The moon hung high in the sky, its silver glow bathing the land in ghostly silence. In the training grounds behind the guild base, Zairon stood alone, shirtless and covered in sweat, breathing heavily.
A swirl of energy danced around him—raw, volatile, radiant.
The slash he'd been crafting was nearly complete.
"One strike," he muttered, raising his hand. A spiritual blade formed from sheer will and energy, shimmering like a fractured mirror. "One slash that reaps hundreds. That carves open the world like paper. That embodies... me."
With a breath, he stepped forward—
Swoooosh—!
The slash tore through the air, a crescent wave of condensed energy ripping through the training dummies, boulders, and the cliff wall behind them. The explosion echoed for miles, a miniature tempest erupting at the impact point.
Silence.
Then… Zairon grinned, stretching his arms like a man satisfied after a feast.
"Sovereign Slash. Sounds about right."
The system dinged softly:
Technique Created: Sovereign Slash (Level 1) Area-of-effect energy blade. Damage scales with cultivation rank and spirit reserves. Upgrade with EXP or mastery.
Zairon cracked his knuckles. "Perfect."
Later that night, lying atop the roof of the still-being-renovated guild base, he looked up at the stars.
"I have an army… kind of. But not the gang yet. Not my gang."
He tapped his chin.
"Let's set some goals."
He opened the system screen, displaying his current stats and next level requirement:
Next Rank: C EXP Required: 1,000,000 Current EXP: 800
Zairon snorted. "A million, huh? That's… not small."
He did a quick mental calculation.
"Let's say a D-Rank monster gives 1,000 EXP… that's a thousand monsters. Or a few dozen C-Ranks if I can find them. Hah. Sounds like fun."
He smirked, rolling over onto his side.
"But first… tomorrow's raid. We test Sovereign Slash. We test the Legion."
His eyes sparkled with wild ambition.
"Then, we expand. More warriors. More supporters. An underground network. Recruitment cells. Spies, assassins, transporters, informants, enforcers... Every city under my influence."
He imagined himself standing atop a blood-soaked battlefield, surrounded by flags bearing his symbol, the world bowing as he walked by.
"How would it feel to be the absolute figure?"
He paused—then grinned madly.
"Just thinking about it makes me want to laugh—"
And then he did laugh. Loud, manic, unfiltered.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
His voice echoed into the night.
Somewhere far away, someone surely felt a chill.