Sylus's eyes glowed faintly as he watched Jiyul's cold figure. The silence between them stretched until Sylus finally spoke.
"Well then," his voice was calm, but sharp like steel. "If you change your mind and wish to control your powers… meet me here. I will be waiting."
Jiyul's lips curved into a faint smile, the kind that carried both pride and mockery. "That day won't come."
With those words, he turned his back on them. His steps were slow, steady, and fearless. He walked as if the ground itself obeyed him. The cave seemed to bend around his presence.
Zekiel did not move. His eyes followed Jiyul like a shadow, but his mouth held no words.
Sylus, though, felt something strange something deep in his chest. His smile never left his face, but his thoughts whispered: If he is not the one… then his head will hang on the walls of my clan.
Jiyul passed between them like a king walking through loyal subjects, yet he acknowledged neither of them. His figure, dripping wet and lit by the torches, carried a weight that made even gods uneasy.
At last, he reached the end of the cave, where the waterfall poured endlessly. The entrance was nothing but water, shining silver under the night. Jiyul stopped there, inhaling deeply. The smell of rain and earth filled his lungs.
In front of him, water thundered down like a curtain hiding the world.
Jiyul smiled faintly. Without hesitation, he jumped forward, merging with the rushing water.
The cold wrapped around him, but when he broke through the fall, a fresh world opened. Mist covered the ground, clouds pressed low above the mountains, and a soft rain fell from the sky. He stood knee deep in the stream, completely soaked, water dripping from his hair and clothes.
For a moment, he looked up at the gray sky. His face showed nothing but hunger.
"Oh, finally…" he muttered. "The air. The freedom."
A grin spread across his face. "So… where do I go now?"
Days turned to weeks. A month passed.
In that time, he wandered the Death Spring Mountains, pushing himself deeper into the unknown. He felt the ancient powers crawl inside him wild, raw, and dangerous. At times, they almost tore him apart. At times, he thought he was moments away from being consumed.
But each time he laughed. "They want to eat me alive," he whispered to himself, voice twisted with delight. "But I can manage them. That's what makes me Jiyul."
His laugh rolled like thunder, echoing through the valleys. A devil's laugh.
Two months now remained before the tournament. Jiyul's eyes burned whenever he thought of Rayel.
"Two months," he said coldly. "I will kill you, Rayel. And the world will finally know who is the true strongest."
His thoughts flickered to Sylus. For a moment, his eyes darkened. "He looks strong. Maybe as strong as Rayel… or maybe stronger. Or maybe I misunderstood him. Doesn't matter." He clenched his fists. "Rayel… you are my target. Not him."
One night, he rested under the roots of a tall, black tree. The rain kept falling, soft but endless, painting the mountains in silver. Jiyul lay still, eyes half closed, listening to the storm.
By dawn, he rose again. The ground was wet, his clothes heavy, but his steps never faltered. His path was clear: back to the kingdom, back to his stage.
Yet before he left, he paused. His eyes narrowed. "Let me try… one more time."
He stood straight, closing his eyes. His breath slowed. Deep, steady. His mind turned inward. He focused on the burning ember inside him, and the strange flower growing in the depths of his soul.
The mountains held their silence.
Then it happened.
A force exploded from within him violent, uncontrolled. It burst outward like a storm breaking free of chains.
The shockwave hurled Jiyul forward like an arrow. He cut through the trees, smashing trunks apart, his body spinning with unbearable force.
"Aghhhhhh!" His scream tore through the mountains as pain ripped through every bone.
He crashed into a massive rock. The sound thundered across the valley. Blood poured from his head, running down his face, mixing with the rain.
Breathing heavy, he tried to move, but his body wouldn't answer. His vision blurred.
"No… not like this…" he gasped. His voice cracked with rage. "These… powers… I can't… even… stay alive "
The world spun. His vision turned black. His last words echoed into the storm.
"This… power…"
His eyes closed. Darkness swallowed him.
And Han Jiyul, the man who carried both the Blood Ember and the Flower of Askaroth, lay unconscious on the mountain floor caught between life, death, and something far worse.