As the sun dipped below the horizon, Julius, seated cross-legged, opened his eyes and faced his enemy.

Across from him stood Kenneth, the Ashwarden, a menacing figure clad in a black and red uniform. His hands, adorned with various amplifying rings, and the chilling smirk he wore added a coldness to the post-rain air, while his fiery arms painted the narrow, dim slum street in shades of orange, sending waves of heat rippling through the air.

Kenneth was undoubtedly the first real challenge Julius had encountered since arriving in this world. He was one of the orchestrators behind the oppression and massacres targeting him, Lucia, and the Nivians—a hurdle Julius had to overcome.

A Second-Ringed mage—despite Julius not yet being counted among the mages, his body instinctively understood the significance of this title. If a First-Ringed mage was merely an ordinary person who had mastered some special natural forces, a Second-Ringed mage was a powerful being who had taken the first steps towards becoming "more than human."

*Buzzzz*

As Julius braced himself, ready in spirit, Kenneth's two arcane rings flickered simultaneously.

*Bang*

An explosion beneath him propelled Kenneth forward, his fists, burning fiercely, shot towards Julius like meteors aiming for his face.

*Shing*

In an instant, Julius's figure flickered, dodging the scorching punch. His steps were agile, and as he drew his sword in retreat, he thrust it precisely towards a weak spot at Kenneth's waist.

*Clang*

But Kenneth, battle-hardened, was quick to react. He had already seen through Julius's intention as the sword was drawn. A casual block with his flame-conjured gauntlet parried the attack, leaving no chance for follow-through.

Retreating, Julius glanced quickly at his sword; just from that brief contact, the tip of the elite HoundGuards' straight sword had blackened and was already deteriorating, significantly reducing its piercing capability.

*Bang, bang, bang—*

Without giving Julius a moment to think, Kenneth's onslaught continued. Successive explosions under his feet granted him unmatched mobility, each punch enveloped in terrifying heatwaves and bursts of flame, targeting Julius' vital areas relentlessly.

Faced with such a disparity in strength, with attacks futile and counters ineffective, Julius could only rely on his extensive combat experience and his enigmatic movements to continuously dodge and counter. At times he was light as a feather in the wind, elusive; at other times, he was like lightning on a rainy night, his sword flashing.

Yet, no matter how skillful his evasions, Kenneth, with superior physical capabilities and absolute speed, kept up relentlessly. Although he never landed a hit, the heatwaves from his burning fists constantly enveloped Julius, curling his hair ends, soaking him in sweat, leaving him parched and breathless.

As for Julius's counterattacks, they were either blocked by the fiery gauntlet or forced back by the explosive flames. The durability of his weapon was continuously drained, with signs it might even melt.

*Ding*

Eventually, Kenneth seized his moment. A cannon-like punch struck directly on the HoundGuards’ elite straight sword, snapping it in half. The physically drained and dehydrated Julius finally revealed a weakness.

*Thud*

The punch, propelled by explosive flames, crushed bones and organs, piercing straight through Julius's chest—

————————

*Huff—Huff—*

As the sun set, Julius suddenly opened his eyes within the crude dwelling made from stacks of discarded wooden planks. He wiped the sweat from his face, adjusted his posture, and immediately practiced his breathing techniques to swiftly recover his strength.

The seventh meditative combat simulation, and still a defeat... Julius pondered, gulping down the coarse gruel prepared by the children of the White Wolf gang to quickly regain his energy. The power of a Second-Ringed mage is indeed formidable.

Meditative arts, a mandatory skill for most righteous cultivators, allow beginners to calm their minds and hearts, while advanced practitioners can use meditation to combat their inner demons.

For someone as adept as Julius, he could expand his mental space during meditation, immersing himself in combat simulations against imaginary foes. These simulations were so realistic they could almost be mistaken for reality, and the exhaustion experienced in the mental space even reflected partially on his physical body.

By extracting images from the karma embedded in the weapons of the deceased, Julius had managed to reconstruct Kenneth's entire repertoire of moves from his battles with Hati and Skoll in his mind. After six meditative simulations, he had decoded every move, managing to dodge them using his frail body—yet he still fell at the crucial moment of attack.

"Ordinary weapons would melt upon close contact, and even those wrapped in soul energy could only last briefly. As for other tactics..."

If he could wield the Unmatched Sword Intent, which could sever anything, he could cut off Kenneth's flaming gauntlet along with his arm. However, with no Unmatched Sword Intent left to spare, not to mention the considerable physical and spiritual strain of using it in battle, if he failed to defeat Kenneth with that one sword-intent charged strike, his defeat would only come faster.

Moreover, meditative simulations are ultimately based on existing information; Kenneth might still have some hidden trump card skills, and considering other members of the HoundGuards could be formidable too...

The chance of victory is less than one out of ten, another plan is required.

During his contemplation, Julius's gaze fell on the elite straight sword of the HoundGuards—according to the scouts, this sword had once belonged to Kenneth, explaining why the karma within it was so vile.

If he could completely release the karma within this sword during battle...

"Are you okay?"

Noticing the peculiar heavy breathing from Julius's breathing technique, a Nivian girl pushed aside the curtain made of old rags, placed a basin of water beside him, and looked at Julius, who was sweating profusely on the ground, with concern. "The collector is full, would you like a drink?"

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Thank you for your concern, Elsa." Scooping up a cup of relatively clean rainwater from the basin, Julius continued, "Have the other children left the square?"

Elsa, who had previously attacked Julius due to a misunderstanding, was now the eldest among the surviving White Wolf gang children and temporarily acted as their leader.

"Yes, they're all in the supply warehouse now, assembling crossbows and poisoning arrows for tomorrow," Elsa paused, a hint of resolve flickering in her eyes. "They all want to join the action to rescue Hati and Skoll."

But faced with her determination, Julius's brow furrowed slightly.

"Even if it means dying there?"

Only seven children remained in the White Wolf gang after Kenneth's massacre, with the youngest being only nine years old and the eldest, Elsa, fifteen. These children, armed with weapons assembled from trash and scrap metal, venturing into an execution ground was akin to lambs walking into a lion's den. That's why Julius had been adamantly opposed to their involvement from the start.

"We still have you, though, and without that guy around, maybe we stand a chance..." Elsa's defense trailed off weakly, her voice diminishing.

Clearly, she couldn't even convince herself. They weren't like Hati or Skoll, capable Cyromancers who could wield frost; just two or three apprentice mages from the HoundGuards were enough to massacre them. She knew all too well that even with an expert like Julius assisting, the mission was more likely to end in disaster than success.

“I never said I'd take you with me,” Julius shook his head. “Moreover, when the execution takes place tomorrow, Kenneth will undoubtedly be there waiting.”

Perhaps originally Kenneth merely assumed the attackers on the HoundGuards' squad were from the White Wolf gang, but now, through reports from the scouts, he certainly had detailed information about Julius, and had established a solid link between the attack on Karl's squad and Karl's death to Julius.

Leaving obvious evidence at the massacre site, openly announcing the execution site and time beforehand, and deliberately leaving some survivors to spread the word—Kenneth's actions were a transparent plot, a glaringly obvious trap set for Julius and the surviving members of the White Wolf gang.

“Even if you really manage to kill a few HoundGuards, even if you miraculously rescue those two, and even if you somehow break through the city gates and return to the slums—what then?”

“Then...” Elsa muttered, not needing further prompting from Julius to imagine the bleak outcomes.

With Hati and Skoll severely wounded and unable to fight, and a squad of HoundGuards mages quickly tracking them down using magical surveillance, a predictable massacre would ensue. This time, without Kenneth's whimsical mercy, it would be a thorough extermination.

“If you understand, then tell them to pack up quickly. The White Wolf gang's hideout is no longer safe to stay.” Julius stood up, stepping out of the temporary dwelling Elsa had arranged for him. “There's an abandoned sewer entrance on the third bend of the north tributary of the sewer river—consider it my home. Hide there until the storm passes.”

“You mean we should just sit by and do nothing? Just let our leaders be torn apart by wild wolves?!” Elsa stepped forward, blocking Julius’s path, her voice trembling with emotion. “Hati and Skoll brought us together, made us a family. They are our last hope—if we abandon them, what’s left for us?!”

Her breathing quickened as if recalling the massacre, her emotions spiralling out of control.

“Family, friends, I lost everything because of those bastards. It was the White Wolf gang that gave me everything back, and then those bastards took it all away again! Even if it costs my life to have a chance to kill those HoundGuards, even if it’s just one of their pretentious lackeys, it would be worth it!”

“I've already bought the poison from the black market, the kids are poisoning the arrows, just a scratch is enough to kill them in agony! If the eight of us strike together, we could take down ten or more HoundGuards...”

“Even if I die out there, under their magic, I don't want to live a cowardly life, watching those who took everything from us continue to strut around without paying any price... Cough, cough, cough!”

Her ragged breathing and uncontrollable trembling soon forced Elsa to cough violently, spitting up streaks of blood from a throat ravaged by smoke and ash. Pain, sorrow, and rage mingled together, bending her over in agony.

Julius, witnessing all this, said nothing but helped her sit down and gently patted her back to ease her breathing.

Elsa’s eyes, burning quietly in the depths of despair, were a sight he had seen too many times in a past life. Disciples, brothers, or whoever else—they were names and details long eroded by the endless void, but he remembered well the name of the flame in those eyes—vengeance.

This flame, once ignited in the heart, burns a vast void within, and even if it eventually tears the enemy apart, the void it leaves can never be filled; the flame will not extinguish. This unstoppable hatred will ultimately consume a person entirely, turning them into “demons.”

After a long silence, Julius finally spoke, “You are just children; revenge should not be your burden to bear.”

“Children...?” Elsa, coming back to her senses, paused and looked at Julius, who appeared even younger and frailer than her. “But aren't you also...”

“So, let me do it.”

Julius took a deep breath, seeing clarity return to Elsa's eyes, he continued.

“Kenneth, I will end his tyranny. Hati and Skoll, I will save them. Justice for the Nivians, I will claim it.”

His tone was so resolute, without a hint of hesitation, that Elsa found herself at a loss for words, merely staring as he picked up his sword and walked towards the square.

Her inner fury still roared, unquelled, but watching Julius's departing figure, Elsa suddenly felt an odd sense of peace spreading within her.

The sun had fully set, and the splendid twilight filtered through the tangled stacks of the slum's dwellings, casting fragmented light upon Julius's back, like a tattered cape fluttering in the wind.

-Break-

Julius had ultimately withheld the full truth from Elsa.

Indeed, the fire of revenge is a scorching curse that torments the heart, consuming those it touches, and potentially erasing the very foundations of their identity. Even if this flame is satisfied, the precious things lost are never regained.

Yet at the same time, this hatred is also a source of power.

It can grant an unknown soldier unyielding perseverance, transform a coward into a warrior of steel, and provide a fallen soul with a reason to move forward. Hatred is like a perilous double-edged sword: conquer and harness it, and one might become a hero; succumb to its rule, and one falls into demonic depths.

Lost in thought, Julius returned to the square where the tragedy had occurred, which was still in disarray.

In the centre of the square, on a pile of charred corpses, the HoundGuards' mark left by Kenneth still burned on those bodies, a bold declaration of his deeds.

*Tap, tap, tap*

Taking a few more steps closer, Julius stopped in front of the Sword Mount he had previously erected and bowed with his hands clasped in front.

"Allow me the honor of borrowing your weapons."

Reaching out, he grasped the hilt of a twisted, charred sword, and his consciousness plunged into it.

To take a weapon from the Sword Mount meant to inherit all the grudges of the deceased, until all were settled.

*Sizzle*

Instantly, as the Karma was released, the scorching hate and resentment mixed with Kenneth's destructive elemental force contained within the sword rekindled the embers of the entire square. The hilt immediately flared up, turning red-hot and causing smoke to rise from his palm.

"From this moment forth, your grievances, I shall bear alone." Julius allowed the embers to scorch his palm, his expression unchanged, merely closing his eyes as he continued his ritual, "Here, I beseech the aid of you all."

As the eulogy proceeded, searing black and red flames began to burst from the sword, enveloping Julius’s entire hand in agonizing heat.

This was the interrogation of exactly 27 vengeful spirits, questioning this stranger of the same race—what right, what duty did he have to shoulder this heavy burden of blood debt?

And it was also a form of consolation. As the Karma flowed into him, the brutal images of slaughter flashed before Julius again, the spirits conveying in unison the invincibility of their enemy, attempting to persuade him to withdraw, to not become another meaningless sacrifice.

But Julius was already resolute, and the flashbacks only made his resolve firmer, gripping the sword hilt tighter.

"He who has brought shame upon you, I shall make him pay; he who has harmed you, I shall make him bleed—until my own blood runs dry."

As the ritual concluded, it was as if those unseen entities finally found peace, and the burning pain in his palm finally dissipated. When Julius opened his eyes again, he held only an ordinary charred sword in his hand; the black and red flames, the swirling ashes, and the burns on his hands had all vanished.