The Greatest Fight [progression cultivation isekai]

Follow the Flame

"Where the hell are you going? Roa hasn't even come back," Theya opened her arms and shook her head in disapproval.

"Don't get lost, boy. I'm not coming to look for you if you get beat up," said Vesper, laying on the couch with his belly out, yawning.

"I got to go—I'm sorry. I'll explain later..." Rosso grabbed his cloak, and leapt out of the second-story balcony to avoid the curious and furious locals of the inn.

A huge smile appeared on his face and his eyes glittered, as he ran through the streets. His hand was shaking as he tried to follow the little, wild and colorful flame. Blue, purple, pink then green—big and small. It danced and danced, changing shape and hue as he took alley, after road, after avenue, trying to make some sense of the Gift.

"Sweet mother of all truths, how does this thing work?" he complained with a tone of frustration, as the flame flickered and disappeared often.

While making his way through the city, he stared into some of the windows. They revealed to him warm glimpses of other lives, and his heart was filled with melancholy for his family. Grayshroud was a toxic, rundown mess, but what he saw inside those homes warmed the traveler's heart.

"How many different lives," he whispered to himself—he appreciated the beauty in people enduring, even in the bleak, gray, darkness of Default World.

A tall, brick wall presented itself in front of him, unexpectedly blocking the way.

"Can't walk through walls, Compass," he thought.

"Well—what do we have here?"

Rosso turned around, noticing two large men holding crowbars.

"Dinner time," said one, licking his lips.

"Fork over your cash, and you'll get to see tomorrow, pal," the other grinned.

The loud sound of metal scraping on the pavement bounced off the walls of the tight, dark alley. Taking a swing at a trashcan, the goon sent filth flying towards the Jumper, taunting him. The heretic's eyes narrowed. He vanished. Using Haste to squeeze between his opponents, he appeared behind them, as their necks turned with a jerking motion, and their mouths dropped wide open. Landing his elbows onto the back of their heads, he sent them both to the ground, incapacitating them with a single blow.

"I'm not going to get beat up, you stupid old geezer..." Rosso said, thinking of his mentor's piercing words.

The Compass sent him on a wild goose chase for hours under constant, heavy rain. The flame did not waver under the inclement weather, however.

"I see. This thing doesn't go off because of wind or rain, like a normal flame does, but probably—as I focus more or less on what I seek," the colorful light reflected off his curious, wide-open eyes, as he closely inspected it.

He found himself in a large homeless encampment under a tall underpass. Mountains of trash were piled up like putrid, giant anthills.

"Is this it?" the flame grew brighter in front of a half-collapsed tent.

"Whaddaya want?" screamed someone from inside. "Go away!"

"I'm looking for Doctor Katu," the traveler said, as his face crinkled at the smell of urine.

The silence was broken by some shuffling, until a man, skin and bones, crawled out on all fours. He glanced up as his head tilted. He was wearing what must have once been a white tank-top, now almost completely brown. His beard was misshapen and matted, dripping with some unknown liquid. He smiled, revealing the few yellow and brown teeth he had left.

"Are you—" asked the young man.

The hobo nodded, vigorously. Rosso's eyebrows furled and he manifested the Compass. The colorful flame glittered in the stranger's opaque, listless eyes.

"My father—"

"Yar father was a sonnavabitch!" the homeless man slammed his palm on the dirty, concrete floor several times, repeating the last word.

The Jumper froze. His heart began to race in his chest.

"Yar father never gave a damn about no one. He left me right up over here, the damn scoundrel."

The young man could not say a word. He expected many things, but not this.

"I told him—no, no, no, NO. But he did—don't listen, damn son of a," he slammed his palm again, mumbling something.

"Why? What happened?" asked Rosso, finally able to get the words out.

"He done it. I told him no, but he done it. Danger, danger. He never listened to a damn word I ever said—no." He slammed his palm again.

"What happened to him, Doctor?"

"He dead, what do you think happen? He dead, boy. He deserved it."

Rosso sat and his mind wandered, lost in thought, zoning out. He came all this way to hear the angry ramblings of a man who had obviously lost his mind—listening to insults about the one hero in his life he always looked up to.

"How did he die?" his voice quivered.

The homeless man thought about it for a moment, as he began picking his teeth with his dirty fingernails.

"How you think? Noobar found him and hit him over the head with the chair. He stole his chair. It was his. I know it."

"What chair? Who the hell is Noobar?"

The skinny man pointed to another tent nearby as Rosso's eyebrows furled again. "My father died in the deserts of Western Waste..." he said, standing back up.

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The man laughed loudly, shaking his head, coughing out phlegm.

"No, no, no, I dun saw him take his chair. There ain't no desert here, boy, what you smokin'?"

The stranger's cackle pierced the Free Man's raw heart, digging deep into his insecurities. He walked away, under the rain, as the man's raspy voice grew quieter with each step. Realizing his mistake, his expression turned as gray and gloomy as the skies above, as his steps sloshed in the puddles of the city. He stood under an awning for a long while, without using the Compass. He began to grow afraid of knowing the truth. The rain tumbled down like a shimmering curtain, pattering against the streets and roofs of the city, washing away some of the soot. He stared at the rainbow-colored swirls of chemicals in the gutter, biting his lip as his mind wandered.

An elderly woman walked up to him and smiled, startling him. Her hair was dripping wet, and her big eyes communicated a warm, wise kindness.

"What are you doing in the rain with that sad look in your eyes?" she asked.

"I—I was looking for someone."

"Your best friend?" she said, letting out a chuckle.

He sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

"Or your worst enemy?" her smiled vanished.

He looked at her without saying a word.

"Maybe you were looking for the same person—yourself," she placed her hand on his shoulder. "I guess—when you find him, make sure he is the right one. The one who cares, and not the one who doesn't."

He didn't know how to respond. He had a pit in his chest and felt vulnerable. He nodded, forcing a smile out as the woman walked away.

"Mom used to say something like that..." he murmured to himself out loud.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he got a strange feeling—the feeling of being watched. He glanced around, staring at both sides of the empty street. No one was around. He stared at the puddle again as the ripples from the rain distorted the reflection of the facade of the building. His eyes narrowed.

"What the..." he said, noticing something else in the reflection.

He took a few steps forward, sticking his head out in the rain, when a cold chill swept through him. He had forgotten to use the Whisper Gift to hide his aura for several hours now. He was not alone anymore.

"Crap," he murmured as a white mask turned towards him.

"Anomaly," said the enemy in a cold tone, appearing in front of him. "The Order of the Worlds does not allow for unauthorized travel among different planes of existence, nor for the wielding of aura of any kind outside those the locals use."

"I never agreed to your rules, nor was I ever asked if I wanted you in charge," answered Rosso, defiant.

"You are wearing the clothes of a desert world. You do not belong here. Furthermore, I have picked up the faint signal from your Compass. Both are illegal. This sector is especially off limits due to the recent terrorist attacks. You will be questioned, then returned to your Homeworld—your recent memories, and any other dangerous ones, will be erased—to ensure your safe reintroduction back into your local society. This will avoid the corruption of the Order of the Worlds."

"And let me guess—you and your buddies get to continue to freely jump through Exits and wield all the Gifts you want, right?" Rosso dismissed the request.

He pivoted into a defensive stance, one fist raised to guard his face while the other hovered near his core, ready to intercept or strike.

"This is pointless. Why resist?" the enemy's mask tilted to the side.

"Why not?"

The roar of rain slamming against the pavement filled the air, drowning out all but the sharp rhythm of fists and feet colliding. Their auras spiked, pushing their bodies well beyond any normal, Human limit. Water splashed around with every movement, soaking through their clothes. Rosso's shoes skidded against the wet concrete, the cold sting of rainwater soaking his skin as he dodged a brutal kick. The Shadow turned midair. His foot swung in a wide, crescent motion, cutting across the space like a blade. With a sharp snap of the hips, the leg extended fully, the now glowing heel aiming for the target with lightning speed—the momentum carrying the power of the Brute Force Gift.

Rosso ducked, narrowly evading the deadly strike as it sliced through the air, the wind from the blow grazing his cheek, opening his cloak wide, and landing on the rattling windows of a building.

The Jumper's breath came in quick gasps, the taste of the wet air mingling with the sharp tang of blood. His opponent's fist came down like a hammer but he evaded it just in time, feeling the sting of a near-miss brush past his knee. His aura flickered as the Scutum activated. A crack of thunder boomed overhead, and the pounding rain blurred everything around him. He was locked in the moment. With a grunt, he pressed forward, his soaked clothes clinging to his frame, every drop of rain making the fight feel chaotic.

Rosso's body slammed against the ground, the force of a savage strike leaving him severely dazed. For a moment, he believed that the fight was over. He glanced to his right—a metal bar. His hand shot out, instinctively grasping the makeshift weapon. With a surge of energy, he pushed off the ground, his legs coiling like a spring before snapping into motion. His eyes burned with resolve, locking onto the enemy. The Shadow closed in, throwing a series of vicious blows, but the Jumper used the weapon like an extension of his own body—each strike blocked with precision, the metallic clang echoing through the air. With a fluid motion, he spun the stick, his movements so fast they blew the rain away. In a heartbeat, he smashed the Shadow on the side of his head, sending the opponent staggering back. He struck one more time, landing the weapon on his foe, who a few seconds later collapsed.

"Don't tell me what to do," he said, pointing the bar at him, letting out a proud smile, standing there with his chest out as he tried to catch his breath.

He stared at the opponent's mask, then reached down and grabbed it, attempting to remove it.

"It doesn't come off..." he said as his head tilted to the side, dropping the weapon onto the floor with a loud clank.

Eventually, the man from the desert reached a small, humble apartment building. The flame grew larger, glowing with an almost blinding, white light, as it danced uncontrollably.

"This must be it," he said, swallowing and taking a deep breath, gathering his courage.

He knocked.

"Yes?" An older gentleman asked, as the door creaked open.

His green eyes darted around with suspicion. He had messy, white hair sticking out in all directions, with a pair of safety glasses sunk into the curly mess. His bushy eyebrows went up, as he waited for an answer.

"I am Doctor Red's son. My name is Rosso Brunus Regola. Professor Zula, in the desert world of Lalh-Ah Land, said that you would know what happened to my father. Are you Doctor Katu?"

The young man's eyes were filled with both fear and hope, opening wide as he spoke with a trembling voice. The man's face lit up—he took a deep breath and opened the door.

"You're Red's son?" he asked as Rosso nodded. "Come in."

The two sat at a kitchen table as the doctor offered him some hot coffee and a towel. A fire was lit in the fireplace, crackling as the two talked.

"I've wondered all of my life what happened to him. Please, you were there with him during his last moments. You must tell me everything. My peace depends upon this," Rosso explained, his hand fidgeting with the cup.

Katu took another deep breath as he zoned out, lost in thought.

"It was so long ago. I never thought anyone from my world would ever find me here, let alone you. I certainly never found my way back there, in all of these years," he paused, noticing the traveler's intense stare as he waited for the long-awaited answer. "Your father was a strong-headed man. He lived for his research. He would have been happy to die for truth, just like your grandfather did. I tried to reason with him, we all did, but his mind was made up."

"Were you there with him that day?"

"Not at first, but eventually I couldn't just sit there and let one of the greatest minds in the world get himself killed. I was hoping to convince him. However, when I got to the village, things were already getting heated. There were too many of them, my boy."

"What happened?"

"They were about to kill him, so I used the Bang Bang Gift to clear the place."

"The what?" asked Rosso with a confused look.

"Bang—the unleashing of much of one's aura as an explosion around your body. It cleared the crowd in no time."

"Then what happened?"

"It was the only way to get out of there in one piece, but my aura unfortunately alerted the Shadows stationed on our world. They picked up on the spike as I used a Gift that is foreign to the natural laws of our Homeworld."

"They picked up on it—I don't understand. How did my father die then?"

Doctor K looked at him perplexed, pausing for a moment.

"Died?" he said, as he placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and nodded, "your father is alive, Rosso. He escaped."