Three months had passed.

Aziz hadn't wasted a single second, dedicating himself fully to the martial arts manual of the Bloodcoil Sect. His diet consisted of one black-death snake a day, and the results were undeniable. His body had transformed, gaining lean, wiry muscle, honed through constant, rigorous training. His recovery was faster than any normal human’s, making the gruelling exercises outlined in the manual somewhat bearable—if such a word could ever apply to the ruthless methods of the Bloodcoil Sect.

Master Zhang, the ancient scribe of the manual, emphasized that a disciple must memorize each verse and ingrain them into their very heart, allowing no room for weakness.

With a huff, Aziz collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He had held a handstand stance for over two hours, pushing his body to its limits. But now, finally, he was ready. Even Master Zhang, if he were still alive, would surely have been impressed by how quickly Aziz had progressed. In just a month, Aziz had met all the physical requirements needed to move to the next stage of his training. Much of this rapid advancement could be attributed to the miraculous properties of the black-death’s flesh, which seemed to enhance his strength and endurance beyond what he thought possible.

Walking over to the manual, Aziz opened it with a smile.

This is it, he thought, his heart pounding with anticipation. Before him lay the ancient technique of the Coilers, as the sect's disciples were known.

Turning to the next page, he found it—Shadow Steps, created by none other than Shadow Scales Zhang himself.

“A silent kill is much more effective than a scenic one. Why, you ask? Simple. When many see the threat that caused the demise of their comrade, they will know what manner of beast they face. But a silent kill? A traceless kill, like that of the Babylon snake in the Whakaari Desert, leaves no room for reasonable judgment. The imagination of men will have free reign as they feed their own fear, creating a monster in their minds. Something untouchable, something fast and evil. Something ungodly. To achieve such prowess, you must first learn to step as the shadows step.”

Reading the passage out loud felt like a sacred ritual, grounding Aziz in a strange sense of normalcy despite his circumstances. It was as if an invisible bond connected him to Master Zhang, a master-student relationship that provided a sliver of solace in the otherwise bleak existence he endured. Without this manual, Aziz was certain he would have lost his sanity long ago. The techniques outlined within were awe-inspiring, and he found himself reciting them in his mind for hours, memorizing each movement of the Shadow Steps with meticulous care.

***

Another week passed.

As usual, his captors dropped a pouch of rations into the pit. When they arrived, Aziz would curl into a ball, trying to look as feeble as possible. His appearance aided in this deception—his long, raven-black hair now reached well past his shoulders, messy and unkempt, while his skin was marred with dirt. Sometimes, the assassins who watched over him thought he was dead. On those occasions, Aziz would give a weak cough, a small signal that he was still clinging to life. It had become a twisted game for his two regulars.

The woman who had killed him before was known as Prime. From her voice alone, Aziz could tell she was beautiful—deadly beautiful, no doubt. He imagined how many men had fallen for the honeyed poison of her words. The other was Deca. Aziz remembered him the clearest. Though his memory had been fogged by sorrow at the time, he was now certain it had been Deca who had killed Mal. The two assassins seemed to have placed a wager on when Aziz would finally die. Deca would always grunt in annoyance when he saw Aziz’s twitching body lying in the pit, still alive.

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"This bastard is losing me far too much coin. I might go down there and kill him myself at this point," Deca muttered, standing over the pit, the moon high above.

Prime giggled under her mask, hooking her arm around Deca’s, who pulled away with a look of disgust. "Now, now, my dear Deca, the Grandmaster would be displeased. The rules of the Order must be followed."

Shrugging her off, Deca readjusted himself, his annoyance palpable. "I know that," he snapped, before looking back down at Aziz. "Just you wait, whelp. Let’s see how long you cling to your miserable little life."

But Aziz paid no mind to their banter. Let them laugh for now. Their time would come. For now, he needed to focus on his training. He had nearly mastered the Shadow Steps, a technique that, according to Master Zhang, took even the most diligent students a year to master. Aziz was on track to achieve it in just two months.

Looking down at his hands, he noticed the black-death wriggling in his grip, trying to free itself. He had caught this one earlier on another fishing trip. It was a smaller one this time, but it would suffice for his training.

The Bloodcoil Sect had always used snakes for training, but not just any snakes—only the most dangerous ones. Aziz tossed the black-death to the other side of the pit. It hissed, curling defensively as it hit the ground. Its purple eyes gleamed as it watched him, both man and snake locked in a silent standoff.

Aziz began to limp, feigning weakness, his breath laboured as if he were exhausted, like a deer at the end of its strength. The snake sensed his vulnerability but remained cautious, not entirely convinced. Still, it was an animal, and the prospect of an easy meal was too tempting to pass up. It slithered towards him, its forked tongue flickering as Aziz bit into his palm, using his own blood to keep its attention.

When the snake was just two meters away, Aziz recited the steps from the manual in his mind.

“Focus. Gather the internal energy, forming a string to the shadow. While moving, adjust your string, latching onto the next shadow.”

Reaching deep within himself, Aziz tapped into the only source of power he could find—the dark pool of oblivion that seemed to reside in his very core. His eyes allowed him to see the darkness of the outside world, but this inner darkness was something else entirely, something even he could not fully comprehend. At first, he hadn’t realized it was internal energy, but as he began pulling at it, the black spherical mass responded, rushing to cloak the outside world in his own man-made darkness.

As the snake drew closer, Aziz began to move. He latched onto every shadow, every absence of light, allowing his dark energy to envelop him. The pit itself was a shadow, and in the absence of light, his internal energy thrived, wrapping around him like a protective embrace.

The snake froze, its head recoiling in confusion. It was not stupid—the black-death had excellent instincts. Aziz watched it closely, stepping so near that he was only inches away from it, completely cloaked in shadow. He knelt on all fours, his purple eyes gleaming as the snake swivelled its head, searching, its tongue flicking out in vain. Aziz's face was mere inches from the serpent’s, studying the creature with a cold, calculated gaze.

Training was over now. The Shadow Steps were his. As was the snake.

In one swift motion, Aziz lunged forward, his teeth sinking into the snake’s neck. He crushed its spine in his mouth, swallowing its decapitated head in one gulp. The snake’s body continued to writhe, its last reflexes playing out, but Aziz barely noticed. His eyes burned with a fierce, purple light as he devoured the rest of the snake, savouring the taste of its blood and flesh. He left the tail intact, setting it aside as bait for his next meal.

But as he opened the snake’s belly, he found something unexpected—an egg. Raising an eyebrow, Aziz held the egg in his hands.

It was a mother, he thought. Well, not anymore.

He didn’t feel any guilt. This was the way of the world, after all. The black-death mother would have understood that. Just as he was about to flick the egg into his mouth, he noticed a small crack in the shell. The egg was hatching.

Aziz paused, his curiosity piqued. He watched as a tiny piece of the shell fell away, revealing a new born black-death, its tiny body curled within the confines of the egg. Two twilight-coloured eyes rested upon a heart-shaped head, peeked out from the hole in the shell, staring directly at Aziz, questioning him. He had just eaten its mother—by all rights, he could do whatever he pleased with the new born snake.

"You would make a good snack," Aziz said, cocking his head in wonder.

The snakelet blinked, as if surprised by the remark, then turned inside its shell, trying to avoid the hungry gaze of its captor.