Morning came with a crimson hue, the sky still streaked with shadow.
Serena sat in quiet stillness, her body sore, her robe tattered and damp with dried blood. But her eyes… they burned with clarity.
Cassian was dead. Her system had advanced. And she was no longer just a pawn—she was becoming something else.
The next step was clear.
She needed strength. Skills. A weapon that could become an extension of her very soul.
And so, she made her way to the Valen Family's inner library.
---
The library of House Valen was vast, carved into the mountain itself, lined with ancient tomes and scrolls sealed in elemental glass. Serena had visited it often as a child, but never with purpose. Never like this.
Her steps echoed on the marble as she entered. Several cultivators looked up.
They sneered.
"Isn't that the one who failed to pass the second assessment?"
"She's still Essence Vein Stage 3, right? Why is she even here?"
"She's just a disgrace with a surname."
Their voices weren't even hushed. And the worst part? She recognized them—sons and daughters of lesser branch families, once respectful to her.
Now they spoke as if she were filth on their boots.
> ⟨Silent Core Activated. +6 Points Gained.⟩
Serena didn't flinch.
Let them talk.
Their scorn only made her system stronger. Their voices were fire feeding her storm.
She walked past them without a word, deeper into the shelves.
---
The main skill hall was segmented by weapon category: swords, spears, staffs, daggers. All meticulously curated. But the scythe section?
Nonexistent.
She searched level by level, even scanning the off-record scroll logs. Nothing.
Until… her gaze drifted to a forgotten stairwell. A narrow spiral path leading beneath the main vault. Most cultivators didn't bother going that deep—too old, too unorganized.
Dust choked the air. And yet…
Something called to her.
In the very last alcove of the lowest floor, behind shelves of outdated alchemy methods, she found it.
A single, cracked leather-bound book. Unlabeled.
But when her fingers touched its surface, the title glowed faintly in silver:
> "Scythe of the Windless Moon: Forgotten Arts of the Crescent Path."
She opened it slowly.
The diagrams were faded but clear—movements that mimicked flowing wind, strikes that used inertia and weight for overwhelming force. It wasn't brutish. It was graceful. Deadly. Silent.
The perfect weapon for one who moved in shadows.
But more than the techniques… something else resonated. A passage handwritten on the final page.
> "We, who wield the scythe, are not meant to be seen. We are storm, shadow, silence. We are death's herald. And in death, we are reborn."
Serena closed the book gently.
"I will name this path," she whispered, "and I will name myself."
She looked down at her open palm, feeling the wind stir ever so slightly around her fingers, black mist curling from her skin like smoke from a smothered flame.
"Zephyrdemon," she said. "That is who I am now."
---
As she ascended the stairs again, the sneering cultivators spotted her.
"Still empty-handed?" one jeered.
Serena paused only briefly.
"No," she said calmly. "I found exactly what I needed."
---
> ⟨System Notification: Identity Shift Registered. New alias 'Zephyrdemon' locked.⟩
⟨New Skill Branch Unlocked: Scythe Mastery (Hidden Tier – Incomplete).⟩
⟨Skill Progression: Pending weapon acquisition.⟩
⟨Silent Core Points: 28 available for conversion.⟩
She stepped out of the library with a single book in her arms—and a storm in her veins.
The blood path had begun.
And it would have no mercy.
---