The atmosphere around me was tense as I stared at Elder Zhang Jie, whose expression shifted from surprise to anger as Shu Yan translated my words. The language barrier didn't allow for direct communication, so Shu Yan acted as the bridge between our distinct languages.
"You. Court. Death," roared Zhang Jie, advancing toward me with determination. His fist, charged with ancestral energy, aimed to strike me. Dodging became a dangerous dance, and my ability to turn my body into mist was my only ally.
"To hell with all this shit, bunch of damn bumpkins," I muttered as my physical form dissipated into thick mist. Zhang Jie's blow passed harmlessly through me, his frustration evident in his eyes.
"Translate this, Shu Yan," I ordered, pointing at Zhang Jie as I reconstituted myself. Shu Yan, with a worried expression, translated my bluntly frank statement literally.
"If you want to know how we fight in the sky, I'll show you," I declared, anchoring my feet to the ground. The metamorphosis from my ethereal form to a solid incarnation made my presence surreal, attracting curious looks from everyone around us. Shu Yan, once again, translated as I prepared for the imminent battle.
"Compared to Albert, you're nothing but bumpkins," I taunted, advancing toward Zhang Jie. The elder's defense went up as I approached, and the deadly dance between his physical abilities and my nebulous arts began.
Zhang Jie unleashed a series of precise strikes, his physical prowess contrasting with my ability to become intangible. I dodged, slipping through his punches like an elusive shadow. He could sense my presence, but the unpredictability of the mist made me elusive.
At one point, I transformed my arm into dense mist as I slid behind him. Before Zhang Jie could react, I solidified my fist and struck him in the face. The impact was brutal, pushing him backward, but he quickly recovered.
The battle unfolded in a choreographed chaos, Zhang Jie's agility contrasting with the nebulous metamorphosis I commanded. Each exchange of blows was a duel between the ancient and the ethereal, a clash of brute strength against intangible cunning. Tension hung in the air, fueling the imminent violence.
Zhang Jie advanced with renewed fury, his fists channeling ancestral energy. I moved like shadows, dodging his attacks with supernatural grace. The crowd around watched with fascination and apprehension, witnessing a battle that transcended the limits of human understanding.
At a crucial moment, I turned my arm into dense mist as I slid behind Zhang Jie. His robust body, accustomed to facing physical opponents, was unprepared for the evasive nature of my metamorphosis. In a fluid motion, I solidified my fist and delivered a devastating blow to his spine, making him stagger.
Rage boiled within me, fueling my determination. Zhang Jie's expression shifted from confidence to disbelief as I once again became a cloud of mist, enveloping him. His eyes sought something tangible, but I was intangible, insubstantial.
The mist seeped into his pores, shrouding every part of his being. I deliberately moved slowly, prolonging his agony. In a cruel moment, I turned my hand into a sharp mist and entered his body, penetrating his internal organs.
Zhang Jie's eyes met mine as I delved into his flesh. Pain reflected in his dilated irises, surprise mixed with terror. I maintained unbroken eye contact; I wanted him to see the face of his executioner, to witness every cruel move I executed.
Each organ became a target of my misty vengeance. My misty fingers slid coldly, corroding, tearing apart. Zhang Jie's agony echoed across the battlefield, a desperate lament. The sound of flesh being torn and the anguished grunts formed a grotesque symphony.
Reaching his heart, the intensity of pain peaked. I could feel the irregular pulsing of the organ, as if it were throbbing under the pressure of the mist. Zhang Jie's gaze faded, but I still held him, prolonging his torment.
"I won't take shit from anyone anymore," I muttered, my voice cutting through the tense air. The tone was icy, laden with ruthless resolve. As his life slipped away, I withdrew my misty hand from his chest, leaving behind a trail of internal destruction.
Zhang Jie's body collapsed to the ground, a marionette whose strings were cut. Silence settled, interrupted only by the whispering wind and the shocked murmurs of onlookers. I stood there, amidst the battlefield, surrounded by the mist that had witnessed the brutality of my vengeance. The price of victory, paid with the currency of cruelty.
The mist that had spread during the battle now returned to me, embracing every dispersed fragment of my ethereal form. It was as if the ether obeyed a call, a cosmic dance of invisible particles converging to rebuild what was once flesh and bone. Spectators were petrified before the surreal spectacle of my resurrection, and the atmosphere was impregnated with the dark energy emanating from the fog.
The metamorphosis began at the extremities, small mist particles joining meticulously, like fragments of a distorted reality. Each detail was reformulated, a molecular reconstruction that defied the laws of nature. Onlookers gaped in astonishment at the resurgence of my body, a dark wonder that challenged human understanding.
My silhouette began to solidify slowly. Mist droplets danced around me, delicately forming each contour, each feature. The skin was the last to manifest, a subtle transition from shadows to flesh. It was as if I emerged from an ethereal realm, a resurrection guided by an unknown force.
The volcano, as if responding to my rebirth, began to crackle intensely. Its bowels released a deep roar, a sinister symphony echoing through the valley. The flames danced in response, as if recognizing the return of their lost son, now bathed in blood and vengeance.
My eyes, now filled with an icy intensity, swept the battlefield. In my right hand, the crushed heart of Zhang Jie rose, a macabre trophy of my victory. Drops of blood trickled between my fingers, silent witnesses to the brutality inflicted.
Zhang Jie's body lay on the ground, seemingly intact, without the holes that the mist and my power had created. The scene was disconcerting for the spectators who still tried to grasp the surreal nature of what had occurred.
The mist continued to envelop me, a dark aura lingering. It was as if I were a newly born entity, forged in the depths of darkness. To complete the metamorphosis, I focused on recreating Zhang Jie's attire. The mist shaped itself into fabric, replicating every detail of his clothing perfectly. The result was an exact reproduction, a copy that covered my body appropriately, avoiding embarrassing nudity.
The scene was a mix of mystery and horror, the mist around me now dissipating as if it had fulfilled its purpose. Silence hung over the battlefield, interrupted only by the distant crackling of the volcano and the restless murmurs of onlookers who witnessed the shadowy resurrection of the nebulous avenger.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
I released Zhang Jie's crushed heart, letting it slip through my fingers. The shattered organ disintegrated into a dense mist that clung to my body. A trail of bloody vapor snaked its way to the web-like scar on my chest, as if the mist recognized its way back home. The process was macabre but necessary for the integration of the essence of the defeated elder.
"After killing one of them, I'm probably not welcome here anymore. My meeting with their leader definitely won't happen," I sighed, feeling the weight of loneliness increase as I contemplated the consequences of my actions.
The mist around me responded to my words, forming my hands with an ethereal fluidity. "This mist could allow me to gain some kind of power from those I've killed, right?" I murmured to myself, exploring the limits and potential of my ability. I moved my fingers, watching the mist transform into flesh, a nebulous alchemy that gave me a deeper connection with what I had defeated.
"After all, what is the cost of this? I don't feel tired, but there must be some kind of cost." I questioned, pondering the implications of this mysterious ability. Uncertainty loomed over me, but curiosity and the desire to understand this new facet of my being persisted.
I stared at the vast plain before me, lost in thought, when reality struck me again. "I don't know the language, I don't know where I am, and I definitely don't know how to get back to paradise. And I just killed my way into this bunch of hicks." I muttered between words, the feeling of isolation intensifying.
However, my moment of reflection was abruptly interrupted by growing murmurs in the background. People were approaching, perhaps curious, perhaps hostile. "Damn, they want more? Screw this, I'm out of this crap," I declared, deciding to distance myself from the imminent confrontation.
I walked in the opposite direction, moving away from the plain and the growing voices. I no longer desired unnecessary fights or to worsen my situation. The uncertainty of my destiny persisted, but one thing was clear: escaping was the only sensible option in the face of the unknown that stretched before me.
The acceleration of my steps echoed across the plain, but the sensation of pursuit persisted. The group following me insisted on continuing their hunt. I clicked my tongue, frustration mixing with the desire to escape. I decided to act quickly, transforming my legs into mist to increase my speed, a dense fog swiftly crawling across the ground.
I sped up, plunging my body into the ether. My metamorphosis was a macabre spectacle, a transition between tangible and intangible states. The emptiness of the mist enveloped me, and I stopped abruptly to change direction, disorienting my pursuers. They followed my old path, while I dove into the dense forest, my body taking shape again on top of a tall tree.
I felt my feet forming, touching the sturdy wood. "I definitely need to resolve this situation, I can't keep running from this crap forever," I muttered to myself, feeling the urgency to find a solution to my chaotic condition.
The idea struck me like a flash. "No... is this possible?" A smile formed on my face as I stretched out my arm. "Can I form my hand in a more distant area?" I turned my arm into mist and formed my fist at a greater distance. The discovery was invigorating, a glimpse of possibilities unfolding before me. "Damn, this is really good," I exclaimed, testing the limitations of my ability.
However, my excitement was interrupted by the familiar voices of Shu Yan. "Elder. Want. Speak. With. You. No. Anger," her voice echoed, shouting carefully chosen words as she tried to convey a message, even if slowly. Quickly, I withdrew my distant hand and brought it back to my body, focusing on Shu Yan's words.
The pursuit and escape seemed temporarily suspended as I listened to the elder's message. I pondered what would come next, my body still on the treetop, watching the shadows of the forest stretch like a tapestry of mystery and uncertainty.
I reformed my body in front of Shu Yan, my gaze scanning the surroundings. "You have no anger? I killed one of you," I hissed slowly, my body ready to dissolve into mist at any sign of danger.
"No. Have. Anger. With. You," replied Shu Yan, looking at me with a concerned expression. Her response was intriguing, a contrast to the expected retaliation.
"And what about you and your elder? And the others?" I asked, trying to understand the dynamics of that group. In my mind, it was hard to accept that killing one of their own would have no consequences.
"We want. Speak. With. Son. Of. Heaven. Learn. From. You," Shu Yan explained once again, her slow and chosen words conveying the group's intention.
"I figured that would be the case, pure interest," I murmured, piecing together the loose elements of the situation in my mind. They wanted something from me, possibly my power or knowledge, and I could feel the irony of the situation. The possibility of teaching was an unknown, but they had no way of knowing that.
I chuckled subtly at the absurd situation. "Well, this could be interesting. But tell me, what exactly do you expect to learn from a lost 'Son of Heaven' around here?" I inquired, curious to know more about the motives that led them to seek my presence. The forest around us seemed to silently observe, as if awaiting the revelation of secrets intertwined with the mist that permeated my existence.
Shu Yan, with her serious expression, began to explain the reason behind the group's desire to learn from me. "Son. Of. Heaven. Have. Power. Mist. Learn. How. To. Use."
Understanding washed over me as she unraveled the nature of their interest. They sought to comprehend and master the mist, the power that flowed within me. A cosmic irony, considering that I myself barely understood the full extent of my abilities.
"I see," I murmured, contemplating the perspective. "So, you wish to learn how to manipulate the mist like me?" I continued, wanting to clarify the scope of their intentions.
"Yes. Power. Strong. Son. Of. Heaven. Have. Strong. Power," confirmed Shu Yan, her eyes reflecting determination.
An intriguing thought crossed my mind. "What if I can't teach? What if what I have is not something that can be conveyed?" I questioned, aware of the limitations of my own understanding of the mist.
"Want. Try. Learn. From. Son. Of. Heaven. Try. Even. Without. Guarantee," replied Shu Yan, demonstrating a persistence that I could barely comprehend. It seemed they were willing to take the risk, regardless of the outcome.
I nodded, accepting the situation. "Very well. Let's try. But I make no promises. The mist is unpredictable, and even I don't fully understand its extent," I declared, aware of the uncertainties surrounding what they sought to learn.
The small group stood before me, no more than fifteen people. Among them, I singled out the figure of Elder Liu Xing, the one who originally welcomed me when I emerged from the volcano. Tension hung in the air, evident in the cautious glances and attentive postures of those present.
"Our. Sect. Want. Learn. From. You," Shu Yan expressed the group's intention again, her words echoing slowly.
I looked directly at Elder Liu Xing, awaiting his approach with a certain apprehension. "Alright, but I want to hear from him, what does he think about me killing one of you?" I inquired, seeking the elder's response to be translated by Shu Yan.
Liu Xing, with a thoughtful expression, began to speak, his words conveyed by the translator. "Elder. Understand. Reasons. Son. Of. Heaven. No. Have. Anger. Sect. Seek. Knowledge. Learn. Mist. From. You."
The elder's response seemed more focused on practical utility than emotions. The quest for knowledge appeared to outweigh resentment for the act I committed. Observing the expressions around, I noticed a mix of curiosity and expectation. It seemed that Liu Xing's decision aligned with the collective desire of the sect to expand their abilities.
I sighed deeply, resigned to the realization that even in this place, power continued to be a driving force. I accompanied Elder Liu Xing as other members of the group, including youths of my age, began to converse among themselves. One of them, gathering courage, started speaking in their native language, but my understanding remained empty until Shu Yan's voice entered, translating his words.
"Hu Ren. Want. Know. About. Your. Wings," Shu Yan said, as everyone, including the elder, directed their gaze toward me.
An ironic laugh escaped me. My "wings" were not something I inherently possessed; they were a gift from Albert, a manifestation of his ability, the Covenant. However, revealing such a secret was not part of my plans. I needed to maintain my disguise to protect my true origin and ensure a return to the heavens. Thus, I embraced the role of deception once again.
"My wings are injured at the moment, due to the fall," I replied, keeping a sorrowful expression on my face. It was crucial to maintain the façade that would allow me to continue my journey in the skies, hiding the complexity of my existence and abilities. The group around me seemed to accept my explanation, and I continued to weave a narrative that would serve as a shield for my true nature.
The group around me absorbed the fictional explanation about my wings with an understanding expression, perhaps touched by the idea of a fall that compromised such a symbolic part of me. I maintained my countenance, a skillfully crafted mixture of sadness and resignation, while observing the reactions around me.
Shu Yan translated my response, and conversations among the group members continued. Some expressions denoted compassion, others curiosity. It was evident that the narrative of a fall had resonated in some way with them, creating a bond of understanding, even if based on a lie.
Elder Liu Xing, with his wisdom, remained silently observing, assessing my interaction with his people. It was clear that, despite the interest in the mist, there was caution regarding the foreigner who had disrupted the apparent balance of their community.
"Son. Of. Heaven. Have. Much. Power. Important. Teaching," expressed Liu Xing, his words being translated by Shu Yan. He indicated an understanding that the knowledge I possessed was valuable and crucial for the sect.
I nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the responsibility that fell upon me. "I am willing to share what I know. But remember, the mist is a capricious force. You must learn to respect and understand it; otherwise, the consequences can be devastating," I warned, conveying the seriousness of the situation.
The group nodded in unison, showing a willingness to face the challenge. However, I knew that the path ahead of them was filled with uncertainties, much like my own destiny. The mist that permeated our lives now also wove the threads of understanding between us, and I prepared to guide the sect through the nebulous veil of knowledge.