The crimson sword connected with the massive gate, sending vibrations up my arms. A sh of scarlet light exploded on impact. For a breathtaking moment, I thought it might work—the gate would shatter, and I''d finally be free.


    But when the light faded, I saw only a shallow mark on the ancient stone.


    "No..." I whispered, staring at the barely-there scratch.


    I struck again, harder this time. Again. And again. Each blownded with tremendous force, yet aplished almost nothing against the unyielding barrier. Small chips of stone fell away, but the gate remained intact.


    Sweat poured down my face. My muscles screamed in protest. I''d poured everything I had into forging this crimson de, and even it wasn''t enough.


    "Damn it!" I roared, summoning thest reserves of my spiritual energy.


    I activated the Nine shes technique—one of the most powerful sword arts I possessed. My de moved in blinding arcs, leaving trails of crimson light as I executed theplex pattern. Each sh was meant to build upon the previous one, amplifying its power.


    One. Two. Three strikesnded.


    My breathing grewbored, but I pushed on.


    Four. Five. Six.


    Blood trickled from my nose. The technique was draining me beyond my limits.


    Seven. Eight.


    My vision blurred. The crimson sword felt heavier with each swing.


    Nine.


    The final sh connected with a thunderous crack. The impact reverberated throughout the chamber, dislodging dust from the ceiling. For a second, a spiderweb of cracks appeared across the gate''s surface.


    Hope surged—then died just as quickly.


    The cracks sealed themselves, the stone flowing like water before hardening once more. The gate had repaired itself, leaving only a slightly deeper mark than before.


    My knees hit the stone floor. The crimson sword ttered beside me.


    "Impossible," I gasped, struggling to stay conscious.


    I''d thrown everything I had at this barrier—my strength, my skills, my newly forged weapon. And it hadn''t been enough. Not even close.


    The realization crushed me more thoroughly than any physical blow. I was truly trapped. No way out. No way to return to Isabelle or fulfill my promises.


    I slumped against the cold stone, my back to the unyielding gate. The crimson swordy beside me, its glow dimmed as if sharing my defeat.


    "I''m sorry, Isabelle," I whispered to the empty air. "I tried. God knows I tried." <var ss="story-note-vis">Tеxt асquirеd frоm М|V|LЕМР&YR.</var>


    How long had I been trapped in this forsaken ce? Weeks? Months? With no sun or moon to mark the passage of time, I''d lost track. Long enough that the outside world probably thought I was dead.


    Maybe that was better. At least Isabelle might move on, rather than waiting for a man who would never return.


    My head fell into my hands. For the first time since awakening my powers, I felt utterly helpless. Not even my cultivation, not even my will to survive seemed enough against the ancient magic that held this ce closed.


    "I can''t die here," I muttered, but the words rang hollow. What choice did I have?


    My supplies were gone. My energy was depleted. Even if I recovered my strength, what would I try next? There was nothing left to try.


    The silence of the tomb-like sect pressed in around me, broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing. I was alone. Completely and utterly alone.


    A sob escaped my throat—the first I''d allowed myself since being trapped. Once it started, I couldn''t stop. Years of built-up tension, fear, and determination crumbled as I faced the reality of my situation.


    "I''m never getting out of here," I whispered between broken breaths.


    The words hung in the stale air, a death sentence pronounced by my own lips.


    Then something impossible happened.


    A faint humming sound filled the chamber, growing louder with each passing second. I lifted my head, blinking away tears. The air twenty feet in front of me began to shimmer and distort.


    I scrambled to my feet, grabbing the crimson sword. Was this some new trial? Some ancient guardian awakening to finish me off?


    The distortion grew, twisting the very fabric of space until it tore open—a ck hole suspended in midair.


    I raised my sword, ready to face whatever emerged. After everything, I wouldn''t die without a fight.


    A foot appeared from the darkness—then a leg, a torso, and finally a familiar face framed by an absurdly well-groomed mustache.


    "My, my! What a dreadful ce!" dered The Man with the Mustache, dusting off his immacte clothes as he fully emerged from the spatial tear.


    I stood frozen, convinced I was hallucinating.


    "Ah, Liam Knight! There you are!" he eximed, spotting me. "You look absolutely terrible, my boy."


    "You..." I couldn''t form a coherent sentence. "How...?"


    "How did I get in?" He twirled his mustache proudly. "Spatial array, of course! Took me ages to set up. Over a month, if you can believe it! Quite the achievement, even for someone of my talents."


    A month. I''d been trapped here for over a month.


    "You came to rescue me?" I asked, still struggling to believe he was real.


    Heughed—that familiar, slightly pompousugh that I never thought I''d be so happy to hear.


    "Rescue you? Oh no, no. I came for treasure! The Immortal Bane Sect is rumored to contain artifacts of immeasurable value." His eyes gleamed with avarice. "Finding you is merely a... fortunate coincidence."


    Of course. I should have known. The Man with the Mustache never did anything purely out of kindness.


    Still, I couldn''t help but smile. "Fortunate for me, at least."


    "Indeed!" He nced around the chamber with undisguised interest. "So, have you found anything worthwhile in this dreary ce? Any ancient treasures? Magical weapons? Forbidden scrolls?"


    I gestured weakly toward the crimson sword. "Just this. I forged it from fragments I found scattered throughout the sect."


    He snatched the sword from my hand without asking, examining it with a critical eye.


    "Hmm, decent work for an amateur," he said dismissively. "But nothingpared to what must be hidden in the deeper levels. No, I seek aplete mighty realm weapon! Can you imagine? With such power, even the Veridia City Martial Guild would think twice before challenging me!"


    I was too exhausted and relieved to be offended by his casual dismissal of my creation.


    "The gate won''t open," I told him, pointing at the massive barrier behind me. "I''ve tried everything."


    "This?" He barely nced at it. "A minor obstacle, I assure you. But we won''t be leaving just yet. Not until I''ve found what I came for."


    His confidence was either delusional or based on knowledge I didn''t possess. Knowing him, probably both.


    "The aristocratic families, the Martial Guild—they all think they''re so powerful," he continued, excitement building in his voice. "But with a true mighty realm weapon? Ha! I''d like to see them try to bully me then!"


    I stared at him, torn between hope and exasperation. The Man with the Mustache was here—my unexpected lifeline. But instead of escape, he was proposing a treasure hunt in a ce I''d been desperate to leave.


    "Are youing?" he asked, already walking toward a corridor I hadn''t yet explored. "I could use someone to watch my back while I search. There are bound to be traps."


    Of course there would be. There always were with him.


    I sighed, picking up my crimson sword. What choice did I have? The Man with the Mustache was my only way out, and if following him on another dangerous treasure hunt was the price of freedom, I would pay it.


    "Wait up," I called, hurrying after his retreating form.


    As I followed him into the unknown depths of the Immortal Bane Sect, I couldn''t decide whether to thank whatever fate had sent him here or curse it. One thing was certain—my istion was over, but the danger was just beginning.