Nathan didn't dwell on it much. He left early partly to avoid a prolonged argument with Jessica. She would have refused such a substantial gift anyway. Still, concerns about her work and life lingered in his mind.
"Don't worry, Nate," Zeryn said drowsily from his seat on the train. "I've arranged for someone to keep an eye on Jessica. If anything happens, you'll know right away."
Nathan nodded absently, gazing out the train window as it carved through varying terrains. The distant landscapes rushed past in a blur, barely registering before they plunged through mountains or forests, leaving only ghostly afterimages in his mind.
He felt he'd taken a significant step forward. The path of Physical Cultivation wasn't necessarily a poor choice. To achieve extraordinary results, one must take extraordinary measures. He'd decided to trust Darkan, so there was no room left for hesitation.
He used the idle time to examine his system interface.
Nathan Reed (24 years old -- male)
Spirit Cultivation Level: Tier 1 (Initial), Phase 2.6.
Skill Points Available: 0
Skills Possessed: [Amplifying Strike], [Martial Art Mastery], [Self Emotional Support], [Bad Mouth], [Flowing Strikes], [Titan's Descendant], [Better Vision], [Improved Balance], [Internal Trauma]
Skills Reserved: [Bad Mouth] x 1
Credits: 1348
Rolls Available: 1 x Rare Skill Roll
He decided to use his remaining roll.
Starting Rare Skill Roll...
Congratulations! You received a Rare Skill -- Utility Skill [Cooking]
Rare and above skill will give you one bonus roll.
You received [Rebound].
[Cooking]
Description: grants deep knowledge of food preparation and ingredient properties.
--
[Rebound]
Description: gives you a 17% chance to bounce any attack's force back to its source.
*Cannot rebound more force than your body can naturally withstand.
*Does not stack with similar damage reflection abilities.
*Minimum effect against mana attacks.
That 17% again, Nathan cursed inwardly.
What surprised him most was receiving a skill seemingly unrelated to combat. [Cooking] appeared more suited to survival and daily life. Its Rare classification puzzled him. Unlike other skills, [Cooking] should be learnable through conventional means—or so he thought. But when he considered his only Ultra Rare skill, [Martial Art Mastery], he began to understand. Perhaps it was the sheer volume of knowledge in these fields that made them rare. Moreover, it affected actions directly, transforming Nathan into a master in the blink of an eye.
The moment this thought crossed his mind, his head experienced the familiar sensation of skill acquisition. Knowledge of food, nutritional values, tastes, and flavors flooded his consciousness. The meals he'd previously prepared in his dormitory suddenly seemed like garbage in comparison. In his mind, recipe possibilities expanded endlessly. Each ingredient opened up countless variations. The knowledge stopped at his ability to handle only mortal-tier ingredients. Presumably, level 2 of [Cooking] would teach him how to prepare Tier 2 resources.
His eyes brightened as he grasped why it was classified as a Rare skill. The system always had strange aspects that defied his conventional logic.
Though he'd experienced the excitement of new skills before, he maintained better control now. He'd save [Cooking] for later study, especially that intriguing level 2 potential.
Nathan contemplated [Rebound]. Despite its limitations, there was something about the skill description that made his mind itch. He'd learned early that in this world, intent mattered as much as action. As someone who'd paid attention to wording since the beginning, he immediately began testing his theory.
Extending his left forearm, he readied his right hand to flick it. But instead of a casual motion, he focused his mind as if preparing to strike an enemy. Let's see if the system can distinguish intent, he thought.
The first few flicks, delivered with casual attention, produced nothing. Then Nathan narrowed his eyes, channeling genuine hostile intent into the motion—treating his own arm as a target to be attacked. On the fifth such focused flick, the system message appeared.
Triggered [Rebound]. One credit given.
A strange sensation occurred at the point of contact. The small pain didn't manifest in his left forearm but in his middle finger, causing him to pull it back slightly. More importantly, the system had recognized his attacking intent, even when directed at himself.
He grinned like a three-year-old with a new toy, continuing to flick until the warning appeared.
System determined you are abusing. Credit will not be given for this kind of scenario for 24 hours.
Nathan's smile grew increasingly devious as he examined [Rebound]'s upgrade paths and contemplated the implications. The skill didn't care who the attack came from—only that there was genuine combat intent behind it. And in any real combat...
His eyes lit up with understanding. Every strike against an opponent generated a reaction force back into his own body. If he maintained battle intent throughout the exchange, that reaction force would count as an attack against himself. With proper timing and the right mindset...
Growth Path 1: Bounce by Chance Next Level: increase the chance to 25%.
Growth Path 2: Methodical Bounce Next Level: change the way the skill operates. Now the bouncing effect will apply to the fourth attack you received.
Choosing one path will disable the other.
He invested one hundred credits to upgrade [Rebound], choosing the Methodical path.
He excitedly punched Zeryn beside him, startling his friend from sleep. Zeryn shot Nathan an angry look before drifting back to slumber.
In his subsequent tests, it functioned exactly as theorized—the fourth attack-with-intent triggered the effect consistently. During testing, [Amplifying Strike], [Flowing Strikes], and [Internal Trauma] all competed to manifest, creating a bizarre feedback loop of force and intent.
"The system recognizes intent," he muttered to himself. "The reaction force from my strikes carries the same combat intent as the original attack. It's not just about the physics—it's about the will behind the force."
This realization opened up staggering possibilities. By maintaining battle intent throughout an exchange, he could turn [Rebound] from a defensive skill into an offensive amplifier. The reaction force from his own attacks would become the fourth "intentional hit," triggering [Rebound] at the perfect moment to enhance his strikes.
Incorporating [Rebound] into his 'Fourth Attack Pattern' yielded unprecedented results.
Nathan's reasoning was elegant in its simplicity: when striking anything, especially with physical attacks, one encounters an equal and opposite force at the moment of impact against the opponent's body. Newton’s Third Law. This reaction force counted as the body being attacked. This same force caused broken arms and legs when practitioners trained improperly. But with [Rebound], this reaction force would be completely reversed. And since the attack originated from him, it rarely exceeded his body's natural tolerance. Thus, with precise timing, a one-inch punch could be amplified not just twice, but three times. Furthermore, combined with his other skills, [Rebound] would create a devastatingly painful counter. Most remarkably, the pain from the reaction force would be completely displaced.
The difficulty would be in the execution. He'd need to develop a technique to rapidly launch three intent-laden strikes—perhaps quick taps to his own body—while preparing [Amplifying Strike] and [Flowing Strikes] for activation. The timing would need to be precise, ensuring the reaction force from his actual attack hit him as the fourth impact.
[Rebound]'s capabilities became even more crucial considering Nathan's chosen path of Physical Cultivation. Viewed this way, [Rebound] might be worth more than its Rare classification suggested. However, to function as Nathan intended, it relied heavily on his other skills, especially [Amplifying Strike].
He caught himself feeling slightly maniacal for transforming a defensive skill into a twisted offensive card. Opponents would never anticipate being overwhelmed by layered techniques. The challenge lay in mastering their use in combat. He could develop a technique to rapidly strike himself three times to prime [Rebound], while keeping [Amplifying Strike] and [Flowing Strikes] ready to activate. [Internal Trauma] likely wouldn't trigger—its disturbing effects came from outgoing attacks, not the rebounds.
His excitement mounting at the prospect of training, he grew increasingly eager to return to the Sect.
Like their outward journey, they used the booth transport at the outer gate. Zeryn bid farewell to train, while Nathan returned to meet Darkan.
His master lounged on a stone bench in the courtyard, head nodding drowsily.
"Good morning, Master," Nathan greeted.
Shaking himself awake, Darkan sat up and stretched.
"Back already? Thought you'd play around all day."
"Should I leave again then?"
Darkan suddenly appeared behind him, grabbing his collar.
"Not a chance."
In an instant, they were in a vast, dark chamber. A diamond-shaped stone floated in the center, emanating limited orange-yellow light. The air carried a cold dampness with high humidity. Whether real or imagined, Nathan found breathing slightly difficult.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"My cultivation chamber," Darkan replied.
The inner sect elder had apparently hidden his daily items, denying Nathan a glimpse of them. He fought the urge to shout and test the chamber's dimensions, curious whether it utilized spatial properties or if they were underground.
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"Stop looking around," Darkan scolded. "You won't see anything. Now sit."
Nathan complied, choosing a spot near the diamond-shaped stone—the only source of warmth. With [Titan's Descendant]'s physique struggling against the cold, he wondered how normal people could survive here.
Seeing his disciple's discomfort, Darkan smirked.
"One of the basic abilities of Physical Cultivators is cold resistance," Darkan explained. "Using blood circulation to increase body temperature naturally. The reverse is also possible, conserving water in arid environments."
Nathan nodded absently. Without guidance, he'd never figure it out.
Darkan vanished into the darkness briefly before returning, sitting cross-legged before him.
"Don't think I can't read your thoughts. Probably cursing about being told to do something without instruction, aren't you?"
"I would never," Nathan smiled innocently.
Darkan snorted dismissively, extending his hand to reveal his palm's contents. A sphere sat there, wrapped in a thin layer of smoke, its surface covered in flowing characters. Thousands of characters overlapped like a hidden network, drifting back and forth. They emitted a red light, lending an eerie crimson tinge to the surrounding smoke.
"A skill orb?" Nathan marveled.
"Yes. A Skill Orb of my creation."
"And I'm about to absorb it?"
"Correct."
Nathan felt his body heat rise despite the cold air. A skill orb. This item wasn't just his dream but that of every outer sect disciple. Unlike self-learned skills, skill orbs carried the knowledge and insights of predecessors, making immediate mastery possible. Thus, skill orbs held immense value across the continent. They could also be obtained from special monsters, with higher rates in spatial rifts. Monster-derived orbs differed from human-made ones, requiring refinement and completion. But their core function of granting unique skills remained the same.
Darkan's hesitation to hand over the skill orb puzzled Nathan. The usually carefree face now showed uncertainty.
Alaric's words haunted Darkan. The Skill Orb's color wasn't merely aesthetic. It carried properties of the contained skill. This eye-searing red represented something sinister. Perhaps Nathan was the only disciple ever excited facing Darkan's skill orb. An ignorant fool rushing into danger. Usually, when previous disciples tried refusing, Darkan would force the orb into them. But seeing someone genuinely eager made him hesitate. Nathan's physique showed immense promise. Darkan knew this from examining his body. Strength, regeneration, cellular vitality. The perfect candidate.
But what if...?
While contemplating buying a different Skill Orb for his disciple, Nathan spoke up.
"Master, what are you waiting for?"
This was the first disciple to show such potential, so Darkan actually feared the outcome, questioning his methods.
"Perhaps you shouldn't accept this Skill Orb," Darkan said wearily.
"Why?" Nathan's eyes widened in confusion. "Don't all core disciples go through this process?"
"Yes, but perhaps I should give you something else."
Nathan froze, understanding the orb carried risks.
"What happens if I absorb it?" Nathan asked.
Darkan scratched his head, unsure how to respond. Damn it, he actually wanted to nurture Nathan rather than play games.
"Just tell me the truth! I'll decide for myself."
Frustrated by unfamiliar careful consideration, Darkan burst out.
"Pain! Extreme pain. The kind of pain you can't fight because everything happens inside, born from your own mind. You'll go mad as your body rejects the skill's twisted operation. Finally, you'll destroy yourself to escape the loss of control. And your future ends there."
Nathan inhaled deeply, stunned by the revelation. Just moments ago, he'd been excited and eager to receive that Skill Orb. But his mind flickered with realization. Darkan said this was his own created Skill Orb. Didn't that mean someone had succeeded?
"Between you and the Sect Leader, who's stronger?" he asked seemingly randomly.
"What?" Darkan startled, lost in his disciple's train of thought.
"If you fought Sect Leader Alaric using this skill, who would win?" Nathan clarified.
Darkan couldn't help smiling at his disciple. So this was why Alaric demanded he behave properly. When truly having a disciple wanting to follow his path, the happiness was indescribable.
"I would win!" Darkan looked straight at his disciple, answering seriously.
"What percentage?"
"100%. Alaric can't defeat me when I use my full Physical Cultivation power."
"Didn't you say you couldn't beat Spirit Cultivators of the same tier?"
"Who said my Physical Cultivation is the same tier as Alaric's?"
Nathan started. Indeed, as Darkan said, this information had never been revealed.
"So you're at Tier 6 in Physical Cultivation?"
Darkan crossed his arms mysteriously.
"Care to guess?"
His response came quickly, catching Darkan off guard.
"I won't guess anymore. What matters is: did you have the same cultivation time as the Sect Leader?"
"Alaric's older than me, kid!" Darkan bristled at the age reference.
Nathan felt fire ignite in his chest once more.
"Don't get cocky," Darkan warned. "Getting to my level isn't easy. Throw Alaric on this path and he wouldn't survive either."
"But with other Physical Cultivation paths, could you defeat the Sect Leader?"
Darkan contemplated briefly before answering firmly.
"No. The chance of victory would be only 5%."
"Then I accept your path."
This time, Darkan truly started. Now he understood Nathan had chosen this from the beginning. Those roundabout questions merely sought necessary courage. As a master, when a disciple showed such desire, he should have been the one preparing the way. Yet his disciple handled all the mental preparation alone. Even he could hardly believe feeling ashamed. His first willing follower, and he performed so poorly. His own master would surely beat him senseless for this.
Nathan only thought that he must take this risk. No one understood the frustration of being left behind better than him. Watching others stride forward confidently while he crawled and struggled. If possible, he wanted to run alongside them. He would fight beside Zeryn. He would protect Jessica. And he would return home, able to cure his mother's uncurable Alzheimer's.
What was the point of preserving this vessel of flesh? His chance lay before him. True, the system had aided his journey, but mere aid wasn't enough. Given a millennium, even the slowest cultivator could inch toward the peak. But he needed more—needed to sprint, to soar, to transcend mortal limits. Time was an impatient master. If he couldn't grasp true power now, he might as well embrace mediocrity and fade into obscurity.
Decision made, Nathan didn't let his brain generate unnecessary thoughts, grabbed the Skill Orb and pressed it to his forehead.
Darkan didn't stop him though he could have. Now wasn't the time to discourage his disciple anymore.
Before he could feel the Skill Orb's texture, it shattered into individual characters, shooting straight into Nathan's forehead. The red characters, like connecting snakes, wrapped around his head.
He closed his eyes, allowing everything to happen, unaware of Darkan's anxiety. The elder's hands hovered on either side of Nathan's head, ready to intervene if necessary.
Nathan didn't even feel the headache like when [Martial Art Mastery] poured its vast knowledge into his mind. He felt the red characters gathering in his head, then gradually dispersing to transmit information to his brain. The remainder traveled throughout his body, marking various parts like strange tattoos under his skin.
In his mind, he began hearing whispers. While listening to these incomprehensible but soothing words, a mind-shattering scream erupted. His eyes flew open in shock, but instead of seeing the cold chamber, he faced a sea of red, like being trapped in an ocean of fire or a blood vortex. His body couldn't move as slimy substances clung to him.
Darkan saw Nathan's eyes open, marked with characters, signaling the teaching process had begun. The most difficult phase had arrived.
Nathan heard his internal organs shift, but his body remained rigid. His skin felt like it was being dissolved by acid, yet he could only endure. His mind echoed with piercing screams of increasing frequency and intensity until his skull seemed ready to explode.
Then the whispers of thousands surrounded him, rotating from left to right.
"You are weak."
"You abandoned your mother."
"You were ready to abandon Jessica in that dream to return alone."
"You're using Zeryn."
"You are a fraud."
"You're using Orin."
"You're using Jessica as motivation. You're ready to abandon her at any moment."
"You give money and gifts only out of pathetic guilt."
"You do it so others see you as good."
"You act righteous to hide how petty you are."
"You're terrible, Nathan!"
"You're useless, you'll never amount to anything!"
Blood tears streamed down Nathan's face before Darkan's eyes, his body violently trembling.
"Can't handle it?" Darkan worried, but dared not interrupt. At this crucial moment, intervention would only make things worse.
Nathan's inner world was hell itself. His lucidity hung by a thread. Everything was being devoured by these caustic accusations. He truly felt their truth, as they dredged up the filth from the depths of his soul—the dirt he'd always felt within himself.
As darkness threatened to consume him, that thread quivered, emanating a wave that sparked a counterattack.
I am who I am.
Triggered [Self-Emotional Support]. One credit given.
I never thought I was a good person. I only tried to be better. And that's what matters most.
His clarity grew stronger, pushing back against the condemning voices.
So what if he was pathetic? Only by living could he have a chance to improve. So what if he used others? Everyone relied on someone else. So what if he was fraudulent? When truth offered no help at all.
But when thoughts of weakness and his mother surfaced, rage ignited. He never asked to come to this world. Being thrown here was torture enough. Every day spent worrying had left his mind perpetually on the edge of collapse. Now, with darkness pressing in from all sides, he couldn't take it anymore.
He wanted to lash out.
He wanted to explode.
He roared.
Darkan instantly channeled mana to his hands as Nathan's bestial roar filled the chamber.
"Next step! Don't give up, kid!"
He wanted to stand but the viscous substances immobilized him. Fire erupted around him. Blood rose like a tide threatening to drown him.
He gritted his teeth, straining with every ounce of strength, ignoring the pain wracking his body.
Outside, blue veins bulged from Nathan's head to toe, signaling to Darkan that physical transformation had begun. When stretched too far, blood vessels burst, spraying fine red lines. His face contorted but remained determined, unyielding.
Nathan gradually felt power gathering in his feet and channeled everything downward. His rage burned hotter than his surroundings. He wanted to escape, to destroy everything, to crush any obstacle in his path. He would advance powerfully, crushing any opponent who dared resist.
His back seemed to expand, tearing through blood and fire chains, clearing a path for mighty shoulders to rise. His arms reached forward. Pure rage as fuel, empowering him to shred all barriers.
He finally stood, throwing his head back in a roar. He was free.
Darkan flinched at that roar. It carried an ancient power—an invisible pressure from higher bloodlines to lower ones. It affected his own bloodline, no ordinary one as it had helped him overcome this skill's trial. He felt called to arms, his blood boiling like an eager soldier awaiting orders.
Still confused, he watched Nathan's exterior transform.
"The final step," Darkan said breathlessly.
Nathan's entire body expanded as if being inflated. Muscles became firm and full. His skeletal structure changed, making him taller, larger, more intimidating. His face turned fierce as he bared his teeth, spittle flying. His skin turned bright red, glowing as if flames moved beneath.
Nathan stood, clothes in tatters, hair standing on end, eyes a realm of darkness. A terrifying creation.
"The next Berserker," Darkan trembled with pride and joy.
But things didn't stop there. Nathan shook, seemingly about to shatter.
"What's happening?" Darkan panicked.
He didn't know whether to intervene. From his experience, when the Berserker form first appeared after physical torment, one would faint from the overwhelming first-time pressure. Physical Cultivation had to reach Tier 1 to maintain it briefly. Nathan's situation was unprecedented in his master's records. The inner sect elder became flustered as Nathan lifted his foot.
His stomp created cracks in the floor, shock waves rippling outward.
"Such power," Darkan couldn't believe his eyes.
Starting from his feet, Nathan's red skin transformed into dark gray. It spread to his stomach, then chest and head. Finally, a small rock protrusion emerged from his chest, spreading into hard armor covering him.
"Dragon scales?" Darkan wondered.
But he immediately dismissed the thought. Nathan's skin had hardened, but showed no draconic signs. Darkan had wrestled dragons before; his disciple's scent was completely different.
It's even more superior, Darkan could only sense.
Nathan, lost to consciousness, didn't see the system notification.
[Titan's Descendant]'s hidden effect unlocked.
Titan's Berserker State: when in Berserker state, the immense power of a true Titan will be bestowed upon you.
The transformation completed as Nathan's hair became jagged stone spikes. He roared again. This time, it made Darkan's blood boil, almost triggering his own Berserker state.
Rather than fear, he looked at Nathan like a treasure. And that treasure paid him no mind, throwing a punch his way.
Laughing loudly, Darkan raised his bare hand to block. The impact created successive explosions. Cold air rushed outward. The diamond-shaped stone shattered into fragments on the ground.
"Alaric, stay out of this!" Darkan roared, sensing the sect leader's presence outside.
"What's happening?" Alaric's voice carried irritation.
Nathan attacked again, and Darkan indulged him.
"Final stage, Alaric," Darkan said joyfully. "The kid's truly a gift."
"You're not harming the boy, are you?"
"If I lie, I'll follow your orders, alright?"
Hearing this, Alaric questioned no further.
Darkan returned his attention to his disciple. He couldn't hide his surprise and joy at Nathan's performance. The punches felt like mosquito bites to Darkan, but the strength already reached Tier 2 of the Physical Cultivator path. Considering Nathan currently stood at Tier 1 Phase 1 of Physical Cultivation, he could strike an entire major realm above his cultivation. A Tier 1 with Tier 2 destructive power.
Normally, such results would be impossible. The Berserker state wasn't meant for casual use. But it would serve as a trump card for survival. Imagining him reaching Tier 5 while possessing Tier 6 combat ability made Darkan swell with pride. Nathan would bring glory to the Physical Cultivation path.
To ensure his precious disciple didn't overexert himself and develop unexpected symptoms, Darkan swung his hand, striking the back of Nathan's head. The nearly three-meter-tall body collapsed without resistance.
Nathan's body deflated like a balloon, shrinking back to his original height. Tattered clothes left him naked on the cold floor.
Darkan lifted him, smiling continuously. Remembering yesterday's words, he shook his head and spoke aloud.
"You're not the worst, Nathan. You're the best of all!"
Then he slung him over his shoulder and carried him out.
As they left, Darkan collected a sample of Nathan's blood. Despite his excitement over today's results, he hadn't forgotten to consider potential risks and benefits. If Nathan's bloodline brought trouble, he would protect him. Once someone walked the path of the Berserker, they would always be sheltered by other members.
Stepping through the door, Darkan's next task was to prepare for the hell training.