The orphanage children, newly rich in real meat and cheese thanks to Elisha, celebrated with a nervous energy that belied the splinters in the yard. Mikael, his mood swinging between gruff relief and simmering fury over Lirian's memory, scrubbed a rusty pot near the crumbling kitchen wall.
Before the morning meal, while the dust of Radom was still chilled with dew, the children had resumed their daily drill. This time, however, two figures stood apart, their movements sharp and purposeful.
"Well, Elisha, let's see how much you've improved," Myra said, her voice light, though her eyes were serious. She wore a simple, light tunic suitable for combat.
The younger children watched in awe; they rarely saw their gentle and strict big sister adopt such a heroic stance.
Elisha, twelve years old and radiating focus, met her gaze. A tiny bead of sweat tracked his temple. He knew Myra was a formidable opponent; she was the sweet-tempered protector of the orphanage, but he knew that across the border, she was known by the chilling moniker: "The Red Demoness" of the Frontier.
Elisha surged forward with breathtaking speed.
The children barely registered his movement before he was upon Myra, launching a torrent of claw-like strikes—over fifteen powerful blows per second.
Myra, a Centurion of Level 42, remained utterly impassive. She swayed, ducked, and tilted her head, dodging Elisha's furious barrage with effortless grace.
"Elisha, please. This is barely a warm-up," Myra said, a faint smile touching her lips. She finally raised a hand and launched a precise, knife-hand strike at him.
Elisha reacted instantly, dissolving into a shimmering . He reappeared several meters away, breathing heavily. Though he had evaded the core blow, a line of blood traced across his chest where her Qi had grazed him, tearing the fabric of his shirt.
"Sister Myra, please, it seems you want to kill me!" Elisha managed, forcing a grin.
Without waiting for a response, he vanished again, reappearing high above Myra. He drove his leg downward, using gravity's weight to make the kick descend like an axe. Two spiralling white Qi snakes, the symbol of his Grandmaster-level energy, coiled around his attacking limb.
Myra, however, did not retreat. She planted her left leg firmly—a mountain of stability—and drove her right leg skyward.
Her countering kick was surrounded by a halo of pale blue Qi. The two powerful attacks collided with a shockwave that threw up dust.
BAAAM!
Elisha lost the exchange entirely, skidding backwards several meters before tumbling onto his back. He lay there, panting, a mix of awe and frustration on his face.
"Wow. Sister Myra is still the strongest," Elisha conceded.
The children erupted in cheers.
Myra walked over, effortlessly composed. "You've done well for yourself this year, Elisha. Level 29 TAO Grandmaster, nearing the threshold of Praetorian. Your strikes are hard, sudden, and carry a wild edge—a normal warrior under Level 35 would struggle to defend against you.” Then she changed her tone, “However, your defence is still too open. You attack without a clear objective in mind. You must focus your force better, or a clever opponent will easily counter and defeat you."
Myra’s counsel was interrupted by the sight of a courier, signalling the noble party's arrival in half a month. That was all the time they had for their preparations.
Mikael grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Corina’s girl," he muttered, the words like gravel. “Old Man Corina’s youngest. A spoiled heiress hunting a flower for some trinket or cure, I suppose.”
“She’s not spoiled, Father,” Elisha corrected, carefully wrapping a leftover piece of dried venison. “Julieta is… . She’s used to the best, but she’s eight, and she’s brought her own entourage, plus a personal guide. I’m just the local contact who knows the Radon Woods.”
Mikael nodded, his eyes distant. He needed to use this time wisely.
His gaze settled on Silvestre, who was still puffing his chest like a victorious rooster.
“Silvestre,” Mikael barked. “Get over here, you fat lump.”
Silvestre lumbered closer, half-afraid, half-glowing with pride. “Y-Yes, Father?”
“You’ve stepped into Master,” Mikael said bluntly. “Not because you’re clever. Not because you’re fast. Because your body is built like a damn warehouse.”
Silvestre blinked. “Is… that good?”
“It means Qi sticks to you,” Mikael continued. “Muscle, fat, bone—you store it whether you want to or not. That’s a gift. It’s also useless without direction.”
He seized Silvestre’s right forearm.
“Listen carefully,” Mikael said. “Every human has forty-seven Acupoints. Ten in each limb, seven in the head. Think of them as gates. Closed gates do nothing. Open gates let Qi pass—but uncontrolled, they’ll tear you apart.”
Silvestre swallowed.
“Core Meridians are the roads,” Mikael went on. “Earth. Fire. Wind. Water, the rest of the elements. One road at a time. Four Acupoints per road, maximum. That’s how the body becomes stronger. You miss one Acupoint when opening a new Meridian. The link is lost forever”
Mikael’s thumb pressed down.
Silvestre screamed.
Qi surged violently as Mikael forced a thread of his own energy into the faint, dormant point buried deep in Silvestre’s flesh.
“There,” Mikael snapped. “Feel that?”
“It—IT FEELS LIKE MY ARM IS BEING CRUSHED—”
“That’s the gate opening,” Mikael said coldly. “If you can’t endure that, you’ve no business touching power.”
The pressure eased.
Silvestre collapsed to one knee, panting, sweat pouring off him.
“Now,” Mikael said, stepping back, “that Acupoint is linked to your Earth Meridian. One gate. One road. That’s all you get for now.”
He demonstrated a short, brutal motion—no flourish, no wasted movement.
“Qi Techniques live in Acupoints,” Mikael said. “Not in imagination. Not in shouting. This one is—”
He slammed his fist down.
“
The ground .
All your stored Qi, released through one point. You use it once, maybe twice. After that, you’re empty.”
Silvestre tried it.
The impact cracked the packed earth and sent pain screaming up both arms.
He howled—and then laughed, delirious with pride.
“GOOD,” Mikael barked. “That’s what a Technique feels like. Pain first. Pride later.”
Mikael explained the core of TAO application: "Remember. Acupoints give you the cutting edge, but they're hard to sense and even harder to link. You've linked a Strength Acupoint to your Earth Meridian, which means every time you use this technique, it will hit with the immovable force of a mountain. Use it sparingly, and focus on the connection."
Silvestre nodded and beamed.
“Remember, Silvestre. Don’t you ascend Rank before linking all four Acupoints. Each Acupoint is different and will give you different edges. Normally, people don’t know what each specific Acupoint do, or how to link them properly. But you have me, so you won’t go astray.”
Next, Mikael took Nerion aside, Elisha joining them with a look of concern.
"I've been thinking about what to teach you, runt," Mikael began, his tone severe. "Your body is too small, five years old, and your Qi is inferior to your siblings'. Silvestre can handle a basic Qi technique because his Earth Meridian will provide stability. You have no such fortune."
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"Father, please! I promise I can handle it!" Nerion pleaded, dreading the possibility of being left out.
Mikael sighed, a decision made. "I will show you a technique, pipsqueak. Only three times. If you grasp anything at all, it's yours. Otherwise, you forget it until you are older and stronger."
Mikael moved to a towering boulder several meters high and wide near the Radon Woods' edge. He began a slow, circular movement with his hands, his face utterly serene.
A gentle, cool breeze wafted toward Nerion.
"P-P-P-Pardon me, Father," Nerion stammered, utterly bewildered. "What kind of technique is this? Are you trying to fan air at people so they take pity on us?"
Mikael's eye twitched. He struck Nerion lightly on the back of the head. "That was your first chance, runt. Two more times. If you fail to notice anything, you have no fate with this technique."
Nerion rubbed his head, feeling wronged, but focused intently. Mikael adopted the posture again. This time, Nerion noticed a subtle, flowing energy wave along Mikael's arms. As Mikael's hands converged, the energy spiralled into an invisible whirlpool—a cluster of compressed Qi and ambient Natural Energy—before Mikael softly pushed his hands forward, touching the boulder with an almost gentle push.
Nerion stared at the rock. Nothing happened.
"You dirty old man! The technique doesn't work! Teach me something useful!" Nerion shouted, incensed.
Mikael sighed. "That was number two."
"Stop, Father, please stop!" Nerion begged, fear mixing with desperation. "I think I saw something around your hands, but I still can't understand the meaning behind the movements. At least explain what you're trying to accomplish!"
"That's for you to discover," Mikael said. Nerion ran to the boulder, flailing his arms in frustration. "Look, Father! Silvestre's training left cracks on the ground! That's a strong technique! But what did do?"
As Nerion's arm inadvertently brushed the boulder, a sound split the air:
The entire boulder suddenly fractured, riddled with cracks like a broken mirror. A moment later, it crumbled entirely into a pile of fine dust, coating Nerion's amazed, grime-streaked face.
Mikael stared back, genuinely surprised. "Alright. I'll teach you something else. Maybe this technique is unworthy of a genius such as yourself."
Nerion laughed sheepishly, rushing back to his father. "Father, how can you say that? From the very beginning, I knew just how awesome you were! Please, show it to me one more time!"
Mikael, unable to resist the brat’s thick skin, repositioned himself. Nerion focused intensely, silently activating his Ocular Acupoints. His eyes flashed golden for a split second, and he saw the movement of the Qi in Mikael's arms—guiding the Natural Energy, spiralling it centripetally into a single, unstable point. He realized the residual energy, though mostly dispersed, had enough destabilizing force to shatter the internal structure of the rock.
Nerion subconsciously imitated the movements. The energy around him actually began to spiral. He succeeded—until his hands came together, and his focus broke. The energy dispersed. He pushed his hands forward, fanning only air.
"Wow, Father, that technique is awesome!" Nerion said, panting, exhausted by the sheer focus required.
"It's called ," Mikael explained, his voice serious.
"It's not about forcing your will like a Warrior or bending nature's will like a Magus. It's about all-encompassing balance. It's a Qi technique that feels like Mana. Lose the balance between inner Qi and outer Energy, and you look like an idiot. You must touch the enemy to transfer the energy, and it must be done in one swift move."
____
For the next few days, Nerion trained the move obsessively, but to no avail.
He couldn't replicate the energy accumulation.
Elisha, seeing his frustration, taught him a simple TAO movement technique for speed and evasion. After a discussion with Mikael, he thought that forbidding Nerion from using his Acupoints entirely would be a mistake. The lad needed a way to vent; otherwise, he would grow more reckless.
So, they decided to help him focus on a single Acupoint in the sole of the feet.
Nerion was delighted by this. He mastered the technique to a small degree in just four days, getting him ready for the mission. Until he could open a Core Meridian, his mastery would be incomplete.
But for now, it was enough.
___
The day of the Corina's arrival was upon them. Myra and Nerion were in Radom’s small market, buying fresh fruit from Grandmother Cynthia’s stall, a rare treat for the orphanage.
CLOP, CLOP, CLOP!
“What is that noise?” Nerion wondered. A massive dust cloud rose from the main road, followed by shouts. The silver-and-blue carriage of House Corina and its escort, galloping at full speed, burst into the market street. They cut a swath directly down the middle, destroying several stalls. People shrieked and were thrown aside, some injured. The town guard watched, paralysed by fear.
Grandmother Cynthia, a fragile old woman, froze, petrified. Nerion moved instantly, tackling the old woman and dragging her across the street. Though he saved her life, she suffered bruises and a minor head injury.
Nerion looked at the trail of devastation. His fists clenched white, his teeth grinding. He had never felt such consuming, protective rage.
The carriage and riders thundered past and arrived minutes later at the orphanage gate, where Elisha was waiting for them.
The Captain, Lykos, and the rest of the guards did not dismount. The only person to step down was the gentlemanly, severe-looking butler, Mr. Manke, a tall and elegant middle-aged man, with silver sideburns. He wore an expression of subtle distress.
“Mr. Manke. It is a pleasure to receive you,” Elisha said, bowing slightly. “I had the impression we would meet at the edge of the woods. I apologise if we caused you to come all the way here.”
“Young man, we are ahead of schedule,” Manke replied, his voice thin. “The flower is vital to Lord Corina. We rely on you to find it quickly.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Manke. I am confident we will succeed,” Elisha responded, his tone polite but firm. “My younger brother, Nerion, will join us. He is highly trained and knows the local flora and fauna intimately.”
“Your brother?” snapped Captain Lykos, a TAO Legate, his voice sharp. “That was not in the arrangement! Is this an attempt to increase your price?”
Lykos’s gaze was hard, his Level 55 Qi pressing down on Elisha. Elisha stood tall, showing no hint of subservience.
At the same moment, Myra and Nerion arrived with the injured Grandmother Cynthia.
When Nerion saw the carriage and the mounted guards, his fury boiled over. He pointed a trembling finger at the convoy.
“DEGENERATES!” Nerion shouted. “Do you ride horses with your eyes closed, or do you just hate old people?”
Lykos’s gaze sharpened. “You dare—”
“You didn’t even slow down,” Nerion continued, voice shaking now. “You didn’t look. You just went through.”
That gave Lykos pause. Only for a brief moment.
Soon, he recovered, his face a mask of cold contempt. “Kael, teach this little idiot a lesson in deference. That will teach you not to point a finger a people above your station.”
Kael, the vice-captain and a Centurion, immediately drew his sword and advanced toward Nerion. Elisha and Myra instantly flared their Qi, shifting their stances to intercept.
Kael, advancing, froze mid-step. He hadn't received a counter-order, but a sudden, ancient, and terrifying pressure settled on his spine—a sensation of power so vast and cold it felt like the gaze of a Beast Lord. His hand trembled on his sword hilt. He didn't know where the menace came from, only that if he took another step, he would die. No one else seemed to notice the ambient pressure.
The tension was cut by the carriage door opening again. Julieta Anniana De Corina stepped out. She was beautiful, with hair the colour of spun gold and profound green eyes, her expression composed—not angry, not curious. Merely inconvenienced.
Her gaze passed over the injured townsfolk without lingering, as if they were weather damage.
“To whom,” she asked calmly, “was that outburst directed?”
“You stupid, ugly girl!” Nerion shouted, ignoring the immediate threat. “You and your guards are lowlifes! How could you gallop through the market, destroying everything and hurting people? Look at Grandmother Cynthia!”
Julieta stiffened. Not in anger. Worse. In offence.
Unaware of the high-level Qi war, she spoke again: “Must I request permission to use the roads? Captain Lykos, report what occurred.”
“Report to Lady Julieta: We were following your orders to proceed with maximum celerity, without deviation. The market stalls were obstructing the road, an inexplicable act of poor governance. Since we could not deviate, we proceeded through the street. It appears some people were not cautious enough,” Lykos said, his tone flat and unrepentant.
Julieta nodded. “Destroying the belongings of commoners is beneath the dignity of House Corina. That being said, your actions, little beggar, are inexcusable.”
Julieta tilted her head slightly. “Captain Lykos, what is the standard corrective measure for public insult?”
Lykos hesitated. “Ten strikes, my Lady.”
“Then apply it,” Julieta said at once. Then, more sharply, “Quietly. I dislike disorder.”
Nerion, trembling with fury, was about to explode again when Minas Tarin, the Mayor, stepped forward, his face grave, and offered a deep, respectful bow toward the carriage.
“Greetings, esteemed guests. My name is Minas Tarin, and I am the Mayor of Radom. We are honoured by your visit. I must apologise if our bustling market caused any inconvenience. However, I fear we have inadvertently caused harm. Several citizens are injured, and their livelihoods ruined. We humbly ask for clemency for the boy, who spoke with a youthful passion that sometimes exceeds good sense. We only wish to assure our citizens that reparations will be sought.”
The Legate’s face darkened, recognising the subtle, official challenge to Corina's authority.
The tension was broken by a sudden, raucous intervention. Mikael, clad in rags, stumbled from the orphanage, hiccuping loudly.
“Hiccup… Minas, old fox, what’s this commotion? Old Cynthia, have you fallen out of bed again? Happens to us old folks!” Mikael babbled, completely ignoring the guards and the carriage.
Manke, the butler, stepped forward, his face troubled. He stared at the drunken beggar, a flicker of uneasy recognition passing over his sharp eyes. This man’s features, though ruined by liquor and age, stirred a deep, cold memory Manke couldn't immediately place.
Julieta, thoroughly disgusted, snapped: “Now a drunkard. Manke, resolve this instantly. I will not stand here with this rabble any longer.”
Manke regained his composure instantly. “Captain Lykos, stand down! The Lady ordered to resolve the situation, not escalate it.”
Manke then made a profound bow to the Mayor and the crowd. “Mayor Tarin, Madame Cynthia, this has been a terrible misunderstanding. The Captain was overly zealous in executing the Lady’s request for speed. Lady Julieta is profoundly sorry. We will cover the expenses for all necessary repairs and medical costs. Please accept this card from the Mint House. It allows you to withdraw one hundred and fifty gold coins at any branch in the continent.”
Julieta waved a hand. “If compensation satisfies them, then compensate them. That shows our maganimity.” She looked bored. “Ensure the road remains clear next time.”
“Magnani-what?” Nerion asked, his anger dissipating into curiosity over the big word. “But… they apologised, and we must forgive, Sister Myra says so!” Nerion beamed.
Julieta rounded on him, incredulous. “ forgive ? And what good is an ignorant little child to us in the Woods?”
“Who asked you, ugly girl?” Nerion retorted. “My brother asked me to help, and if your penguin servant hadn't apologised, I'd watch you fail to find your flower.”
Julieta’s jaw tightened. She did not look at him again.
Mikael, leaning heavily on the Mayor, managed a slurred laugh, but inside, his mind was racing, cold and clear. . More damning was the face of Kael, the Centurion. Mikael had caught the briefest glimpse of Kael’s silver ring—the Templo sigil split by a curved scythe. This… the conspiracy wasn't distant; it was seated in the carriage next to Nerion.
Mikael gave Mayor Tarin a wink. “You see, Minas? All resolved! You’re buying the ale tonight!” Mikael managed, before stumbling off toward the centre of town.
Elisha, Nerion, Lykos, Kael, and Manke mounted their horses and disappeared toward the Radon Woods.