Dragging my broken body through the shadows of Veridia City felt like walking through hell itself. Each step was agony, the exposed bones in my back grinding against one another with every movement. Blood continued to seep from my wound, leaving a trail I couldn''t afford to leave.


    "This is insanity," the Man with the Mustache muttered beside me, his eyes constantly darting around for pursuers. "You should be dead ten times over. Your stubbornness is the only thing keeping you alive."


    I managed a weak smile. "Then I''ll stay stubborn."


    "We still need one more material," he said, tugging nervously at his facial hair. "The ancient text was specific—we need essence of silver lotus, crushed dragon scale, ck winter root, and..." he hesitated.


    "And?" I pressed.


    "Blood from someone with your... unique physique." He looked at me apologetically. "Without it, the protective ward won''t hold in the Withered Lands. You''ll die within hours."


    I leaned against a wall, my vision swimming. "My blood?"


    "Fresh blood, mixed with the other ingredients at the boundary itself." He peered at my ghostly pale face. "But in your condition, losing any more blood would kill you."


    The cold reality settled over me. Even this desperate escape n was falling apart.


    "I need a week," I finally said. "One week to recover enough strength. Then I''ll apany you to gather whatever we need."


    He nodded reluctantly. "I can hide you somewhere safe until then. The Guild won''t think to look—"


    "No," I cut him off. "I have other arrangements to make first."


    His eyes widened. "You can''t be serious! You can barely stand!"


    I pushed myself away from the wall, nearly copsing as I did. "Go prepare everything else. I''ll meet you in one week at the arranged location."


    "Knight, this is madness—"


    "One week," I repeated firmly, already shuffling away.


    The journey to Emerson Holmes''s residence took twice as long as it should have. By the time I arrived, the eastern sky was lightening with the first hints of dawn. I slipped through his garden like a wraith, leaving bloody handprints on his pristine white walls.


    When I reached his window, I tapped weakly. Once, twice.


    The window flew open almost immediately, Emerson''s sleep-disheveled face appearing. His eyes widened in shock.


    "Liam?" he hissed. "Are you insane? The entire Guild is hunting for you!"


    "Let me in," I whispered. "Quickly."


    He helped me through the window, suppressing a gasp when he saw my back. "By the gods, Liam. What happened to you?"


    "Bancroft''s Prajna Ruler," I managed, copsing onto his floor. "Emerson, I need your help."


    He quickly secured the room, drawing curtains and activating a sound barrier formation before kneeling beside me.


    "You shouldn''t be here," he said, examining my wound with horror. "This is..." he swallowed hard. "This is beyond my ability to heal."


    "I''m not here for healing," I replied, my voice stronger than I felt. "I have a proposition."


    Emerson''s expression grew wary. "What kind of proposition?"


    I met his eyes steadily. "I want you to capture me and hand me over to the Veridia City Martial Guild."


    Silence stretched between us as he processed my words. Then heughed—a short, disbelieving sound.


    "You''ve lost too much blood," he said tly. "You''re delirious."


    "I''m perfectly lucid," I countered. "Think about it, Emerson. Your position in the Guild is precarious since you helped me before. Delivering me to them would restore your standing, maybe even earn you a promotion."


    Emerson stared at me, his face unreadable. "You realize what they''ll do to you? After what you did to their academy?"


    I nodded slowly. "I do."


    "Then why?" he demanded. "Why surrender now, after everything?"


    I coughed, spitting blood onto his expensive carpet. "Because if I don''t, they''ll torture Isabelle to draw me out. They know I''lle for her eventually."


    Understanding dawned in his eyes. "You''re sacrificing yourself for her."


    "No," I corrected him. "I''m buying time. The Guild thinks I''m their biggest threat, but they don''t understand what''s really happening. There are forces at work beyond theirprehension." <var ss="in-imprint-b">Visit My Virtual Library Empire (*) for more.</var>


    Emerson ran a hand through his hair, visibly conflicted. "And what exactly am I supposed to tell them? That you just wandered into my home and surrendered?"


    "Tell them you found me hiding, severely wounded. You overpowered me easily." I grimaced as a fresh wave of pain washed over me. "It won''t be hard to believe."


    He paced the room, agitated. "This is suicide, Liam. You know that, right? They''ll execute you publicly. Make an example of you."


    "They''ll try," I agreed.


    Something in my tone made him pause. He studied my face intently. "You have another n."


    It wasn''t a question, but I nodded anyway. "I always have another n."


    "And you''re not going to tell me what it is."


    "The less you know, the safer you''ll be," I replied. "I just need you to do this one thing. Deliver me to them in three days'' time."


    "Three days?" he repeated incredulously. "Why not now?"


    "I have one more stop to make first," I said. "And I need a little time to recover, or I won''t survive long enough for your betrayal to mean anything."


    Emersonughed again, this time with genuine humor. "You''re the craziest bastard I''ve ever met, Knight."


    "Is that a yes?" I pressed.


    He sighed deeply. "Get out of here. I''ll give you your three days. And Liam?" His expression grew serious. "Whatever you''re nning, I hope it works. For both your sakes."


    I nodded gratefully, then dragged myself back to the window. "I was never here."


    "Obviously," he replied dryly. "The Liam Knight I know would never be stupid enough to walk into a trap like this."


    I managed a weak smile before disappearing into the fading darkness.


    My final destinationy at the furthest edge of Veridia City—a modestpound nestled against the northern mountains. By the time I reached it, mid-morning sun beat down on my back, scorching my exposed flesh. My vision kept fading in and out, and several times I had to stop and vomit blood.


    Thepound appeared abandoned at first nce, but I knew better. Ignazio Bellweather valued his privacy above all else.


    The legendary War God of the Veridia City Battle Zone had retired here after decades of bloodshed. Some said he''d grown weary of killing. Others believed he''d been forced out by jealous rivals. Whatever the truth, one fact remained undisputed—he hadn''t been seen in public for over fifteen years.


    I stumbled to his gate, leaving bloody handprints on the worn wood. No guards patrolled the perimeter. Bellweather needed no protection beyond his reputation.


    "Iggy Bellweather!" I called out, my voice embarrassingly weak. "I need to speak with you!"


    Silence answered me. I tried again, louder this time.


    "Ignazio Bellweather! It''s Liam Knight! I''vee to—"


    The gate exploded outward, missing my face by inches. Through the settling dust emerged a figure I''d only seen in ancient paintings and faded battle records.


    Ignazio Bellweather stood well over six feet tall, his massive frame somehow managing to appear both muscr and withered at once. Long gray hair hung in tangled locks around a face weathered by time and violence. But his eyes—those were the eyes of a much younger man, burning with intelligence and barely contained rage.


    His aura hit me like a physical blow, nearly driving me to my knees. Raw, unrefined power radiated from him in waves that made the air shimmer.


    "Liam Knight," he growled, his voice like stones grinding together. "You''ve got some nerve! You dare toe find me?"


    I met his gaze steadily, summoning what little dignity I could while standing in a pool of my own blood.


    "I need your help," I said simply.


    Bellweather''s eyes narrowed as he took in my condition. "You''re dying," he observed bluntly.


    "Yes."


    "And you expect me to prevent that?"


    "No," I replied. "I expect you to teach me how to prevent it myself."


    A strange expression crossed his face—something between amusement and outrage. "Teach you? Boy, I haven''t taught anyone in twenty years."


    "I know." I swayed on my feet, darkness creeping into the edges of my vision. "But I''m not asking for charity. I''m offering you something in exchange."


    Bellweather crossed his massive arms. "What could a half-dead fugitive possibly offer me?"


    I reached into my spatial ring with trembling fingers and withdrew a small wooden box. It took all my remaining strength to hold it out to him.


    "This."


    Curiosity overcame his hostility. He took the box, examining it carefully before opening it. Insidey a single vial of crimson liquid.


    His head snapped up, eyes wide with shock. "Where did you get this?"


    "From the source," I answered. "The woman they''re holding captive at the Guild. Isabelle Ashworth."


    Bellweather stared at the vial, then back at me. "Do you even know what this is?"


    "Blood from the Ashworth bloodline. Containing traces of the Original Ancestor''s essence."


    His eyebrows rose fractionally. "You understand more than you should."


    "I understand that you need it," I pressed. "That you''ve been searching for it for decades."


    Bellweather''s face hardened. "And what exactly do you want in exchange for this... miracle?"


    "Three things," I replied, forcing strength into my voice despite my fading consciousness. "First, teach me your Body Reinforcement technique. Second, give me ess to your library of forbiddenbat arts. And third..."


    I paused, knowing my next request would be the most outrageous.


    "I want you to help me infiltrate the Veridia City Martial Guild and rescue Isabelle Ashworth."


    Silence stretched between us. Then, unexpectedly, Bellweatherughed—a harsh, rusty sound like he''d forgotten how.


    "You really are dying," he said. "Your brain is clearly not getting enough blood."


    I took a step forward, stumbling slightly. "I''m serious."


    "Oh, I know you are. That''s what makes it so absurd." He studied the vial again, turning it to watch the light y through the crimson liquid. "This blood is indeed precious. Worth a great deal to me. But worth risking my life against the entire Guild?" He shook his head. "Not even close."


    I had onest card to y. "I can get you more. As much as you need."


    His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How?"


    "Help me rescue her, and I''ll ensure you have regr ess to her blood—freely given, not stolen." I met his gaze unflinchingly. "I give you my word."


    Bellweather studied me intently, as if searching for signs of deception. "Even if I believed you could fulfill that promise, why would I teach someone as weak as you? You couldn''t even defend yourself against one attack from Bancroft."


    The insult stung, but I didn''t let it show. "Because I have something no other student has ever offered you."


    "And what''s that?"


    I smiled grimly. "The Chaotic Body. I can cultivate both light and dark energies simultaneously. Your techniques would reach their full potential in me."


    His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "Impossible. That bloodline died out centuries ago."


    In response, I summoned thest dregs of my energy. Golden light spiraled up my right arm while darkness coiled around my left—a manifestation of dual energies that should have been mutually exclusive.


    Bellweather stared, momentarily speechless.


    I swayed dangerously, the disy draining what little strength I had left. "So," I managed, my voice barely audible, "do we have a deal?"


    The world tilted sideways as my legs finally gave out. Thest thing I saw before unconsciousness imed me was Ignazio Bellweather''s weathered face, his expression unreadable as he reached out to catch my falling body.