara.

  'I see the Imperial bloodline endures. How tiresome. Your ancestors were equally bothersome when they attempted to dictate the boundaries of acceptable research. Tell me, do they still execute alchemists who dabble in unacceptableresearch?'

  The Solaran elders stiffened but remained silent, unwilling to engage with the entity.

  Veridian continued, seemingly amused by their discomfort. 'No matter. Soon, none of you will remain to enforce such tedious restrictions.'

  Tavalor stepped forward, his posture relaxed despite the overwhelming [A-Class] level pressure emanating from the gigantic face.

  Veridian's attention shifted to Tavalor, the fog swirling more intensely around his face. 'Ah, you grasp the elegance of my design. Yes, a millennium of preparation for this moment. The entrance was sealed until sufficient spirit energy had accumulated in the outside world. Then—like a flower opening to attract bees—my realm revealed itself, beckoning the strongest cultivators with promises of treasure.'

  'But why?' Lady Feng asked, her scholarly curiosity momentarily overriding her fear. 'What purpose does this serve?'

  The face stretched into a grotesque smile. 'Sustenance, my dear. Pure and simple. Each of you represents decades, centuries even, of concentrated spirit energy. Energy that I shall consume to extend my existence indefinitely.'

  A cultivator from a minor sect fell to his knees. 'You're... you're going to eat us?'

  'Crudely put, but accurate,' Veridian confirmed. 'Your essence will fuel my ascension to true immortality.'

  Tavalor shook his head, a look of genuine disappointment crossing his features. 'Cultivation theft. How depressingly unoriginal.'

  Little Shadow chirped in what sounded suspiciously like agreement.

  'You dare mock me?' Veridian's voice thundered, shaking the very foundations of the ruins. 'I, who have transcended death itself?'

  'I do,' Tavalor replied simply. 'It's just such a lazy approach. As an ancient proverb says, He who seeks immortality by devouring others is like a man who drinks seawater to quench his thirst—he only hastens his own end.'

  Tavalor's thoughts turned inward momentarily. Stealing cultivation from others the stupidest method. You only collect a certain percentage of the persons full cultivation. These methods don't give you a hundred percent of their cultivation. The more powerful you get, the fewer the targets remain.Then the easy prey runs out (they’ve already stolen from weak cultivators). They have to fight stronger enemies, with higher risk. Eventually they start to attract attention from stronger predators or governing sects (karma, cosmic retribution, etc.). And you lose it all.

  It's a very inefficient, wasteful method, full of suffering. It seems like its the easy way, but truly the easy way is just an extremely hard way disguised as the easy way. The only true way to get anything is the hard way.

  'Enough philosophy!' Veridian roared. 'Your deaths are merely delayed, not prevented. The ancient wards protecting this palace will fail soon, and then...'

  The face dissolved back into formless fog, which began to condense into hundreds of tendrils that probed at the invisible barrier surrounding the ruins.

  Nearby, the Dwarven Twins readied their hammers, facing the encroaching darkness.

  A few tendrils of fog suddenly surged forward, exploiting weaknesses in the ancient wards. Two tendrils of black mist shot toward Thrainar and Bromlin with incredible speed.

  But before they could reach the dwarves, a wall of golden flame erupted between them and the fog. The black tendrils recoiled as if in pain, dissipating instantly upon contact with the fire.

  Tavalor stood with one hand extended, golden flames dancing along his fingertips. With a casual gesture, he expanded the fire, creating a ring of golden flames that surrounded the entire perimeter of the ruined palace.

  'I've heard enough,' he said, his voice carrying easily across the suddenly silent crowd. 'This charade has gone on long enough.'

  He rose into the air, the golden flames intensifying around him until he appeared to be wreathed in a small sun.

  Little Shadow detached from his shoulder, growing to the size of a large wolf as it positioned itself protectively before the assembled cultivators.

  Veridian's face reformed above the ruins, its expression twisted with rage. 'What is this? What manner of technique—'

  Tavalor's response was not verbal but physical. Moving with blinding speed, he rocketed upward, his fist trailing golden fire as it connected squarely with the centre of Veridian's foggy visage.

  The impact released a shockwave that forced cultivators to shield their eyes and brace themselves against the sudden gale. When they looked again, Veridian's face had been completely dispersed, fragments of black fog drifting away like smoke in a strong wind.

  For a moment, stunned silence reigned. Then, murmurs of disbelief and hope spread through the crowd.

  'He destroyed it?'

  'Just like that?'

  'Are we saved?'

  Their optimism was short-lived. The scattered fragments of black fog began to coalesce once more, reforming into Veridian's face—now twisted with a mixture of pain and fury.

  'Impressive,' Veridian admitted, a note of genuine surprise in his booming voice. 'Few have ever managed to harm me in this form. But you misunderstand the nature of my existence, cultivator. I have fused my soul with this mystic realm. So long as it exists, I cannot be destroyed.'

  To demonstrate his point, Veridian's foggy form expanded, drawing in more of the black mist until it shaped itself into a colossal dragon composed entirely of the deadly miasma. The construct dwarfed even the largest buildings in the ruined palace, its wingspan blotting out the artificial stars above.

  With a roar that seemed to shake the very fabric of the pocket dimension, the fog dragon lunged at Tavalor, jaws wide to engulf him completely.

  Tavalor didn't attempt to evade. He simply hovered in place, allowing the enormous jaws to close around him.

  Horrified gasps erupted from the cultivators below as Tavalor disappeared inside the fog construct.

  'No!' Lyrawyn's voice cut through the collective shock, her composure momentarily shattered.

  For a brief moment, the fog dragon seemed triumphant, its body undulating with what might have been satisfaction.

  Then, golden light began to leak through its misty scales.

  The light intensified rapidly, beams of golden flame piercing the dragon's form from within. The construct writhed in apparent agony as more and more golden fire erupted from its body.

  Finally, with a sound like a thousand thunderclaps, the fog dragon exploded from within, completely disintegrating as Tavalor emerged, entirely unharmed and surrounded by a cocoon of golden flames.

  'Impossible!' Veridian's voice had lost its confident boom, now tinged with genuine fear. 'My Poison Miasma has claimed [S-Class] experts! Nothing can withstand it!'

  Tavalor brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. 'Evidently, you're mistaken.'

  He now stood upon a cloud of golden flame, the light emanating from him so intense that some cultivators had to avert their eyes. Those who could still look directly at him saw that his form seemed to shimmer slightly, as though reality itself had trouble properly defining his existence.

  'You claim to be fused with this realm,' Tavalor called out, his voice carrying effortlessly despite the distance. 'Let's test that theory, shall we?'

  He drew back his fist, golden energy condensing around it until it glowed like a miniature sun. Then, with deliberate slowness, he punched forward. Fifty percent effort. The energy released not as a beam or projectile, but as a shockwave that rippled visibly through the air.

  When it reached Veridian's reforming face, the impact was catastrophic. The fog didn't merely disperse this time—it seemed to disintegrate at the molecular level, leaving nothing behind.

  For a full minute, nothing happened. The black fog surrounding the ruins remained motionless, as if shocked into stillness.

  Then, gradually, Veridian's face began to reform, but the process was slow and clearly strained. The features, when they finally solidified, were distorted and unstable.

  'What... what are you?' Veridian demanded, his voice no longer booming but ragged and uncertain.

  'Someone who dislikes scammers,' Tavalor replied casually. 'Especially those who trap innocent cultivators for their own selfish ends.'

  Veridian's foggy face twitched with rage. 'It doesn't matter! As I said, I am fused with this realm. So long as it exists, I cannot be truly destroyed!'

  'Is that so?' Tavalor's expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration. 'Well, that simplifies matters considerably.'

  He raised both hands above his head, a sphere of golden energy forming between them. Unlike his previous attacks, this energy didn't blaze with fire but pulsed with a deep, resonant power that seemed to reach into the fabric of reality itself.

  'If you are truly one with this realm,' Tavalor announced, 'then the solution is obvious. I'll simply destroy the entire realm along with you.'

  Panic erupted among the cultivators below.

  'Destroy the realm?'

  'We'll die too!'

  'Is he mad?'

  Veridian's face contorted with malicious glee. 'Yes! Destroy it if you can! You'll only succeed in killing everyone trapped here—including yourself!'

  Tavalor smiled, the expression serene yet somehow more terrifying than Veridian's rage could ever be.

  'Who said anything about being trapped?'

  With a swift gesture, he sent the golden sphere hurtling toward the ground. Instead of striking the earth, however, it expanded rapidly, engulfing the entire ruined palace and all the cultivators within it.

  For those caught in the golden light, the sensation was strange—like being simultaneously everywhere and nowhere. Their vision blurred, reality itself seeming to fold around them.

  'NO!' Veridian's scream echoed through the disintegrating realm as he realised what was happening. 'YOU CANNOT—'

  But Tavalor could, and did.

  With a final, earth-shattering blow, he struck the very centre of the Veridian Realm. Golden cracks spread outward from the impact point, racing across the landscape, up the mountains, through the forests, even into the artificial sky above.

  The entire pocket dimension began to collapse in on itself, the boundaries between spaces breaking down as the golden cracks expanded.

  ***

  Outside Black Mountain Town, cultivators who had been watching the entrance to the Veridian Realm were startled by a sudden phenomenon.

  The air shimmered, and with a sound like tearing fabric, over a thousand people materialized on a nearby mountain top—the entirety of those who had been trapped within the realm.

  Confusion reigned as the disoriented cultivators tried to understand what had happened.

  One moment they had been facing certain death in a collapsing pocket dimension; the next, they were standing under the actual sun, breathing real air, completely unharmed.

  Behind them, the entrance to the Veridian Realm trembled violently. Golden light leaked through the shimmering tear in reality, growing more intense by the second.

  With a sound that seemed to contain all the world's breaking glass, the spatial passage imploded. Sucking everything into itself like a black hole.

  The light flared blindingly bright for an instant, then vanished completely, leaving nothing but empty air where the entrance had been.

  In the final moment before the passage sealed itself forever, a single figure emerged—Tavalor, his form briefly outlined in golden fire before he disappeared with deliberate casualness into the crowd.

  The cultivators who had been rescued stood in stunned silence, trying to process what they had witnessed. Gradually, whispers began to spread.

  'Did you see him?'

  'The one who defeated Veridian?'

  'It's the same expert who defeated the Chitari during the fiend beast invasion!'

  'It's him. It's really him. I truly remember him!'

  'Who is he?'

  Captain Lyrawyn, surrounded by her team, maintained a carefully neutral expression as curious cultivators approached her with questions.

  Captain, you spoke with him. Who is he really?'

  Lyrawyn shrugged, the gesture deliberately casual. 'Just an old friend with unusual talents. Nothing more.'

  Her team, following her lead, revealed nothing despite the barrage of questions. The truth—that they had witnessed power beyond their comprehension—was something they instinctively understood should remain hidden.

  ***

  Miles away, in a secluded forest clearing, Tavalor sat cross-legged beneath an ancient oak tree. Little Shadow curled contentedly in his lap, occasionally chirping as it played with a small sphere of black light that hovered between Tavalor's palms.

  The sphere was a compressed fireball. Tavalor had wrapper layer after layer of fire. An impregnable fortress to most people. Within the sphere, a miniature version of Veridian's face pressed against the barrier, mouth open in a silent scream of rage.

  'You're fortunate I didn't simply obliterate you,' Tavalor told the trapped essence soul conversationally. 'A thousand years of planning, all that meticulous preparation, and for what? A flawed approach to immortality that was doomed from the start.'

  He held the sphere up to eye level, examining the captured soul with academic interest.

  'Still, your work on pocket dimensions was genuinely impressive. Few have achieved that level of spatial manipulation. It would be a waste to let such knowledge disappear entirely.'

  Little Shadow chirped questioningly, poking at the sphere with a tendril of darkness.

  'Oh, I have plans for our friend here,' Tavalor assured the shadow creature. 'There are certain techniques I've been trying to work out, and having a volunteer test subject, I mean expert will be very helpful.'

  The soul within the sphere redoubled its silent protests, its tiny features contorting with terror.

  Tavalor smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes. 'Don't worry, Veridian. Unlike you, I don't need to consume others to grow stronger. I'll keep you alive. Consider it payment for the Spirit Wine I salvaged from your realm.'

  With a casual gesture, he stored the soul sphere in his [system space] and rose to his feet, stretching leisurely.

  'Well,' he said to Little Shadow, who had resumed its perch on his shoulder, 'that was an interesting diversion. Shall we head back to Vallenport? We've had enough excitement for a while.'

  Little Shadow chirped in agreement, and together they strolled deeper into the forest, leaving behind the chaos and confusion of Ark Town, where cultivators were still trying to make sense of their miraculous rescue and the identity of the mysterious expert who had saved them all.