On the Path of Eternal Strength.

The air kept vibrating.

Sebastián had left days ago.

But the emptiness he left behind was not silence…

It was density.

Virka walked without speaking. Her twelve–year–old body —increasingly resembling an adolescent in maturation— no longer carried the clumsiness of the borrowed form. Her steps were not those of a child. They were of someone who, without words, felt a direction.

And that direction… pointed to him.

Since Sebastián had merged with the earth to cultivate, the mark he shared with her —that connection older than speech— had remained latent.

Warm.

Alive.

But now…

Now it vibrated.

Not as a warning.

Not as danger.

But as a bell that, once struck, reminds the metal it can sing.

Virka felt his Qi.

It was no longer just neutral heat or survival energy.

It was… structured will.

And, most strangely: it was beautiful.

As if every spiral of Qi in the environment carried part of the pain they had shared… transformed into something that did not hurt, but guided.

She closed her eyes, and the image of Sebastián emerged like a mental painting:

Him, standing.

Taller.

More defined.

With an invisible crack in his center, and a power that no longer sought to scream… but to sow meaning.

—He has not broken —she whispered.

Narka barely turned his head.

—The mark?

—Us —she said.

The old tortoise did not respond immediately. But his shell glowed faintly, as if even the minerals of his body could hear the Qi Sebastián had left in the wind.

—He is not absent.

Only… expanding.

Virka sat on a slanted rock, where they used to share silence.

Her hands rested on her knees.

She looked at Draila's reddish sky.

Without night.

Without day.

Only cycles.

—Do you think he'll return the same? —she asked.

Narka closed his eyelids as if that question were more complex than any technique.

—He who departs through the Dao… never returns.

But perhaps… he waits a little closer to himself.

The girl did not answer. She only lowered her head, as if accepting that transformation —though necessary— hurt.

Because he was no longer the same.

But he was still him.

And that was enough.

Because the bond was not a rope.

It was a root.

And roots… do not ask permission to grow. They simply do.

Meanwhile, the Blood Prairie began to change again.

The Qi in the environment spun in a different form.

And both Virka and Narka knew it.

He was walking a new stretch.

One that no longer built only with body…

but with meaning.

The wind was not wind.

It was Qi.

And for the first time… Sebastián knew it.

Not because he saw it.

But because he felt it sliding across his skin, not as air, but as direction.

He walked among sharp stones, with his torso bare, muscles marked by years of silent war. His red bracelet remained fastened to his bicep, stained by the passage of time, but intact.

The body was no longer a vessel.

It was a language.

And in its center, the crack… spun.

Not with hunger.

But with purpose.

The Qi that enveloped him —translucent, slowly swirling around him— curved according to his will. It did not project like fire, nor shoot like lightning.

It was an atmosphere.

A zone.

Sebastián felt it expand from his abdomen.

And, with only a thought, that energy moved a few centimeters farther from his skin…

…as if he were opening an invisible flower made of intention.

His breathing was deep.

His steps, controlled.

He was not hunting.

Not training.

He was meditating while walking.

Because now he knew his Dao was not built with techniques, nor with strikes.

His Dao was to inhabit the instant where will becomes form. A creature emerged from the shadows.

It made no sound.

But the pressure it carried spoke of levels that in the past would have been unreachable.

A quadruped being, covered in black spines, with a snout like a double axe and eyes veiled by gray membranes. It did not roar. It only walked, circling Sebastián slowly… as if trying to find a crack not in his body, but in his conviction.

Sebastián did not tense.

He did not raise a guard.

He did not make his Qi into armor.

He made it into terrain.

And as the enemy entered that field…

Everything changed.

The Qi thickened, as if every particle of air had filled with gravity.

The beast felt the weight.

The ground seemed deeper.

The stones… sharper.

Sebastián took a single step forward.

The Qi condensed in his palm.

Not as a fist.

But as a rotating intention.

The creature leaped, fast, its spines gleaming in the air.

And in that instant…

…the zone closed like an invisible fist.

The Qi tightened around the enemy's leap, altering its angle by just a few centimeters. But that was enough.

Sebastián turned with his whole body, a rotation that began in his foot and projected through the hip, the torso, the shoulder… and finally the elbow.

The impact was dry.

It did not sound.

It did not thunder.

It simply crushed.

The enemy fell without making a noise. There was no bleeding.

Only a collapse.

Sebastián stood still.

The Qi resumed its swirling.

And he knew:

It was not just strength. It was projected decision.

He crouched beside the corpse.

Extended his hand.

And the crack absorbed the remaining energy, swallowing every residue of vital force as if it were drinking memories.

It was not sadism.

It was nutrition.

—This is my Dao —he murmured—.

Not one of honor.

Not one of mercy.

But of clarity.

And as he closed his eyes, for a moment…

…he saw something beyond.

A fleeting image.

An inner reflection.

A figure walking alone, with thousands of invisible arms extended.

Each one carried a scar.

Each one… a decision.

And the figure had no face.

Because it was still building it.

Sebastián opened his eyes.

The journey continued.

But now he knew something more:

His Qi was no longer a tool.

It was presence.

And his Dao… did not need a name.

Because each step wrote it.

The wind in the gorge's throat did not whistle: it scraped.

As if it dragged something old, with edges…

…with hunger.

Sebastián advanced.

Not as a wanderer.

But as a sheathed blade.

Each step was measured.

Not by caution, but by calculation.

He had followed the tracks.

Not to hunt.

But to test.

The terrain descended between formations of black rock, with thick mud beneath the cracks.

And there, at the bottom, the creature awaited him.

A being of dark plates, with four legs long as bent spears.

Its back was living armor.

Its neck, a taut cord.

And its eyes…

It had no eyes.

Only a polished skull, with indentations like sealed mouths.

It made no sound.

It did not tremble.

It was simply there.

Sebastián did not charge.

Nor did he wait.

He only opened his Qi.

Not with rage.

With form.

The aura spread from his abdomen in clear, translucent waves.

First as a halo.

Then as a dome of living pressure.

A space where everything felt heavier.

More real.

The ground cracked.

The air grew denser.

And the creature… stepped back half a pace.

—So you feel it —Sebastián murmured—.

Perfect.

The beast roared with a dry screech, like broken bone, and launched itself.

The first strike was like a broken spear:

fast, imprecise, brutal.

Sebastián turned on his left heel, dragging his Qi with him.

He did not dodge.

He redirected.

The Qi on his shoulder thickened like a vibrating blade.

The clash was dry.

Not against the body…

Against the aura.

The enemy was diverted, but not stopped.

It dug a leg into the stone and lunged again, this time with a vertical spin.

Sebastián was no longer where he seemed.

His body twisted with a tight step, and his hand curved in claw–form.

"Crimson Rend."

But he did not aim for the heart.

He aimed for the flank: the soft joint between the plates.

There he injected his Qi like an invisible spine.

It did not pierce flesh.

It pierced nerve.

The creature screamed.

Not from pain.

From interruption.

Its whole body convulsed, but Sebastián did not yield.

Second movement.

Both legs sank into the earth, and his extended arm traced a circle.

The Qi followed it like a chain.

And in that spin, it trapped the creature's hind leg in a ring of dense pressure.

—Now —he whispered.

"Broken Wing."

The twist did not come from the arm.

It came from the torso, the hip, the ground.

Like a living lever that wrenched the enemy limb backward.

A crack.

A collapse.

The creature fell on its side.

Sebastián did not wait.

Third step.

Blood Trap.

He feigned a stagger, leaving a shoulder low.

The creature, in its rage, bit toward the center.

Sebastián let himself be caught.

And at the exact moment… he locked his elbow on its neck.

The Qi thickened there like a rough second skin.

The pressure was brutal.

And with a twist, he smashed it against the rock.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Until the body became inert.

Not from asphyxia.

But from nervous collapse.

Blood gushed.

But Sebastián had already stepped aside.

His Qi zone pulsed as if breathing.

And he…

…said nothing.

He only raised his hand.

And for the first time, he absorbed.

The enemy's remaining Qi entered his core like torn mist.

Not with violence.

With decision.

Inside him, the crack spun.

Transformed.

Devoured.

And delivered pure Qi.

White.

Neutral.

His.

—It was not just a fight —he murmured—.

It was a test.

Qi was not just a weapon.

It was extension.

And the body…

…a script in constant rewriting.

Sebastián took a step.

The ground did not tremble.

But the entire environment felt…

…quieter.

As if the world began to understand that the one who walked…

…did not seek to survive.

He sought to impose his existence. The creature did not roar. It hissed.

A sharp, vibrating howl, like metal being torn across the sky. Its body was not imposing by size, but by geometry: wings spread like inverted spears, feathers that were blades, and a slender torso covered by shifting plates. Its eyes were black, but at the center glowed a liquid light, as if something else inside its skull were watching.

Sebastián lifted his gaze.

It was not surprise he felt.

It was interest.

The Qi swirled in spiral around him, projecting as a thin, almost translucent dome. It was not a simple barrier. It was a field of reading. Each pulse of the cutting bird was recorded at the edges of the zone, deforming the air like a warped stone thrown into a pond.

"I can't reach it yet," he thought.

"But I can make it come."

The creature dove without warning. Sebastián did not move. He extended his Qi toward the ground, carving threads of energy in a circular pattern. Each mark trapped fragments of air and compressed them. He waited until the monster passed above him…

And activated the first technique:

"Inverse Pulse."

A rebound of Qi from the earth upward, as if the ground exploded into an invisible column. It did not seek damage. It sought to raise sudden pressure on the wings, forcing the enemy to lose rhythm. It worked. The bird twisted clumsily, releasing a volley of sharp feathers that whistled past Sebastián's neck.

He did not flinch.

He had read the trajectory.

He took three steps to the right, pivoted on his heel, and extended his left arm. The Qi of his zone concentrated into a thin ring that wrapped his wrist as if it were a claw.

The creature turned again. This time it did not descend. It stayed dancing in spiral, as if measuring from above.

"So you are not just a beast either…"

Sebastián bent his knees, and released a second ring of Qi beyond his body.

"Extended Zone. Partial Projection."

The ring became a fluctuating field. It did not attack. It copied.

Every vibration of the enemy's wing was recorded for an instant. Each dive angle was simulated.

And then Sebastián launched himself.

Not upward.

Toward a lateral point, where the creature did not expect.

A rock. A tree. A leap.

Sebastián took impulse, not toward the bird's body, but toward the void where its wings would be in the next second. The Qi spun across his back, enveloping his shoulders like blades of air.

"Wingbreaker."

A new technique, born of the moment: diagonal leap, elbow extended, and torso twist mid–air to cut across the flight path, not the body.

It worked.

The monster's left wing collapsed at the midpoint, broken by inverse pressure. The creature shrieked. Sebastián landed with one knee on the ground, a line of foreign blood crossing his cheek. He smiled.

"Next."

The bird descended in fury. But now, its trajectory was no longer free. Sebastián already knew its form. He waited. Breathed. And activated:

"Closing of the Horizon."

A zone technique: Qi was not launched like lightning, but as vertical closure, from two lateral edges collapsing in the air like an invisible anvil. The creature was crushed between ethereal walls, its wings spread like a cursed cross.

Sebastián did not rush.

He walked. Each step was a word in his new language.

He reached the trembling body, still flapping. He raised his hand.

And the Qi claw, sharp and translucent, surged once more.

This time, it aimed at the creature's chest.

"Celestial Rend."

A technique designed for flying enemies: precise entry between ribs, internal Qi rotation, and rupture from within. The chest burst outward.

The blood did not fall. It floated.

As if Sebastián's zone no longer accepted external gravity.

And while the entire body dropped to the ground like a dead rag…

Sebastián looked at the sky.

"One flyer less."

"Now for those unseen."

And he vanished into the red.

But his Qi… kept swirling.

And the Dao dwelling within him…

began to seek height.

The Qi floated softly.

Not because it had no weight…

But because the gravity that guided it now came from another point.

Sebastián was crouched, back against an eroded stone, letting his breathing regulate itself. His body no longer hurt, but neither did it rest. It simply… vibrated.

He had fought.

He had killed.

He had cultivated.

And still… there was no certainty.

The crack in his abdomen did not spin with violence.

It spun with rhythm… as if listening.

Then Draila's figure appeared again.

Not as a celestial being.

But as a story yet unfinished.

—Your Qi is more stable —she said, without preamble.

—Not by strength —he replied—. But by direction.

She sat nearby, without intruding, without floating. As if the earthly also belonged to her domain.

—Do you already know what your Dao is?

Sebastián shook his head.

—Barely… I know how to begin naming it.

—And how do you feel it?

He did not hesitate.

—Like a possibility.

It is not a truth.

It is not a technique.

It is… a way of walking.

Draila smiled. This time without the solemnity of a teacher, but with the understanding of one who recognizes her reflection in another.

—Exactly.

—Many believe the Dao is a summit.

Others, a destination.

But no.

The Dao is every step… when you choose not to retreat.

Silence fell.

But it was not a cold one.

It was fertile. Then, Sebastián spoke. Not with doubt, but with necessity.

—You never told me why you ended up being this.

Draila closed her eyes.

And the air changed.

—I was flesh too.

I also walked.

I also fought.

And like you… I believed I could contain everything with strength.

—I harvested Qi.

Perfected techniques.

Imposed order upon places already broken.

—But I never listened to what the world was telling me.

—And then… the crack appeared.

Sebastián lowered his gaze, understanding that his was not the only mark upon the earth that spoke from a wound.

—Was it like mine?

—No —she said—.

Yours breathes.

Mine devoured.

—You carry it.

I… was devoured by mine.

And when my soul collapsed, this entire world you see… was born as an echo of that collapse.

—This world does not contain me.

I am this world.

—Everything you see, Sebastián, is the result of not understanding the purpose of my power in time.

The crack in Sebastián's abdomen pulsed once more.

Not in destruction.

But in understanding.

—And do you believe I will collapse as well?

—No —said Draila, firmly—. Because you cling to nothing.

You do not fight to preserve.

You… destroy to rebuild.

—And that crack you carry is not your burden.

It is your language.

It is your way of telling the world you will not repeat the mold.

—And what is my Dao, then?

—It has no name yet.

Because your Dao does not imitate.

Does not follow.

Does not borrow.

—Your Dao will be the form of one who does not seek to fit, but to remake.

Of one who sees the fragments… and rearranges them with decision.

Of one who does not rise above the world… but remakes it to his height.

—You are not a form seeking meaning.

You are meaning still taking form.

Sebastián lifted his gaze.

And his body, though already formed like that of a warrior… still carried the pulse of someone walking for the first time.

—Then I will continue.

Not for power.

But because I am tired of reacting.

—I want to be… direction.

Draila stood.

—That is beginning.

And not of cultivation.

But of you.

—But do not forget this:

—The crack you bear… is not a mistake.

It is the sign that you can still change.

—Your Dao will be as vast… as your decision not to become anyone else.

And without disappearing completely, Draila stepped back, as if the world slowly absorbed her.

And as she did, she murmured:

—You are not a man walking toward the Dao.

You are the Dao… remembering how to walk with human form.

Sebastián did not remain still.

After Draila's final words, he needed no farewell. He simply turned his face to the horizon… and began to walk.

Not fleeing. Not seeking anything specific. Just walking.

As if his legs needed time to understand what his chest already knew.

The Qi swirled within him, translucent and brutal. Without color, but not without form. It was like a whirlpool refusing to settle, as if still searching for its own definition. And he… did not rush it. Did not force it. He let it move at its rhythm, as his steps sank into land fractured by nameless years.

He crossed plains.

Passed through stone formations where minerals sang at touch.

Slept among fissures that still retained heat from days that never existed.

And after several days —or weeks— he reached a different place.

It was not a valley. Not a mountain.

It was a silent hollow, without wind, without sound, where Qi felt dense. As if trapped in invisible layers, floating among the roots of a leafless forest.

Gray trees, bare, covered with natural scars, as if something had torn them from within.

There were no creatures. Nor tracks.

It was a forgotten place.

And therefore… ideal to cultivate.

Sebastián stopped at the center. His breathing calmed. He closed his eyes.

And spoke to himself.

—This is why I came.

Not to seek a new frontier.

But to understand what I already had. He sat cross–legged. His body still marked by scars, muscle lean, skin hardened by battles. But it was not about that.

Not now.

Now it was Qi.

Now it was soul.

Now it was direction.

He began slow, deep breaths. He did not seek to absorb external Qi. He sought to refine what he already had, what his Inverted Origin Core had digested along his journey.

The Qi floated in his lower abdomen, spiraling. And little by little… it began to respond.

First he let it travel through his inner channels. Not to reinforce the body, but to read its form. The Qi touched muscles, bones, tissues. It aligned with his breathing. And then, slowly, it began to emerge.

Like mist. Like a secondary skin. Like a memory that wanted to materialize.

Sebastián contained it.

He tried to concentrate it in his right arm.

Failed. The Qi dispersed.

He tried again. This time, in his legs. He achieved slight pressure, but unstable.

A third time. In his spine.

And there… it felt different.

As if his Qi understood it was not meant to cover, but to support. Not to protect, but to reveal form.

With that thought, Sebastián began to work.

Day after day.

Isolated.

In silence.

Each attempt was a way of understanding his own essence.

Sometimes the Qi emerged only as a layer.

Other times as an edge.

Other times as radial expansion, small but intense. His mini–zone.

More control each time.

More synchrony each time.

And on the day that had no name… something changed.

He was standing, eyes closed, Qi forming a weak sphere around his body, when… he not only felt it. He saw it.

The Qi zone was not air.

It was pure will.

It was the echo of his decision made substance.

The zone expanded more than a meter. Not like an explosion, but like a pulse trembling with his breath. Inside it, the air rippled. Pressure shifted. Everything that entered… became part of him.

And then he knew.

He was not far from Level 5.

But he did not want to reach it yet.

Not out of fear.

But because… he wanted to deserve it.

Level 4 could still give him more.

More variation.

More external control.

More possibility to project his form without relying on his body.

So he did not cross.

Not yet.

He sat down again.

And smiled, faintly.

Because he understood, at last, that his Qi was not energy he used.

It was an extension of what he kept silent.

Of what he did not yet understand… but chose to sustain.

And so, in that silent clearing, surrounded by torn trees and a reddish sky that never changed, Sebastián continued his cultivation.

Not out of need.

Not for power.

But for respect.

For what he was.

For what he had built.

For what he was beginning to become.

The prairie remained red.

But it was no longer the same.

The stalks swayed with a different sensitivity, as if detecting a new presence they could not classify. Sebastián advanced with slow step. His Qi zone kept expanding, adapting to each breath.

And in that silence…

A memory came.

Not as a mystical revelation. But as a simple, real scene. Human.

A day. A fall. Mud in his hands. His mother calling him from behind.

But it was not the voice that marked that image.

It was the gesture.

His small hand squeezing the mud.

Not as defense.

But as necessity. To hold. To not let the world slip away.

That instant remained suspended in his chest.

And something inside turned. Not his Qi. Not the Core.

But instinct.

The instinct not to let go of what still breathes.

From there the technique was born.

Not as idea. As reflex.

He gathered his Qi in his palm. Compressed it into an invisible, rotating form, as if the air twisted toward the center. The energy did not expand… it shrank. Formed a small, lethal vortex. It did not seek to cut. It did not seek to explode. It sought to close. Like a fist that does not squeeze from outside, but from within.

When it caught something… it would not let go.

The Hand of Forgotten Mud.

A technique born of memory, perfected by the body.

And the moment came to test it. In the northern zone of the prairie, a creature awaited. Aerodynamic body, wings hard as obsidian blades, and a torso divided by a vertical mouth–pit. It slid through the air with mathematical precision, without emitting sound.

A silent predator.

Sebastián did not wait.

He activated the technique in his left hand and lowered his center of gravity.

The creature dove.

When it came within reach, Sebastián did not strike.

He extended his palm and closed it mid–flight.

There was no light, no sound. Only a tremor in the air. As if the wind itself had been compressed within his fingers. The creature hung suspended for an instant, vibrating… and then, its body collapsed from within. The chest caved in, the wings folded, and the eyes went dark without understanding what had defeated them.

It fell.

Without blood.

Without scream.

Without glory.

Only the dull sound of an empty body.

Sebastián released his breath slowly.

—It works.

He said no more.

The prairie seemed to respond to the act. The stalks vibrated. The wind grew denser. The Qi in the air began to recognize him… not as invader.

But as legitimate inhabitant of power.

And he, without ceremony, began to walk toward the next enemy.

Because now, every technique was born of a memory.

And every memory… was a polished weapon.

The enemies did not come alone.

He sensed them before he saw them.

A pack. Four, five… seven creatures with spined backs, low bodies, multiple legs. They moved like waves of flesh, synchronized, tearing the prairie with every step.

Sebastián did not retreat.

Because he had no reason to.

His Qi was no longer only extension. It was a field. A zone. And it was alive.

The first creature leapt with jaws wide. Sebastián turned his torso, activated his technique, and his left palm closed just as the air between them grew dense.

The creature did not explode.

It broke.

From within, as if its ribcage collapsed under invisible weight. The sound was muffled, viscous. It fell without even touching Sebastián, convulsing without strength.

But the others did not stop.

The second attacked from the side. Sebastián turned his hip, moved his hand with a spiral trace of Qi, and caught one of its hind legs without touching it physically. The creature screamed —or tried to— but its body was sucked by the inner pressure, as if something folded it from organs to bone.

The third creature recoiled at the sight.

But Sebastián did not let it escape.

He advanced three steps, expanded his technique's zone in a lateral extension, as if his hand created an invisible fan of pressure, and pressed his palm toward the air.

The creature was not caught by the body.

It was caught by the chest. Direct. In a single moment, its rhythm stopped. Its whole weight dropped as if the heart had been shattered to pieces. It died standing… before collapsing.

The rest surrounded him.

Sebastián lowered his center of gravity.

His eyes no longer blinked. Every muscle was relaxed. His breathing was the axis of the technique, and his will was the net.

Four enemies.

Four intentions.

He moved his feet with minimal precision.

And executed.

The fourth creature received the technique straight to the face. The skull compressed as if absorbed by the void. There was no blood. Only a dry implosion.

The fifth attacked from the air, and Sebastián, without changing position, launched his Qi upward with his palm in claw–form. He did not touch it. But the vortex caught the neck, and before it touched the ground, it could no longer breathe.

The last two lunged at once.

Sebastián smiled.

He created a double technique with both hands. A spiral in each palm. He crossed his arms, and when the creatures entered the range… he closed his hands as if seizing two invisible spheres.

Both creatures fell at the same time.

Their bodies… sank.

Not into the ground.

But into themselves.

As if crushed from within by a thousand silent fists.

The field fell silent.

The prairie did not celebrate.

Neither did Sebastián.

He only lowered his arms.

The Qi of the technique dissipated.

And the air flowed once more.

He looked at his own hands. They were not bleeding. They were not trembling. They were not the hands of a child. Not even of a warrior.

They were the hands of something that did not stop once it had understood its will.

—A technique is not for fighting —he murmured—. It is to remember that I can decide how you die.

He turned.

More enemies were near.

And now, each of his palms was a sentence.

The air shifted before something broke it. Sebastián stopped dead. Not out of doubt, but out of sensation.

He had killed dozens, maybe hundreds, in that meadow. But the smell… this smell was different. It wasn't fear, nor blood. It was ancient. Thick. As if the air had held its breath for centuries and was now releasing it all at once.

A roar did not come.

Because it was not roaring.

It was walking.

The ground didn't tremble from weight. It trembled from authority. Each step was a sentence, and the world seemed to hold itself before the appearance of something that had no hurry. No hunger. Only presence.

Sebastián turned slowly.

And he saw it.

A four-legged creature. Not giant… but absolute. Its body was covered in black plates with crimson veins that throbbed as if they had a pulse. Each joint gave off heat without fire. Each exhalation left scorched marks on the grass.

But it wasn't that which stopped Sebastián.

It was its gaze.

The beast stared. Not like a predator.

But like someone waiting for something.

As if it already knew Sebastián.

And even so, it did not retreat.

Nor did it attack.

It simply advanced in a straight line, without diverting its attention for a single instant. Its tail, long and spined, remained low, like a blade that didn't need to show its edge to be feared. Its breathing was rhythmic, but dense. Each inhalation seemed to absorb the nearby Qi.

Sebastián lowered his center of gravity.

He extended his Qi as an immediate zone, as before.

But nothing happened.

The creature was not affected.

It didn't even notice.

Or worse… it did notice, and ignored it.

The silence became real.

Not of calm.

Of pending decision.

And then, the creature spoke.

Not with words.

With steps.

Each advance cut the distance without hurrying. Each second it didn't attack was a threat stronger than a blow. Sebastián felt something ancient in his chest, not fear… genetic memory. As if his body knew it faced something above.

Even so, he did not retreat.

He couldn't.

Not out of pride.

But because he understood that some defeats were necessary to remember who you were.

The fight had not yet begun.

But the battle was already being written.

And Sebastián… barely smiled.

—Let's see if your law… can withstand my will.

The air contracted.

A dry hum crossed the meadow.

The creature did not roar, did not warn.

It attacked.

Sebastián barely saw it move before his body reacted by reflex. A flash crossed his side. Something sharp grazed his ribs. It wasn't a clean cut: it was a tear, an open line that bled as if the air itself had split it.

He retreated immediately.

His Qi activated on impulse, reinforcing the affected area while adjusting his breathing. The wound wasn't mortal, but it hurt.

And the pain spoke clearly: the creature knew how to strike.

In front of him, the enemy stopped.

Large, muscular, with dark scales and yellow eyes that did not blink. Its form was not that of a beast out of control. It moved like a hunter who knew exactly when to bite.

Sebastián charged toward the left flank, seeking position. His right palm already held gathered Qi. Not a complete zone, but a compact core to crush head-on.

He struck with precision.

But the enemy's body was no longer there.

Sebastián turned instantly, and just then the impact arrived from the other side.

A blunt blow, straight to the shoulder. No claw, no edge: it was the enemy's body hurled like a projectile.

He went flying.

Rolled.

Got up.

His arm hung, partially dislocated.

He rotated the shoulder, set the bone with a crack, and spat blood.

—I understand —he said in a grave voice—. Then you're fast. And you think.

The enemy moved again.

Sebastián anchored his feet, expanded the Qi in a short, dense radius, like a bubble of pressure around him.

When the enemy entered, the air grew heavy.

The speed of the leap was cut by a field that pulled every muscle downward.

The impact was minimal.

The enemy touched ground and slid to the side.

It didn't attack by impulse.

It calculated.

It looked for openings.

Sebastián didn't wait for the next step.

He advanced three meters, activated his technique, and launched a spiral strike with his palm. The Qi compression caught part of the enemy's body: a wing or something similar. It didn't break… but it cracked.

The creature roared for the first time.

And counterattacked with its jaws.

Sebastián lowered his head just in time. Even so, he felt the hot breath brush close to his neck.

The movement was fast, brutal.

The jaws snapped shut on the air with force enough to split a tree.

Both separated again.

Sebastián had cuts on his forehead, shoulders, and torso.

The creature had a damaged wing and a strained leg.

But the battle remained even.

And neither intended to yield first. The creature charged with unnatural speed for its size.

It didn't use its legs like a quadruped.

It used its body like a projectile.

A straight leap. Direct. Lethal.

Sebastián could not dodge completely.

And he didn't try.

He flexed his abdominal muscles in reverse direction.

An impossible technique for human bodies.

But not for his.

The belly sank inward, redirecting the pressure of impact toward the flanks.

The blow dragged him three meters.

But his body did not collapse.

The pressure was absorbed by adaptive musculature, that network of fibers that didn't just endure…

but mutated under stress.

Sebastián landed on his feet.

And he was already charging forward.

His left hand closed into a fist with spiral Qi slowly rotating.

But the true strike came from the right.

A descending elbow powered by dorsal muscles, which not only accompanied the movement…

They multiplied it.

The strike connected against the creature's side.

A crack.

Not of bone.

Of bursting inner flesh.

But the enemy did not scream.

It responded.

It snapped its neck like a whip and trapped Sebastián's arm between its fangs.

Metal would have given way.

But Sebastián's muscle hardened autonomously.

Compact. Viscous. Anchored.

The jaw did not close completely.

The beast released… and changed its pattern.

It leapt backward and then to the side, tracing a circle.

It was studying him.

And that was more unsettling than the pain.

It wasn't a beast.

It was a rival.

With thought. With intention.

—Good… —murmured Sebastián as he spat blood—.

Then I too will stop holding back.

He crouched.

Activated internal pressure.

The blood was pushed by thoracic muscles, accelerating flow, irrigating arms, legs, spine.

The body tensed.

Not like a rope.

Like a hammer.

The creature felt it.

And attacked with a curved claw.

Sebastián did not dodge.

He pivoted on a single ankle, let the claw graze his back…

And used the contact to apply a lateral twist with shoulder and knee at once.

A technique designed to capture the enemy's movement and return it in the opposite direction.

The result:

The enemy's claw turned toward its own body.

It slashed its chest.

Sebastián had turned his body into a trap.

But it wasn't enough.

Because the creature… did not even stop.

With the open wound, it turned its head and lashed with its tail.

The impact lifted Sebastián from the ground.

He flew five meters.

Crashed rolling.

And still…

he didn't get up in haste.

He rose as if awakening something else.

—My muscles… already understand your form.

Now… my will must crush it.

He ran.

The creature too.

Both collided halfway.

And there, Sebastián unleashed everything:

Left elbow to the trachea.

Knee against the base of the chest.

Fist with muscular torsion that didn't use only the arm, but the entire torso.

Each impact was a silent scream of the body.

A trained brutality.

The creature received each one…

and returned just as many.

Claws, fangs, charges.

Sebastián's muscles adapted, but began to show real fatigue.

Not pain.

Not injuries.

Structural fatigue.

Because this creature was not like the others.

It didn't break.

It didn't frighten.

It didn't flee.

The battle continued.

But Sebastián knew…

That he was not winning.

The creature did not break.

Did not retreat.

Showed no signs of exhaustion.

Sebastián exhaled through his nose, with warm blood sliding down the corner of his lips.

His body still worked.

His Qi still responded.

His muscles could still lift the earth itself if commanded.

But…

it wasn't enough.

Not against this opponent.

And in that inner crack, Sebastián did not feel frustration.

He felt clarity.

Because the blows that do not kill… also teach.

—Then you won't die here —he whispered—.

And neither will I.

The monster roared.

The sound wasn't guttural.

It was sharp, as if born from a sharpened thought.

A tongue that didn't use words… but understood combat as language.

It leapt.

Again.

Sebastián did not receive it head-on.

This time, he turned his body back and drove his feet into the ground.

He activated everything at once:

The Qi zone extended like an invisible wall,

The thoracic muscles in vertical contraction,

Palms with floating compression spirals,

The lateral rupture step he had designed against slower enemies.

And when the creature was upon him…

Sebastián caught it.

Not completely.

Only for an instant.

Long enough.

The Qi spun like a vortex around him, and the creature was stopped in the air as if the world had frozen.

The front legs stretched. The body tensed.

And there, Sebastián unleashed his counterattack.

A direct strike to the base of the neck.

Not with fist.

With the entire forearm reinforced by Qi from within.

The impact compressed a vertebra.

Didn't break it. Only altered it.

Enough to cut the line of movement for a second.

Sebastián did not use it to kill.

He used it to leave.

He retreated with an inverted jump, releasing a small wave of Qi as impulse.

The creature landed on its feet.

And did not chase him.

It only looked at him.

Not with hatred.

With interest.

As if saying:

"I let you go.

Because now I want to see how far you can go."

Sebastián breathed deeply.

His back hurt.

His ribs burned.

His Qi trembled, as if the crack of his core spun without rhythm for the first time.

But he was alive.

And that, in this battle, was already victory.

He vanished into the red mist of the meadow, not running.

Just walking.

He didn't flee.

He withdrew.

Like someone who understood that some wars… are not yet won.

They mature. The meadow did not bleed.

But it smelled of death.

Sebastián had left the battlefield behind with measured steps, not from pain, but from strategy. He did not run. He did not limp.

But he was not whole.

His body still functioned as a weapon…

…but he had not won.

And he knew it.

He walked for hours, until the land turned into a hollow covered by black rock and flowerless grass. A place that seemed forgotten even by the world itself.

There he stopped.

His breathing was deep.

His chest did not rise with effort.

But something inside him spun like a distant drum.

Not his heart.

The crack.

The core, incomplete, still swallowed fragments of the battle. Residual Qi. Muscular tension. Failed intent.

Sebastián sat down.

Rested his forearms on his knees.

Closed his eyes, but not to meditate.

To remember.

Not the fight.

But the resistance.

That of that creature.

That thing that did not break… nor retreat.

"What was that?" he thought.

It had not been like the other beasts.

Not pure instinct.

Not irrational ferocity.

There was something more.

Something that thought.

That chose.

A creature that had observed him with a strange mixture of hunger and judgment.

That had not let him live out of mercy…

but out of curiosity.

It was then that the voice arrived.

Not like thunder.

Not like an apparition.

Simply, Draila was there.

Standing.

Not suspended.

Not floating.

Present.

—You should not have survived that —she said, without emotion.

Sebastián did not flinch.

—I did not survive.

I was let go.

Silence.

Draila looked at him without judgment.

—Do you know what you faced?

—No.

—Do you want to know?

He nodded.

—It was not a common beast —said Draila, lowering her voice—.

Nor a direct descendant of a superior race.

—It was something worse.

—A creature gestated by contact with the blood of a dragon.

Sebastián did not speak immediately.

Did not show surprise.

He only lowered his gaze.

And a dry laugh escaped his nose.

—Dragons… —he murmured.

And remembered.

Books.

Images.

Tales from his world.

Winged dragons.

Guardians of gold.

Monsters of the sky.

Creatures of legend.

—In my world —he said—, they were stories to put children to sleep or excite warriors.

—Here, no.

Draila stepped closer.

—Here, dragons exist.

They are real.

Ancient.

Immense.

And… superior.

Sebastián slowly lifted his head.

—Was that one?

—No —Draila answered—.

It was a creature deformed by having touched dragon's blood.

A drop. A fragment.

Not a complete heritage.

—And that's enough to turn it into that?

—Yes.

Because dragon's blood… is not blood.

—It is a signature.

A pact.

A mark that screams power even in the dead.

—That creature was touched by that essence.

And that was enough to deform it beyond the limit.

Sebastián closed his eyes.

—I couldn't defeat it.

—You weren't meant to.

—Then… what was the point?

Draila crouched by his side.

For the first time in a long time, both were at the same level.

Not as world and traveler.

But as two forms trying to understand each other.

—The point is not to win.

—It is to measure.

To know your edge.

—And you, Sebastián…

you found it.

He nodded.

Not with pride.

—My Qi wasn't enough.

My muscles weren't enough.

Not even my techniques.

—But you are still here —said Draila.

—And what does that mean?

—That you can walk again.

The silence returned, but it did not weigh.

Sebastián raised a hand, looked at it.

His fingers were firm.

His knuckles marked.

His veins charged with inner pressure.

But they were not invincible.

—What is a dragon, Draila?

She breathed deeply.

—It is not a beast.

Not a race.

It is a summit.

—A creature born to guard power.

And the longer it lives… the more it becomes part of the world.

—And that creature…?

—Barely brushed its shadow.

—And do you believe… that I will be able to face them one day?

Draila looked at him for a long time.

—No.

Not if you keep thinking about facing them.

—Then?

—Only if you become something that they… recognize.

—Not as enemy.

But as possibility.

Sebastián closed his fist.

The crack spun inside his abdomen.

Not with hunger.

With direction.

—Then… —he said, opening his eyes—, I must strengthen everything.

—Not just your body —said Draila—.

—Your Qi.

Your understanding.

Your soul.

And your Dao.

—And if I don't yet know what my Dao is?

—Yes, you do —she replied—.

You just don't know how to name it yet.

—Because your Dao will not be that of fire…

nor of the spear…

nor of justice.

—It will be a Dao of conscious destruction.

Of voluntary reconstruction.

Of emptiness that does not fear being empty.

—A crack that does not seek to heal…

But to understand what it means to be broken.

Sebastián nodded.

Not like one who understands.

But like one who accepts to begin.

—Then, Draila…

—Show me where to begin.

Draila did not smile.

But neither did she vanish.

She simply extended a hand…

and the earth itself responded. The cavern had no time.

It only had transformation.

Inside, where the crystal walls breathed in silence, Sebastián did not sleep. He did not meditate. He did not move. He was… structure in mutation. Not from the outside, but from the center of his abyss. His crack did not stir with violence, but spun like a slow digestion of the world.

Days were not days. They were uncountable.

They were internal cycles of rupture and reconfiguration.

The Qi that entered through the Inverted Origin Core was crushed, dismantled, freed of all trace. Inside him, the vortex that once seemed an anomaly began to spin with greater density. As if the very crack were adapting to the new vessel.

His body was no longer the same.

The inner veins that once tore from excess pressure were now amplified conduits. The energetic system was no longer an unstable map: it was a dense, living network. Each organ began to behave as part of a pressure machinery. His body no longer resisted Qi. It cultivated it. Contained it. Molded it.

The breaking point did not arrive like an explosion.

It came as a structural understanding.

The accumulated Qi stopped being a liquid trying to escape, and became a living reserve, a second circulatory system. His core did not enlarge. It compressed. It was not bigger, it was deeper. More stable. More his.

And then… the chamber knew. The chamber did not break.

It opened.

As if the earth had recognized that what grew inside was no longer a guest… but a catalyst.

Sebastián's body emerged wrapped in translucent Qi. Not bright. Not opaque. Alive. His muscle fibers had not swollen with excess, but his form was more precise, more defined. As if muscle was not only strength… but purpose.

Each step resonated. Not from weight, but from presence. And the Qi, instead of escaping or surrounding him, stayed. As if it didn't need to be invoked. As if it already knew… that this was its place.

Sebastián breathed.

And that inhalation was not simple oxygen. It was a complete flow, synchronized. Because his body no longer pushed Qi. It directed it.

—Realm Five… Internal Consolidated —he murmured—. Middle level.

He did not say it with pride.

He said it with certainty.

Because now he understood.

This realm was not about gaining more power… but about being able to contain it without breaking. To mold what was absorbed without his body collapsing. To compress without losing. To sustain without pain.

Now, each technique was no longer an impulse that had to be discharged before shattering. It was a structure. An internal state. Like a weapon that lived inside and did not ask to be used, only to be ready.

And his Qi… behaved as if it understood the agreement.

Sebastián turned his torso slowly. The air curved with him. His will no longer needed to scream. A thought was enough for energy to obey.

Because his body had become a living chamber of pressure.

It no longer resisted Qi.

It adapted it.

And the Qi, in turn, responded. Not as an external force. But as part of his organs, his blood, his breathing.

—Now I can maintain a technique without exhausting myself… —he whispered—. I can hold a zone without it dissolving at the first clash. I can decide how much energy I use… and when.

He flexed an arm.

The movement was minimal.

But Qi wrapped it like an exact thread. A second skin. Not a barrier. A thinking extension.

—This realm… —he said, while the red sky of the meadow seemed to incline toward him without moving— is not just an advance.

—It is containment.

—I am no longer a vessel that overflows.

—I am a form that decides how much… and how.

And then he felt it: cultivation was not climbing.

It was configuring.

Not to use more force, but to endure it without losing form.

The wind did not rise. But the world seemed to hold silence.

Because Sebastián was no longer a boy with inhuman strength.

He was a cultivator who was beginning to master his interior.

And for the first time… Qi stayed with him.

As if it knew that there, in that body made of cracks and decision… it had finally found home.

And without waiting another day, Sebastián began to test it.

Not with enemies.

But with the pure intent to refine.

He closed his eyes and extended both hands forward, letting Qi flow from his internal crack, not like an overflowing torrent, but like a thread that knew its form.

Before, his Qi had to be contained with muscular force. Now… a thought was enough. Deciding was enough.

The energy slid along his arms as if it knew them, surrounding each tendon, each bone, without breaking rhythm.

And then, he expanded it.

Not abruptly.

Gradually.

As if his body stretched beyond flesh and could precisely trace the edges of space.

A small Qi zone emerged in front of him.

Oval. Stable.

Barely half a meter.

Before, it would have required effort, accelerated breathing, tension in the shoulders. Now… not a single muscle contracted.

—No more pushing —he murmured—. Just… modulating.

That was the word that crossed him.

To modulate Qi.

Not to use it as a weapon. But as a dynamic structure.

His zone curved. Changed shape. Changed intensity. It became denser. Then more diffuse. Then it expanded like a front cone. Then a spiral. Then… it contracted until becoming a sphere that spun slowly, floating between his hands.

The sphere began to rotate in two different directions, as if obeying its own laws of gravity. Sebastián held the control center not from his palms… but from his core.

Because all Qi came from his Inverted Origin Crack.

And that crack no longer only absorbed energy.

Now it refined it.

Sustained it.

Obeyed it.

He concentrated more flow toward his right leg. The muscle hardened like rock, but mobility did not decrease. He gave a short leap, propelled by a Qi impulse that affected only that limb. Then he tried both arms, channeling an energetic overload only into elbows and shoulders, as if seeking to project explosive force without sacrificing precision.

Simple movements.

But lethal.

—I can fragment it —he whispered—. Not just throw it all as one… but separate intention.

That changed everything.

To separate intention.

To separate will.

Qi did not have to be used whole.

He could unfold it. Dissect the energy.

He could, for example, make his left palm generate a pressure zone centered on an enemy's chest, while the right wove an enveloping technique to immobilize limbs.

The same Qi. Two functions.

And there was still unused energy.

Sebastián barely smiled.

It wasn't happiness.

It was confirmation.

Now he was a cultivator.

And he needed no witnesses.

Because even if the world did not know, he already understood his place.

A cultivator who did not cultivate for power.

But to contain it.

And mold it.

And when that understanding settled like a second pulse in his abdomen… the crack spun deeper, as if responding to his will.

Qi seemed to listen to him.

—I still don't have techniques for all types of enemies… —he murmured—. I still cannot fly. I still cannot pierce mountains…

—But I can redesign every part of my body… to get there.

The ground at his feet cracked, not from weight, but from downward pressure.

Sebastián raised his gaze.

The red sky was still there.

Unmoving.

But something on the horizon… vibrated.

And he did not turn back.

He took the first step. The terrain changed before the sky did.

The red grass sank into a gentle slope, as if the land itself were yielding toward something deeper. Sebastián descended without haste, but with senses sharpened like blades.

Qi spun in his inverted core, compact and expectant. He did not expel it. He modulated it. It was a contained torrent, a living presence beneath his skin.

Then he felt it.

Not with his eyes.

With instinct.

A pressure. As if the air were holding the breath of something that longed to bite.

The enemy appeared raw. Without warning, without threat.

Only action.

It leapt from a cracked rock formation, with a body covered in dark scales, but not smooth: they were angular, mineral, as if the creature had been born of a split mountain.

It had three front legs. An error of symmetry that gave it unpredictable speed.

And a head without eyes.

But with a clear sense: Sebastián.

The creature descended in a dive, without making a sound. Sebastián didn't need to think.

He bent his legs, turned his torso, and released a Qi zone from his abdomen, without breaking it. It was translucent, rotating, like a mantle of pressure extended from his will.

The impact came.

But it did not touch him.

The Qi received the blow… and redirected it.

Not like a shield.

Like a living net.

The creature bounced to the side, and Sebastián was already there. Not with brute force, but with precision. A palm strike straight to the beast's flank activated the internal technique: localized pressure, compression toward the center of its chest.

The creature howled.

Not from pain.

In response.

It spun on itself, and its split tail, like double whips, tried to cut the air. Sebastián retreated slightly. Not from fear, but to measure.

His Qi remained stable. His body showed no signs of overload.

And then, he attacked.

Not with a direct blow.

But with a circular movement, where his hand drew an invisible spiral, creating a second, denser, more compressed, exact zone.

This was not defense.

It was execution.

The creature felt it. Tried to stop its charge, but the air was already sealed. The spiral trapped its foremost front leg, and with a slight twist of his wrist, Sebastián forced the technique.

The sound was dry. Not a break… but a torsion.

The beast fell to the side, unbalanced.

But not broken.

In that instant, Sebastián understood: the creature was not just fast or resistant.

It was adapted.

It reformed itself.

From the wound, the scales began to vibrate.

As if trying to close on their own.

—Regeneration —he whispered.

He clenched his teeth.

And did it again.

This time, with both hands.

He created a double spiral. Not centered. One above the beast's body; the other, below.

And with a firm step, he spun on his axis.

The zones collapsed in a perfect cross.

The creature screamed. This time it was pain.

But it did not stop.

It leapt again.

And Sebastián knew this would not be quick.

It would not be a hunt.

It would be… a test.

One to see if his body, his technique, his will, and his Qi could truly uphold the idea of what he wanted to be.

Because that monster before him…

Also had will.

And it would not fall just because its hunter was more precise.

Sebastián breathed.

The crack in his abdomen spun slowly, absorbing residual energy from the impact.

And in his mind, only one idea resounded:

—Today I do not fight to kill.

—I fight… to measure the edge of my power.

The regenerative creature lunged a third time.

This time, with no sound. Only the pressure of its body cutting through the air. Sebastián activated the technique before the enemy touched ground: Qi densified in a horizontal line, like a wall without visible form, placed at the exact height of its stomach.

The creature crashed.

But did not stop.

The pressure was absorbed. The scales vibrated. The legs bent. And still… it advanced.

Sebastián stepped back twice.

And changed focus.

His body bent at a low angle. His hands did not twist, but closed. He did not seek to trap.

He sought to break.

The next strike was with the base of the palm against the ground.

Qi exploded in a line forward.

A direct-push technique: a Qi zone expanded from the ground, compressed toward the beast's chest.

Impact.

The creature bent backward, torso arched, but its legs still clung to the terrain.

Sebastián clenched his jaw.

He used the double rotation technique: both hands extended, tracing opposite circles that created a crossed zone. Not of pressure.

Of torsion.

When the creature charged again, it went straight in.

And its body twisted.

Back against chest. Ribs against spine. It was as if every centimeter were pulled in opposite directions.

The sound was brutal.

But it wasn't enough.

It didn't snap.

It only fell to the side, shaking like a trapped insect.

—Don't fuck with me… —murmured Sebastián.

And then, he felt it.

The air changed.

The Qi of his surroundings vibrated without permission.

The ground hardened. Not like stone.

Like bone.

And the pressure… the pressure did not come from the creature still writhing at his feet.

It came from farther away.

From a crack in the earth.

Sebastián lifted his gaze.

And saw it.

It did not walk. Did not roar. Did not run.

It was simply there.

The creature from before. The one that had forced him to retreat. The one that had not fallen to his body, nor his Qi, nor his technique.

The one that smelled of ancient lineage.

Of dragon's blood.

Its presence did not cause fear.

It caused order.

The monster that had been fighting Sebastián… stopped moving. Not dead. Not wounded. Just… still.

As if recognizing a superior predator.

The beast of dragon blood lowered its head. Not in submission.

In calculation.

Its eyes did not shine. But they saw.

Sebastián.

His spinning Qi.

His tense muscles, full of inner pressure.

His measured breathing.

And it did not launch to attack.

It only stopped there.

As if observing.

As if evaluating.

—Shit —whispered Sebastián, not moving—. It's waiting.

Not for opportunity.

But for decision.

The previous creature moved aside. Did not flee. Crawled to the side, never ceasing to look at the new presence.

And Sebastián understood:

The true battle was only just beginning… but not today.

Because that creature with dragon's blood had not come to kill. Sebastián lowered his arms, without breaking the Qi zone.

—You know I can't defeat you yet… don't you?

The creature did not respond.

But neither did it attack.

It only turned.

And vanished into the red mist that had begun to cover the horizon.

Sebastián did not smile.

Did not sigh.

He only lowered his gaze.

And marked the place in his memory.

—Soon —he murmured—. You won't be the one to let me go.

—You'll be the first… that cannot.

He turned on his heels, with Qi still dense in his veins.

And began to walk.

Not toward safety.

But toward the training he needed so that next time…

The battle would indeed have an end.

The earth had not yet forgotten the roar of the creature with dragon's blood.

And neither had Sebastián.

His body burned, not from wounds, but from what he had not managed to break.

He knew his Qi was firmer. He knew his techniques were more controlled.

But he also knew —without denial— that it was still not enough.

Not for lack of energy.

But of form.

Because if he wished to devour the world, he had to learn to rend without mercy.

And for that, his body must not only endure.

It must be a total weapon.

Then he felt it.

Not a spiritual presence.

A weight in the air.

As if someone breathed with guilt… behind an inevitable decision.

The Bandaged Man appeared. He did not walk. He slid between cracks, as if not wanting to be seen.

But Sebastián was already looking at him.

—You came —he said without moving a muscle.

The man stopped. Lowered his gaze.

—Not by will —he confessed—. I came by… fear.

Sebastián tilted his head.

—Fear of what?

The bandaged man slowly lifted his eyes. His voice was no longer harsh. It was human.

—Of what you will become… if I don't give you this.

There was a brief silence.

Charged.

Dense.

Until the man added:

—And because Draila asked me.

That made Sebastián not answer immediately.

But in his eyes, something tempered.

The bandaged one approached slowly, until he was three steps away.

—This technique… was not made to be shared.

It was a secret among survivors. Not of wars. Of experiments.

They broke our bones until we learned to turn with them.

They burst our muscles until we knew how to use them as springs.

They taught us to kill without weapons… because they took everything else away.

—And you… survived?

—No —the man said, lowering his head—. I survived long enough… to give this to another.

He extended a trembling hand. Not from weakness. From memory.

—This art… has no name. It is not a school.

It is a path of fracture.

And you… you have the perfect body to use it without dying in the attempt.

—What does it do?

The bandaged man breathed deeply.

—It turns every part of your body into a collapse trap.

Your bones don't strike: they crunch inward to expand centrifugal force.

Your muscles don't push: they pull in opposite directions to twist what they touch.

Your tendons tighten like ropes, not to support… but to cut.

—And the blood?

—It moves like mass of internal pressure. A bomb that sustains the technique and bursts it from within if you don't control it.

—And you believe I can?

—No. I know that you… were born for this.

—Because your body already destroys and regenerates itself every day.

Because you don't use force. You consume it.

Sebastián stepped forward.

—Show it.

The bandaged man nodded.

And he did.

It wasn't a single movement.

It was a sequence that defied everything a human body should endure.

The arm arched with the elbow twisting in reverse.

The torso bent as vertebrae cracked, as if compressed from the back toward the lungs.

The legs tensed muscles not to jump, but to drive each vertebra toward the neck, increasing pressure without moving.

And then he released the strike.

Not with the hand.

With the entire body collapsing on itself, unleashing the impact like a wave that traveled from the organs to the outside world.

The air trembled.

Not from energy.

From insane biomechanics.

Sebastián did not flinch.

He only watched.

And understood.

The bandaged man fell to his knees.

Coughed blood.

—That was… once.

—You, if you learn it… will do it always.

Sebastián asked no more.

He sat.

And the bandaged one, in silence, began to teach him the fundamentals of a technique made to kill from the body itself.

There were no names.

Only sequences.

Torsion.

Contraction.

Collapse.

Release.

There was no Qi involved.

Not at the beginning.

Only hardness, pain, repetition.

And Sebastián… did not complain. Did not scream. Did not stop.

Because he understood something simple:

The body is not a weapon.

It is a will that still does not understand how to break without dying.

And he… was ready to understand it. Sebastián said nothing after receiving the technique.

He only looked at his own hands.

Then his arms.

And afterward, he walked to an open clearing where rock emerged from the ground like ownerless spines. Perfect for testing it.

He did not activate Qi.

Did not meditate.

He only inhaled… and his body changed.

The muscles contracted on their own.

Autonomous.

They responded without him thinking them.

They were like internal springs compacted by will.

And they asked for no permission.

His chest expanded.

The blood did not flow normally.

It was pushed with pressure from every muscle fiber, generating an internal excess of content.

A brutal, direct, physical pressure.

He raised his arm.

Not to position it.

But to load it.

Because now, his body charged itself like a weapon.

The technique he had received was not elegant.

It was not a fluid form.

It was a style born to break, without warnings, without containment.

The first strike fell.

A rock the size of a cart shattered instantly.

It did not crack.

It did not collapse.

It exploded into dust and tiny fragments, scattered in a radius of three meters.

The ground… split beneath his feet.

A line of impact sank into the earth, as if all the weight of his body had been multiplied by ten and redirected into a single point.

Sebastián stepped back.

The muscles of his legs twisted over themselves, not for effect, but for function.

Internal compaction.

His fibers tensed as if folding against each other, pushing blood toward zones of greater need.

There was no rest between movements.

He turned.

Fired his elbow toward another rock.

He didn't even aim properly.

The stone was split in half before the elbow fully touched it.

The pressure wave generated by the internal structure of his body did the work before contact.

The Path of the Indomitable Body — Stage 5 plus was not just strength.

It was a complete system.

His muscles did not contract to move: they detonated to strike.

His blood was redirected by contractions to reinforce each impact zone, creating densified regions in milliseconds.

His skin adapted, withstanding pressure without tearing.

Before an irregularly shaped rock, Sebastián lowered his center of gravity.

Flexed one leg, twisted his hip.

Blood rose like a blow of heat through his torso.

And he unleashed a heel kick.

The stone did not just break.

It was buried into the ground.

Buried.

As if an absolute downward force had condemned it to the center of the earth.

The ground trembled.

But not from magic.

From pure physical violence.

Sebastián lowered his gaze to his feet.

The earth had circular cracks.

Like a concentrated explosion… generated by his body.

He closed a fist.

The forearm thickened.

The shoulder rotated with the joint inverted by micro-adjustments of his autonomous muscles.

And without charging, without preparing, he struck the ground.

The seismic wave expanded.

It was not Qi.

It was not technique.

It was body.

A technique that needed no name.

Because each of his blows was an act of extinction.

He stepped back.

Turned his neck.

The neck cracked in two different phases.

One from the spine.

Another from the muscles that protected it and re-adjusted themselves.

And then he understood.

This technique…

Was not made to win.

It was made to end.

Where it was used, nothing remained.

Only broken earth.

Only sunken bodies.

Only signs on the ground that something had happened which should not be repeated.

Sebastián raised his arms.

Not in celebration.

But because now he knew how to fight without restraint.

And without Qi.

His body alone was enough to crush weak worlds.

—This is my true martial art —he murmured—.

And still… I am learning to use it.

He walked toward another rock, even larger.

This time, he did not use fists.

He jumped, spun in the air, and his entire body fell like a colossal hammer.

The impact did not break the rock.

It disintegrated it.

As if it had never been there.

When he landed, the ground was no longer flat.

It was marked.

Because now… Sebastián was a walking sentence.

And he was just beginning to write it. The beast was there.

Not as an apparition.

But as a pending debt.

Its shadow stretched across the broken meadow, and Sebastián's pupil-less eyes did not blink.

He was no longer the boy who had fled.

No longer just a strong body.

Now… he was a force.

And the beast felt it.

Both advanced.

Without roars.

Without threats.

Like two entities that knew language was no longer necessary.

The creature moved first.

Its tail swept the air like a black scythe, and the ground exploded in its path.

But Sebastián did not retreat.

His foot sank into the earth.

And when the tail came…

he stopped it with a palm wrapped in Qi.

He did not block it.

He redirected it.

As if his muscles already knew how to transform impact into impulse.

The ground cracked.

The first clash was brutal.

But not mortal.

Sebastián spun on himself, using the rotation as a base to launch a direct strike with his new technique.

Not toward the body.

But toward the front left leg.

Where there was a weak joint.

The blow pulverized rock before.

Now… he sought bone.

The impact was not a sound.

It was a crack felt in the air.

The creature trembled. Not from fear. From recognition.

For the first time, it stepped back half a step.

Sebastián gave it no time.

He followed with a sequence of blows driven by the Path of the Indomitable Body.

Autonomous muscles.

Total torsion of the torso.

Rupture of internal tissues only to amplify pressure.

The blood was directed by muscle itself to critical zones.

And Qi…

Qi moved like a second skin.

It did not just surround him: it projected him.

With each palm he launched, the Qi zone adapted to the strike's form, and when it did not impact physically, it struck as an invisible echo that crushed from within.

The creature defended with claws, with body, with inhuman speed.

It was bigger, older, more ancient.

But Sebastián was human…

and because of that, he could mutate faster.

A claw cut his side.

Blood spilled.

But his strength did not lessen.

Qi sealed it before it touched the ground.

And the body's technique used it to generate internal pressure.

His counterattack was a kick to the creature's abdomen.

A single movement.

But the ground broke in a five-meter radius.

The creature fell on its back.

But did not die.

And then it roared.

Not like before.

That roar… split the stones.

It was a scream of lineage.

Of blood.

Of ancient power.

Sebastián understood.

—You have dragon's blood…

Not as a question.

As certainty.

The creature rose, despite the blows.

Sebastián lifted his arms.

Both breathed with asymmetrical rhythm.

Both knew they could not end the fight now.

But neither broke.

The beast gave a final slash.

Sebastián avoided it and stepped back.

—I cannot defeat you… yet.

The creature looked at him.

And did not attack again.

It turned its back.

Not as surrender.

But as mockery.

As if accepting that this fight… should not yet end.

Sebastián did not follow it.

Not out of fear.

But out of vision.

Because now he knew that to defeat it, strength alone would not be enough.

He had to evolve further.

He looked at his hands, still covered in Qi.

—I will return for you…

And he did not say it as a threat.

He said it as destiny.

The air was still impregnated with the smell of broken blood.

Sebastián remained alone in the meadow.

Not as a survivor.

But as someone who understood that he had not won…

and that he had not been defeated either.

Only he remained.

And the will not to stagnate.

He walked among fragments of ground, where the creature's tracks still burned with an energy that was not entirely its own.

The Qi in his body kept flowing.

The body remained firm.

The technique remained intact.

But something was missing.

His gaze lifted to the red sky.

And for the first time, he did not seek to understand the earth.

But what he had not yet stepped on.

—This place gave me strength —he murmured—.

Forged my body…

Taught me to fight…

To resist.

But it is not what I seek now.

His fingers closed into a fist that did not tremble.

—I want more than that.

I want to understand what I am…

What I can be…

And then, without ritual.

Without arcane words.

Only with will.

He called her.

—Draila.

The earth did not stir.

The sky did not change.

But from the cracks in the air…

she appeared.

As if she had been listening all along.

—Are you ready to leave this place? —she asked, without smile, but without judgment.

—Not because I defeated it.

—But because it can no longer give me what I need.

—And what do you seek now? —whispered Draila, watching him.

—A biome where I can cultivate my Qi.

—Where the body is not the limit.

—Where the Dao… breathes.

The silence that followed was not denial.

It was approval.

—Then you will come with me —said Draila—.

And you will not be the same when you return.

Sebastián nodded.

There was no farewell.

Only steps. The wind did not cease.

Nor did the Qi.

Nor the need to advance.

Sebastián walked behind Draila.

But not in submission.

Rather like one who has recognized that there are still paths he has not walked.

His steps resonated over the land he himself had marked with his battle.

They were not footprints of victory.

They were signs of transformation.

—Where are we going now? —he asked, without turning his head, only letting the question flow.

Draila did not stop.

But she answered.

—To a biome where fighting well is not enough… nor is having physical power.

—Then? —murmured Sebastián, already knowing the answer… but wanting to hear it.

—The Rift of Mirrors.

A silence fell between them.

Not uncomfortable.

Reflective.

—And what is there?

—Reflections —said Draila—. But not of the body.

—It is an abyss full of crystalline structures that return the image of what you are…

and of what you could become.

—So I won't just see my body… —whispered Sebastián.

—You will see your possible selves —affirmed Draila—.

The monster.

The child.

The sage.

The avenger.

The savior.

The one who hates.

The one who forgives.

Sebastián lowered his gaze slightly.

Not from doubt.

But from weight.

—And what am I supposed to do with that?

—Decide —answered Draila—.

Not with words.

But with the soul.

—Because only one who has chosen…

can build with firmness.

—And if I don't choose well?

—There is no right or wrong —said Draila—.

There are only reflections that will show you what you are willing to sustain.

Sebastián clenched his fist.

—Then… I will come out of that place different, won't I?

—No —corrected Draila, finally stopping.

—You will come out as someone new.

The silence returned.

But this time, it was Sebastián who broke it.

—And Virka?

And Narka?

—They are not destined for this biome —said Draila softly, but leaving no room for discussion.

—This step… is only yours.

—Then they will remain in the Meadow?

—Yes. They follow their own path.

—They will reunite with you… when their versions are also ready.

Sebastián did not respond immediately.

He only let that affirmation sink into him.

—It is not a separation —added Draila—.

It is a maturation.

—The strength you have gained… cannot yet be shared.

It must be understood.

He lifted his gaze.

The red sky still covered him, but for the first time, he no longer felt contained by that color.

—Then take me to that rift —he said, with a voice that no longer sought guidance.

Only destiny.

And Draila, without another word, opened a portal among the cracks of the air.

It was not a circle.

Nor a door.

It was a cut in reality.

As if the world had split to reveal something that had always been there…

but that only now accepted to be seen.

—Prepare yourself, Sebastián.

—Here one does not bleed from the outside.

—One bleeds… from the soul.

And with one step, he entered.

Without looking back.

END OF CHAPTER 13