[Location: Ghosthollow – South Quarry Training Grounds][Time: Day Phase – Pale Sunlight Conditions]
[Sparring Session: Initiated by External Challenger]
[Warning: Opponent Soul Class – Unknown (Above Host)][Victory Probability: < 4%][System Override: Observation Mode Engaged]
The training ground smelled like burnt stone and sweat.
Ren stood barefoot on the shattered flagstones, fingers curled tightly around his sickle. Across from him, lounging with casual arrogance, was the challenger.
A young man—barely older than Ren—draped in black Reaper silks that shimmered with protective wards. His weapon of choice was a sheathed spirit-blade so heavily sealed, it pulsed with restraint. Hair silver, eyes like dying stars. His name floated across the system like a warning flare:
[Name: Kael Vireth][Affiliation: Reaper Elite Cadre – Rank B][Soul Class: Spirit-Forged Initiate (Partial Core Awakened)][Weapon: Soulbound Sword – "Echofang"]
[Note: Known for evaluating rogue Reaper Candidates.][Known Alias: "The Laughing Guillotine"]
"Your form's sloppy," Kael said as he flexed his wrists. "Your aura control is like… a drunk spirit clawing through sewage. And you reek of Wraith-symbiosis. No offense."
Ren said nothing.
Kael smirked. "That's fine. I like strays."
He moved. Too fast.
Ren barely dodged the initial blow. The sickle met air—and Kael's boot met Ren's ribs with crushing force. He slammed into the stone with a crack. Blood spilled from his mouth.
[HP: 74%][System: Movement Analysis—Inadequate][Reaper Weapon Sync Lag: 0.42 sec]
[Opponent is not attacking to kill. He is testing.]
Ren growled. "I didn't come here to lose."
Kael appeared behind him. "Then you should've stayed dead."
The blade came next. Not drawn, but flicked in the sheath—the pressure alone split the air. Ren activated Soul Vision out of desperation. Everything slowed—
—Kael's aura burned clean, refined, disciplined. Not a hint of karmic imbalance. He was what Ren was trying to become—but with none of the pain, none of the ghosts.
Ren struck low, carving toward the thigh—
Kael let it hit.
The sickle bit flesh—then bounced off a spiritual barrier that shimmered violet and gold.
[Soul Armor Detected – Grade II][Your strike failed to penetrate essence coating.]
Then Kael's hand gripped his neck.
In one fluid movement, Ren was lifted, slammed into the stone, and held there.
"I'm not your enemy," Kael said calmly. "But you'll have a lot of those soon. Spirit Beasts. Cultivators. Reapers who don't like failures. Hell, the ghosts you drag with you might be the first to feast."
"You don't need more power. You need discipline."
Suddenly, Mourneater surged.
A low wail echoed in Ren's mind—his shadow lashed upward with a shriek.
Kael's eyes widened as a tendril of mourning essence reached for him.
He dropped Ren immediately, flipping backward into a defensive stance. His hand hovered over his sword—but he didn't draw.
"...You bound that thing?" he muttered. "Shit. You're that kind of Reaper."
Ren coughed blood, barely able to rise. "The kind who survives."
Kael didn't respond. For once, he looked serious.
"Don't rely on it. That kind of spirit feeds on your weakness. It'll rot your foundation. Use it too much—and you'll never form a proper core. You'll never ascend."
Ren spat. "I didn't ask for advice."
"No. But I'm giving it because you'll die without it."
Kael sheathed his blade.
"Get stronger, Lin Ren. You've got something twisted growing inside you. The question is whether you'll control it… or be devoured by it."
He turned to leave, pausing only to say:
"If you want to understand what a real Reaper is, come find me on the Blackwind Path when the next blood moon rises."
Ren lay there for hours. Alone. Bruised. Humiliated.
But something had changed.
Not just the pain. Not just the loss.
He had felt it. For the first time since transmigration—real power.
And it had laughed at him.
[System Update: Adaptive Combat Log Compiled][New Skill Seed: "Refined Motion – Initiated (0.3%)"][New Title Earned: "The One Who Was Spared"]
Ren closed his eyes, pain throbbing through every inch of his stolen body.
"…Good," he whispered. "If I can bleed, I can learn."