“Yin Tian…?” The voice in his mind was a mere shadow of a whisper.

  Out of nowhere, the world flickered in front of his eyes, and Cade found himself floating in blackness. The sensation was so palpable, it felt like being submerged in cold, thick oil. Not a single sound broke through this impenetrable veil around him.

  And then he was suddenly able to hear once again.

  Faint at first, the sound began to rise in volume, a deep, resonant drumming that eventually filled him up entirely. He was at the center of the darkness, now a mere backdrop for the steady, unmistakable beat of his voracious heart.

  Thump. Thump.

  All of a sudden, a small light appeared in the distance—a bright beacon within the endless night. The light began to grow in size, and all around Cade, more tiny, glowing dots began to emerge. Soon, millions of luminous pinpricks surrounded him, and the small light ahead grew to an inconceivable size. It became a huge, fiery ball of white radiance, so brilliant he didn’t dare look at it directly. And yet, he was unable to pull himself away.

  Unexpectedly, his point of view shifted. He was now looking at the back of a sturdy male figure floating in the darkness of space. The man had a long mane of thick golden hair and was dressed in a scarlet longcoat, similar to his own. In fact, it was nearly identical.

  Cade’s point of view switched once more, and he realized he was now looking through the eyes of the enigmatic, and yet somehow familiar figure. In front of him was a huge, reddish globe, and he knew this was a planet. But it wasn’t anything like what Gorgo had described. There were no oceans, no green continents in sight. It was all just many shades of brown and red, a lifeless world baked dry by the remorseless heat of its star.

  He had no idea where or when this knowledge came to him. It was inside his mind, and yet it was not, as if he had cracked a cosmic door and taken a careful peek beyond. He tried glancing around but quickly realized he wasn’t in control of his actions. Cade could feel the furious blaze emitted by the distant, bright star spread all over his back, and yet—it didn’t hurt. If anything, the warmth offered comfort. He felt as if he wasn’t floating in the vastness of space, colder than a frozen grave, but rather standing outside his home in Springwine on a warm summer day.

  Suddenly, his arm moved—pale skin on the back of his hand, sharp, black fingernails—all familiar. And there was a red band, similar to his own and placed on the same index finger for easy access. A calloused thumb traced the ring, and a gorgeous silver sword materialized in his grip. The six-foot-long blade shone like a ray of frozen sunlight as it reflected the star’s overwhelming radiance.

  Cade knew little about swords, and yet when he gazed upon the weapon, he understood it. Not just what it was, but its essence, the function it served, as if he were the one who had made it. It was a soul repository, an ancient Asura weapon no ordinary human could ever touch without having their soul harvested by its ever-thirsting nature. The soul-devouring sword had a pommel shaped into a snarling dragon's head the size of a small fist. The narrow double-edged blade had a flattened-diamond cross-section and was no more than three inches wide. As Cade focused his eyes on the sword’s surface, he saw it was engraved with thousands of marks, each a minuscule figure, detailed beyond anything a human craftsman could ever hope to achieve. The figures on the blade moved chaotically—some wailed, some shook from anger, screaming at him with hateful expressions; others just stared blankly, drowning in despair.

  But it wasn’t the figures populating the blade that attracted his attention. It was an eye, set dead center in its straight guard. It had no eyelashes, but every other detail was present, carved with immaculate precision in the silver metal, including the skin folds. Slight wrinkles surrounded it, which faded into the guard, creating the illusion of the eye emerging from within the weapon. It felt so real he imagined it would open at any moment. Yet, the eye remained closed. This sword was the most beautifully crafted object Cade had ever seen.

  “I’m afraid you won’t be eating much today, Legion.” It was neither a voice nor a thought. It resounded through his realm of consciousness, and all Cade knew was that it belonged to him—or rather, the form he currently embodied.

  “Hehe. It’s fine, Master Yin Tian. Besides, I'm quite full at the moment, all thanks to Master's hard work,” a metallic voice responded, chuckling quietly. There was a slight echo to it, as if it were coming from the bottom of a shallow, steel-plated well.

  “I suppose that’s true,” Yin Tian said with a nod. “The Daeva are pushing their luck. Building an automated shipyard capable of producing Class III Eyes of Ruin this close to Asura space… did they really think I’d let it happen?” His words carried a dangerous edge.

  “They’re testing Master's boundaries. Why else would they build orbital siege platforms? After what happened on Teraxis, that’s like a slap in the face to Master's kind. If they had asked me, I’d have told them how stupid that was. Alas, nobody did,” the spirit answered with mild disappointment.

  “Mhm. Oh well. Follow my lead.”

  His arm lifted the shining sword above his head, and then the blade fell down in one smooth motion. From the outside, there didn’t appear to be anything spectacular to the deceptively lazy gesture—no flashing lights, no rumbling, only a surge of energy poured through the blade.

  Then a vast, prismatic arc blinked in and out of existence, carving the planet in half. Where it struck, the foundational laws of reality simply vanished, as if the forces holding everything together had been cut away. But the universe craved balance—where the laws had been reduced to nothing, the scales tipped wildly in the other direction. Those immense forces surged back, magnified a thousandfold, as the fabric of existence overcorrected. The planet crumpled in on itself like a paper doll inside a clenched fist. Rock vaporized, and the molten core flared, collapsing into a seething, half-sized mass that burned brighter than ever—a newborn star left in the aftermath of divine correction.

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  Even if Cade could speak, he wouldn’t have dared to utter a word. There was no avoiding this attack. It was inevitable. There was no delay, no warning; the arc didn’t travel—it simply appeared, and then it was all over. The cataclysmic power hidden behind it was something his mind struggled to comprehend. Nevertheless, he etched it deep into his memory. What truly shocked him was that the trickle of energy he, or rather Yin Tian, had used was drawn directly from his prismatic spherules. He had them too.

  “Hehehe. Very nice!” the sword spirit chortled with satisfaction. “Simple to learn, hard to master—a hallmark of a good technique. Does it have a name?”

  “I called it Law Severing Art,” Yin Tian nodded. "I suppose a field test was long due."

  Then everything went black.

  Cade woke up lying on the dark stone in front of a pile of damaged swords, saliva dripping from his open mouth. His ears were ringing, and he had a pounding migraine, something he had rarely experienced since being reborn. Random, jumbled bits of information popped up out of nowhere in his mind, things he didn’t recall ever learning. He quickly channeled more blood qi into his brain, but this time it didn’t seem to alleviate the pain. Concerned, he immediately entered his realm of consciousness, only to find the faint outline of a beautiful silver sword, floating above the endless sea of crimson fog.

  “Legion…?” he asked with slight hesitation, unsure if the spirit could hear him.

  “Forgive my confusion. You too are an Asura, but now I can sense you’re not him,” the spirit sighed. “This was my one and only memory of Master Yin Tian. I have now passed it onto you. Other than my name, I’ve forgotten nearly everything else. But at least I haven’t failed in my duty.” The sword continued in its characteristic metallic voice, which sounded very weak. In his memory, Legion had sounded strong and confident. This poor, dying spirit was a mere shadow of its former self.

  “Who is Yin Tian? What’s his connection to me?” He had so many questions that needed answering. Recalling the figure from memory, he felt the weight of the uncountable millennia it carried.

  “He was my previous Master. I’m sorry… all I knew, I’ve passed on to you. Search the memory; there must be a reason why he told me to guard it at all cost,” Legion said weakly, its voice growing quieter and more distant with each word.

  “Alright, forget about it for now. Tell me, how can I help you?” Cade knew he had to rescue the weapon and its spirit no matter what. This wasn’t just an artifact precious beyond imagination; this was his only link to someone who also possessed prismatic spherules. And that person was an Asura no less.

  “I am too weak to consume soul qi on my own. What you’re seeing in your realm of consciousness is only my projection, an avatar, and it’s rapidly depleting the little energy I have left. If you truly wish to help, you need to claim my body, then allow me to establish a direct connection with your soul. It should allow me to passively absorb some of your soul qi. I only need a tiny bit,” the spirit sounded desperate.

  “Hold on, I’m on it.” Cade stood up, his knees shaking slightly, but this time, channeling blood qi strengthened him immediately. He unleashed his life sense and immediately found the spirit’s signature. It was barely holding on.

  He leaped towards the pile of swords, which was nearly as tall as him, and dug into it, unceremoniously throwing aside all sorts of ancient, damaged weapons. Finally, after discarding what must have been over two hundred blades, he saw the sword. It was unmistakable due to its length and the humanlike eye sculpted into its guard. Sadly, it was in a pathetic state. Cade’s shoulders sagged. The leather covering the hilt was long gone, leaving nothing but a rough, skeletal grip. From the pommel to the tip, the sword was covered in flakes of black rust. The frozen ray of starlight from his memory was gone, the haunting engravings on its blade erased. The weapon’s surface now resembled old, weathered darksteel.

  “Take me into your hand and help me connect to your soul. Transferring the memory exhausted me. I don’t have much time left,” Legion’s voice was barely audible.

  Cade grabbed the weapon by its rusty grip without hesitation and instantly sensed the feeble presence within. It was asking to be let inside the core of his being. The Asura didn’t know if letting it establish a connection to his soul presented any risks. He could only trust in the memory of Yin Tian, in which his soul and the sword spirit were definitely joined. Going against all his instincts, Cade clenched his teeth and forced away the ethereal barrier protecting the core of his being.

  He instantly felt the presence of the spirit touch his inner self. It was helpless, like a newborn babe. The sensation was difficult to describe, but it didn’t feel wrong. He could now also sense that Legion was in constant pain. It was a gnawing, consuming ache caused by ages-long starvation. Cade couldn’t even begin to imagine suffering like this for who knew how many thousands of years, all to preserve one memory. This kind of dedication wasn’t just precious; it was a miracle of loyalty.

  He allowed a trickle of his soul qi to drip towards Legion’s projection in his realm of consciousness. The amount was tiny, but he was incapable of mobilizing more. His realm was far too low. And even though he didn’t feel anything—so meager was this expense—to the frail spirit, it was a true lifeline.

  “Thank you, young Asura. For saving my life. Now that our souls are linked, you’re my new Master. I will never forget this kindness. I apologize for being useless for a while; staying conscious uses up more energy than I can absorb from you in my current state. I need to sleep and regain some strength, then I will be able to feed off external qi once again.” Legion seemed to have at least somehow stabilized, which was a step in the right direction.

  “Don’t worry about it, just focus on recovering.”

  The old spirit was right; the memory was layered with context, though it was still all jumbled in his head. One piece of information that was fairly easy to discern concerned his red ring. It was a life band, a type of storage space capable of holding all types of life qi. Unlike ordinary storage rings, it had a special compartment for holding spirit artifacts. It would allow Legion to grow stronger without severing its nurturing connection with Cade’s soul.

  After placing Legion inside the ring and ensuring that the spirit was still recovering, the Asura exhaled in relief, finally allowing himself to relax. He then hurriedly cleaned up the corridor, collecting the broken weapons to rebuild the pile. Taking a final look around, he nodded to himself with satisfaction. Other than some missing dust, everything appeared in order.

  As he was about to leave, he heard someone banging on the entrance gate. Checking his timekeeper, he realized he had spent nearly half an hour inside the Hall. Most people took five minutes at the most. Cade grimaced; his head was pounding.

  It seemed someone wasn’t too happy about him spending so much time inside. Sensing rising irritation, he took a controlled breath, then walked towards the exit and pushed on the reinforced door.

  “Fucking peasant! Who do you—”