"You're locked up in here again?" Chloe barged into my room without so much as a knock and parked herself on the bed like she owned the place. I was sitting on the floor, buried in a pile of books.

  I didn't even look at her. That was one of my petty little revenge tactics — and it was astonishing how easily it got under her skin. All I had to do was pointedly ignore her and she'd start simmering.

  Kids.

  "Mind if I hang out for a bit?" she asked, and only that question made me raise my eyes.

  Dull gaze. Fresh bruise on her face. A small one — she'd been smart enough to put a cold compress on it before it spread too much.

  "Your father?"

  "I fell."

  "Sure," I nodded, and didn't push it.

  This was another reason I'd changed my mind about Chloe. Things were good in my family. A hardworking, loving father. A caring mother. An older sister at Crimson Retribution Academy. But the Arli household was a different story. Three years ago, during the birth of their second child, Gleiv Arli's wife had died, leaving him alone with two kids. It broke the man. He started drinking and hitting his children. Chloe, as the older one, took the beatings for both.

  She'd teased me, mocked me, and pestered me because she needed an outlet for everything building up inside her. I hadn't liked it at the time, but now at least I understood. When I thought about it, her jabs had always been pretty mild. The stunt with Happong was the worst thing she'd ever done. She'd never actually laid a hand on me herself — just words. And apparently, my threat that day had terrified her beyond what I'd intended. She'd genuinely believed I'd kill her over some dumb teasing.

  Can't help it. I'd spent too long talking to demons.

  "If you want, you can sleep in my room tonight. Your father won't get to you here — mine won't let him."

  "No. Then he'd take it out on Yuhan."

  "I understand," I sighed.

  Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could do for her in my current state. Well — I could sneak into her father's room and slit his throat while he slept, but then what happens to Chloe and her brother? And to me? Ask my father to intervene? No, he wouldn't. He'd already tried, actually, and got a pretty vicious response. The only person who could really help was my sister, but since the fight with the Revenant I'd seen Mia exactly once. She'd mentioned being stationed somewhere up north and wouldn't be back for a while.

  The girl sat on my bed for a good twenty minutes without making a sound. For a chatterbox like her, that was an eternity. Amazing, really — with a mouth that never stopped moving, she'd somehow kept my secret about the demon.

  "Can you actually understand what's written in those?" she asked, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands.

  "More or less," I replied, making another note in my journal.

  "It's been months. Do you really believe you can restore your focus?"

  "I have no intention of giving up," I said firmly, not looking up from my research.

  "But your focus is destroyed. I've never heard of anyone creating a new one."

  "You're wrong," I shook my head and held up a hand-drawn map of meridians. "What was destroyed was my Life focus. But there are two others: Strength and Mind." I pointed to the heart and head, where I'd marked them accordingly. "The problem is that they grow from power nodes on the Meridians of True Indomitable Strength and Infinite Mind."

  "And you think you can grow a new focus in one of those?"

  "No. I couldn't grow the meridian leading to the heart. For that, you need to reach the first stage of the seventh step. For the mind — the third step."

  "Kh—" Chloe let her face drop onto the bed. But she immediately shook her dark hair and pursed her lips dismissively. "So what's the point of any of this?"

  "None. But the simple fact that you can grow a new focus from power nodes is remarkable. I've heard that from the third step onward, each new stage isn't about opening power nodes at all — it's about creating minor foci. And a master of the first step is essentially someone with no power nodes left."

  "I don't understand a word of this."

  "Look — what I'm saying is that theoretically, you can grow a focus from any power node. You just need a special technique."

  "And where would you get one?"

  "On the outer rings? Nowhere. You won't find it here, and I doubt you'd find it on the first few inner rings either."

  "Then this is a pointless conversation."

  "Not at all. I have a chance to create a new focus. A very slim one. And... risky."

  "O-o-okay... You've got my attention," Chloe said, flipping onto her back and hanging her head off the edge to stare at me upside down. "I'm listening."

  "Remember the demon I killed last year?"

  "Brr... Of course I remember! How could I forget?" She paused. "By the way... would you really have killed me if I'd talked?"

  "What do you think?" I smiled gently.

  The girl flinched, sat bolt upright, and hugged herself with a shiver.

  "So what about the demon?"

  "I cut out its core. It's hidden in the woods right now."

  "Oh... That's creepy. I hope it won't regenerate from it."

  "No. It won't."

  "Good to hear. So what about the core?"

  "I'm going to absorb it."

  Chloe's eyes went round and the color drained from her face.

  "But that's... forbidden. Those are dark arts. Demonic. They're dangerous and—"

  "Without them, I'd be in hell right now, Chloe. I know it scares you, but this is my only shot. A demonic focus forms higher than the Life focus — right here, near the liver."

  "Oh..."

  "It has its own meridians, similar to normal ones, but they fill with a different energy."

  "You want to become a demonic master?"

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  "On the upper rings, that's suicide. Every signal artifact in the area would detect my energy instantly. And even if I lived like some demonic cultist, I wouldn't get far — there's almost no demonic energy up here."

  "Then I really don't understand."

  "I'll create the focus, then drain it. Wring out every last drop. And in that moment, I fill it with Spiral energy."

  "Is that actually possible?"

  "In theory. The problem is the practice. None of the scholars who wrote these books seem to have ever touched demonic arts. But this one here —" I held up a volume and showed it to her — "says that structurally, demonic and spiral meridians are identical. They flow along different paths, but I'm perfectly capable of fusing them. The only thing is..."

  "Only what?"

  "Never mind," I waved it off, deciding the girl didn't need to know.

  The problem was that in that case, I'd lose the ability to use demonic techniques. I'd been counting on the technique of true balance of power, but that existed to equalize energy between two separate foci. I didn't want to completely give up demonic techniques — they were supposed to be my trump card down the line.

  Chloe shrugged.

  "Fine. Don't tell me if you don't want to," she said with a slight edge of hurt, but I wasn't five years old enough to fall for manipulation that basic. "Have you thought about dyeing it, by the way?"

  With the last question, she reached out and touched my hair. I jerked my head away in irritation.

  "I'm fine the way I am. Why, you don't like it?"

  "I actually do, but the other kids on the street call you the white psycho behind your back."

  "I don't care what they call me," I shrugged.

  The hair. Right. A side effect of the burned-out meridians — it had gone completely white. So now I was walking around town with a head of snow-white hair. Doctor Wei had said the color might return with age, but in the months since, not a single dark strand had appeared.

  "Well, if you think about it, I'm your only friend. You never play with us. Although Happong keeps saying he's going to beat you up one of these days. I tell him he's an idiot and he should leave you alone."

  "For his own good," I nodded. My body was still fairly strong, and I trained my coordination and sharpened my movements regularly. If he thought he could lay a finger on me a year after my reincarnation, he was deeply mistaken.

  "Exactly. Reckoning Day is tomorrow. You going to the festival?"

  I grimaced. For obvious reasons, it was the most hated holiday of my life.

  "Not sure."

  "Afraid the Eternal will say your name again?"

  "Fear isn't the emotion I'd use," I said dryly. "It's just not a celebration for me. Imagine if the festival was held to commemorate the day your mother died."

  Chloe flinched and went dark.

  "Now you understand?"

  "Yeah..."

  "Good."

  Despite what I'd said, I went to the festival anyway. Mom and Dad insisted, said I'd been spending way too much time with books lately, and threatened to stop buying me anything if I refused.

  I had to meet them halfway. After all, they really had shelled out to buy all those medical texts. Mia had chipped in too, probably out of guilt over what happened, but I didn't blame her for anything. She'd done what was right, and I'd done what I had to. Everything else was irrelevant.

  I was alive. And even if I'd lost my focus and meridians, this wasn't the end for me. Two hundred years in hell had taught me a great deal, and I intended to use every bit of that knowledge when the time came. For now, I had the chance to enjoy some peaceful days. Lords knew I'd desperately needed them.

  This time I was back on Dad's shoulders. He liked carrying me that way for some reason, and I didn't object — just watched the crowd with detachment. Fewer people this year. Apparently Governor Akhon hadn't graced our little town with his presence.

  On the way, Dad bought me a honey lollipop, and I savored every bit of it. Sweets and good food were among the things I'd missed most in hell. The food down there was garbage, and climbing the warrior hierarchy in Ramuil's domain hadn't really fixed that. Most demons ate their meat raw, considering cooking a waste of time. The condemned were fed no better than pigs — revolting, half-rotten slop.

  I remembered that after being reborn and killing the gatekeeper, I'd stuffed myself with every treat I could find for weeks. Though I didn't overdo it. Indulgence needs limits. I'd seen too many of Ramuil's warriors let themselves go with drink and women, losing their edge and their strength. I'd personally killed several of those — men who'd thought themselves untouchable.

  That felt like a lifetime ago.

  "Your mom says you've been getting along with Chloe. I thought she used to bother you," Dad said suddenly.

  "She did."

  "I'm glad you two are getting along. Friends are important."

  Sure. Especially when you're bonded by a secret, the revealing of which would've gotten her killed. Although... I wasn't so sure about that anymore. But back then, a year ago, I wouldn't have hesitated for a second.

  There was still some time before the ceremony, and Dad tried his best to cheer me up — street magicians, performers — but couldn't coax a single smile out of me. I'd seen too much in my life for any of this to bring real joy.

  He also tried to spin last year's incident into a funny anecdote — the Eternal calling my name, ha ha, isn't that wild — presumably to reassure and amuse me. It only annoyed me. But I wasn't going to show it. He was probably trying to calm himself more than me. Understandable, given last year's events. There was a definite nervousness in him.

  Then the bell rang, announcing the start of the day's main event. Instead of the governor, this time the speech came from the town magistrate, Mr. Dinrim. It was every bit as boring as the governor's had been. The crowd disagreed, naturally, and cheered enthusiastically.

  The only thing on my mind as I watched the man was: was he in on it? From Ramuil, I'd learned that the people the demons took weren't criminals deserving punishment — they were sacrifices, fuel for growing the Sphere of Eternity. The sphere was essentially the same kind of stone I'd swallowed, except instead of holding dozens or hundreds of lives, it probably contained millions. Ramuil had spent thousands of years forming it. And the Eternals only named people who lived in or near the area. How many towns like ours were there? Thousands? More? Ten people from each, every year — that was tens of thousands of lives at minimum. Over millennia...

  But I was getting sidetracked. The Lords, whatever divine powers people attributed to them, were warriors of the Spiral just like those students standing front and center before the tribune, waiting for the Lords' golem to call their names. They'd simply reached the limit. Become masters of the first step — the pinnacle of martial arts. They weren't gods. They didn't see everything, despite popular belief. They could fly, could wipe Daiward off the map with a flick of a finger — but they weren't omniscient or omnipresent. So where did they get the names of the condemned? The most logical answer: the town magistrate. He compiles a list and hands it to the Lords' envoy.

  A time would come when he and I would have that conversation. But not now. Not yet.

  "Maybe next year your sister will be among them," Dad said, and his voice had a strange quality. On one hand, he wanted Mia to reach her full potential, to break past being a practitioner stuck at the third stage. On the other, the very thought of her leaving for the inner rings frightened him.

  "Even if she is, she won't go to the inner rings."

  "She said that herself?" he asked immediately. Had they really never discussed this with her? Were they afraid to ask?

  But we were interrupted. The Eternal began solemnly reading the aspirants' names. Unlike the condemned, there was no fixed number — it was generally believed the Eternals selected only those who could truly survive the trials on the other side.

  This year there were more. Fifteen. But the real question was how many would actually dare step through to the other side of the mountain range. Last year, only five had gone. The rest chose to stay. And honestly, it wasn't much of a loss. The cowards were still honored here — the Lords had recognized them, after all — and cushy positions awaited. Guards, watchmen, orders. But to me, they were weaklings who'd traded power for a comfortable life on the outer rings.

  There's nothing wrong with weakness itself. Mia didn't chase power and had a clear-eyed view of her abilities. What irritated me was the reverence shown to those who stayed. If they'd been treated like ordinary practitioners, I wouldn't have said a word. Everyone chooses their own path. But some of them refused specifically because they didn't want hardship. They wanted to settle down somewhere people would bow and worship them, and the only reason for that worship was that they'd gotten lucky and "pleased" the Lords' golem.

  Over the past year — a year I'd actually lived consciously — I'd seen a few of them. They wore dragons on their sleeves as tradition dictated, and most of them were smug bastards who treated everyone around them as beneath basic courtesy. Fortunately, none of them lived in Daiward — they were just passing through on their way to the capital from the southern territories.

  Actually, I was wrong. There was one dragon-wearer among us. The butcher. Happong's father. The same man who'd made my parents grovel last year. But in his defense, it wasn't his fault he'd stayed. Chloe had told me he'd gotten drunk and picked a fight with another warrior. Lost a leg in the brawl. They'd managed to reattach it, but recovery took too long and came with complications — he still limped — so he'd missed his chance.

  But my thoughts were interrupted by the Eternal's voice, beginning to read the list of the condemned. Ten names rang out, and I didn't recognize a single one. Dad exhaled with relief.

  Too soon, as it turned out. Something unprecedented happened that day. For the first time ever, the Eternal spoke an eleventh name.

  "Nathaniel Crane."

  "You steel bitch," I couldn't help myself, lips stretching into a vicious grin.

  So the Eternal wasn't going to leave me alone. If I killed the gatekeeper again this time, was she going to call my name every single year?

  "Didn't she already finish the list?"

  "Why are there more than ten condemned?"

  "Crane... Wasn't that name called last year too?"

  The crowd around me was confused. This had never happened before, and they didn't know how to react.

  Unlike me.