The Ultimate Passive Paradigm [LitRPG Adventure, Epic Progression]

Nathan had not yet regained his composure when a whooshing sound carried a gust of wind that sent him flying, forcing him to close his eyes. He could only feel his shirt being held by some tremendous force.

"Where is Vincent?" the newcomer asked, enunciating each word clearly.

Nathan struggled to open his eyes, hazily looking toward the person before him. He had only a second to register the expression on the face that appeared in front of him. The man's face was contorted with worry, his breathing heavy and ragged, his eyes wide with bloodshot fury, and his jaw clenched tight.

As if realizing that questioning Nathan was futile, the figure vanished.

The pressure left Nathan's throat. He collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. He had never seen his Sect Leader so frantic and worried.

Alaric had barely left when Darkan appeared. Though he bore no complex emotions, those half-closed eyes still revealed an indescribable regret. He came to pick up Vincent's severed hand. No blood flowed from it—it seemed to have turned into a piece of wood.

Darkan sighed deeply and said, "In the end, we failed."

He looked toward where his friend had disappeared and shook his head.

Seeing this, Nathan understood with dawning horror that something terrible had happened to Vincent. Something irreversible.

"Why wasn't one of you with us if you knew this would be so dangerous?" Nathan asked his master weakly.

"Ever since I revealed my existence to everyone in Maelivar, I can no longer move or act freely," Darkan said slowly, without his usual harshness or irritation. "Before that, I was a secret weapon of the sect. A preparation that could only be achieved through long years of careful construction. Hiding one's movements is not easy. But now it's different. Like Alaric, I'm constantly watched by other factions. The moment we act, they act. Even the strong have their constraints."

Nathan felt as though thorns were piercing his throat as he asked hoarsely, "Are you saying that protecting me that day led to today's events? That Sai and Vincent's lives are now uncertain?"

"Sai? Sai is dead, beyond any hope of recovery," Darkan said, walking to a boulder and sitting down heavily. Exhaustion spread to every corner of his being. "Vincent is still alive. The problem is we cannot pinpoint his location due to the spatial disturbances. Losing Vincent is a fatal blow to us. The intelligence network from Cascade Gardens is essentially severed. As for Sai, there's no need to even mention it. All our efforts up to now have been wasted."

"Do you and Alaric see everyone as investments?" Nathan asked.

"What else, then?" Darkan replied coldly. "Do you think emotion is what binds us together? In this life, feelings and connections are luxuries that are simultaneously the most worthless things. At my age, can I still harbor such naive hopes?"

Nathan looked up, his lips trembling, the words coming out with greater difficulty than ever before.

"So today, if I had truly been killed, what would have happened?"

"Then you would have died," Darkan said indifferently.

Not knowing what else to say, Nathan sat there like a fool, assaulted by every thought in his heart. He could still feel the aftershock from Vincent's final push. That last moment was burned into his memory.

Vincent had every reason to let him go, to allow that Tier 5 cultivator to capture this junior disciple he'd only met a week ago. The attackers' target had never been Vincent. Yet when forced to make the greatest decision, his senior brother had chosen Nathan. Nathan understood that the agents all had the capability to escape and would have had an easier time if they had focused on protecting Vincent instead of him.

The truth was that Nathan was the primary target. And the enemy needed him alive, not dead.

Combined with Darkan's confirmation, Nathan understood more clearly that he had truly been used as a pawn by his own master. This realization made the weight in his heart multiply a million times over.

He knew he had wanted to participate in this mission because of his haunting memories from Emberwood, but when he understood the motives behind it, he found it laughable. His faith in the person he respected most crumbled.

Angrily, Nathan raised his head, seeking his master's eyes. What he saw only made him unable to speak. Before him was a pair of pupils filled with sorrow and distance. Though hidden, Nathan could still see the turmoil beneath Darkan's skin. In that moment, Nathan saw his mother. That was exactly the expression she'd worn when she had to tell him that their family was broken, that it was time for the greatest change of his life.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Nathan asked quietly, turning his face away.

Darkan didn't answer, only stood up and reached forward with his hand.

What had been peaceful before became an explosion. The force that formed sent Nathan flying. He only stopped when he crashed into a boulder behind him. He coughed up blood violently. His body had already been damaged to its limits from the battle and had no strength left to resist.

His vision blurred as he struggled to see what was happening before him. Darkan was trying to hold Alaric back.

Veins bulged on the Sect Leader's face. The mana around them churned under his fury.

"Stop it, Alaric!" Darkan commanded.

As if he couldn't hear, Alaric strained even harder. This action forced Darkan to clench his hand into a fist, punching straight into his friend's stomach. With a thunderous crash, shock waves formed, and the earth sank into a crater.

Alaric was sent flying through the cloud layer.

Nathan watched everything with rapt attention. He understood why Alaric had become so furious after losing the disciple he had carefully protected and nurtured. Perhaps if Nathan hadn't participated from the beginning, Vincent would still be here, laughing and joking. But thinking of himself being used as a tool, Nathan couldn't help but feel angry again.

Why should he sympathize with these people? Just because he had grown strong using their resources? Wasn't this their mistake to begin with?

"This is our mistake, Alaric," Darkan said, as if voicing Nathan's thoughts. "Don't act like a child."

"What are you doing?" Nathan asked. "Don't pretend to care about me like that."

"And what then? Let me lose my last remaining investment?"

"So keeping me alive means what? So I can hate you forever?"

"If that helps you, do so," Darkan said sharply.

"You're a fucking twisted master!" Nathan roared.

Alaric returned, and Nathan found himself unable to control his body as he was sent flying again. This time, even boulders couldn't stop him. The sound of cracking stone was not as terrifying as the shattering in his heart.

No matter how cruel this world was, Nathan had always maintained faith in one person. A source of reassurance during the long days. He had always told himself he needed to continue helping Darkan achieve what he wanted, to repay his debt. Nathan knew this mission was also such an action. But when he heard those words that cut into his heart, no one could easily accept them.

Only trust in yourself—the words of both Darkan and Vincent echoed within him.

Blood from the head wound made his eyes sting. He lay there on the empty ground, gently caressed by grass swaying in the wind. He was tired. He hated this world, this place he had never wished to come to. He imagined himself lying on the bed in that cramped room his mother had rented. It was dusty and carried a musty smell similar to the earth scent filling his nose now. He forgot his weariness and all the heaviness in his mind. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them next, everything would just be a nightmare.

"Enough!" Darkan roared, driving his lifelong friend's head into the earth. A deep, gaping hole formed where he stood.

"Please, Alaric!" his voice cracked.

Alaric emerged, earth and stone falling in patterns, his eyes still blazing with fury.

"Please," Darkan whispered again.

Hearing this, Alaric turned his head. He lowered his hands, the mana radiating outward being drawn back when he saw Darkan now.

Having regained his composure, Alaric asked, "Why did you say those things to the boy? I know I'm throwing a tantrum. But deep down, I also know you'd stop me."

"It's better this way," Darkan shook his head. His eyes settled on where his disciple lay motionless, the young man's breathing rhythmic but weak. "Time for him to stay away from me. I can't provide the protection he needs."

Alaric fell silent, brushing the dust from his clothes.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Darkan said bitterly. "We placed hidden protective marks on both of them. If they died, we could still recover their souls to recreate their bodies. But in the end, we're still just weaklings, Alaric. If that Tier 5 had managed to capture Nathan and destroy his body, what could we have done to protect his soul?"

"But there was no need to be so blunt about it," Alaric countered. "We did this largely to protect him. What we need to do is force these damn rats out of hiding. Even Vincent understood the purpose of this mission. Nathan will understand eventually."

"What's the difference? You like lies and playing politics. I don't. The result of this affair points to the same destination. We cannot protect the boy."

"And what do you gain by acting this way? Making your disciple even more unstable on the path forward?"

"Your disciple is strong," Darkan snorted. "So is mine. He has reasons to fight. I asked him about that the very first day we met."

"Still as stubborn as ever," Alaric said helplessly.

"And you're not the same?"

Both chuckled quietly in the vast plain.

"Vincent cannot be found?" Darkan asked.

Alaric's eyes drooped, his back hunching like an ordinary old man. "He's been taken beyond our sensing range," the Sect Leader said wearily. "All communication and tracking methods have been severed. Just as you said, when we meddle with a Tier 5 or higher, we're still playing with fire, bound hand and foot in every way."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Darkan handed Vincent's severed hand to his friend. Alaric received it, staring contemplatively. Using mana, green light flashed and gradually turned black. After a few seconds, a small tree with withered, barren branches appeared.

"Although I really hate his playful nature," Darkan said, managing a smile, "he truly is a boy who always thinks everything through. Even when captured, he had to make things as difficult as possible for the enemy."

Alaric smiled proudly, his hand brushing over the branches, not daring to touch them too closely.

"Give it to Nathan," Alaric said after a moment of thought.

"Are you sure about that?" Darkan asked.

"I don't hate the kid," Alaric said angrily. "Don't act like I actually do. It's true that the boy's presence made everything uncontrollable. But it was our fault from the beginning. At my age, I still couldn't control myself when thinking about what my disciple would have to endure. No wonder Orin always criticizes me as unfit for the position of Sect Leader."

This was met with a contemptuous snort from Darkan.

Alaric continued, "More than that, this proves we need to protect the boy more than ever. That's why I disagree with your methods. What good does berating him like that accomplish? He can hate me for what I did today. But he does not need to hate you, too."

Darkan looked again at Nathan, whose chest rose and fell with each breath. Gentleness and softness were not his methods, just like his master—always harsh and decisive. The challenges waiting ahead were even more treacherous, and Nathan needed to mature faster. And there was no faster way than breaking a person from the outside in.

A phoenix could only emerge stronger from the ashes after it had died.

Handing the small tree to Darkan, Alaric looked at the sky with its drifting clouds and said, "The peaceful era is over. All factions have seen us act. This time, we cannot stand aside and watch."

"They should start moving," Darkan said, waving his hand to gently pull Nathan into his arms. "We've made sacrifices to push this forward. The information we've extracted isn't enough, but it should force the king to act."

"We've only confirmed a hypothesis everyone already knew," Alaric said. "Mirothea. But we still don't have the secrets behind it or specific intelligence to turn the tide of war."

"We can only wait for this boy to wake up to probe further," Darkan gestured toward Nathan. "For now, we've managed to isolate and eliminate a Tier 5."

Alaric nodded. "Let's return. The agents must be back by now. I still need to reestablish Cascade Gardens. Information about Vincent being my disciple has already spread everywhere. They planned this truly carefully. The data left from the PsiLinks cannot be recovered. At this rate, the faction lines are already drawn."

With that, both flew away, leaving the peaceful space behind.

Nathan's severe wounds prevented him from waking from his nightmares. He dreamed of receiving bad news about his mother's illness, which jerked him awake from his stupor, only to return immediately to the darkness of his mind. He saw himself panicking when he arrived in this world, with Jessica trembling beside him, before a cultivator who nearly killed them both for startling the man.

Again, exhaustion dragged him back to the prison of his brain. He drifted through continuous nightmares. He returned to the small courtyard in front of the temple dedicated to the centipede demon in Emberwood. He couldn't move, couldn't attack the dangerous entity that sneered contemptuously at him, and couldn't stop Elder An from going berserk.

The bodies drained of life force crawled toward him like walking corpses. Their eyes were dark, bottomless pits, and their faces wrinkled and cracked like pieces of dried paper.

There was a force pulling at his legs above the knees. He looked down and his whole body went cold at those small figures, their hands like tiny needles clawing and clinging to him. They whispered:

"Why did you save them? And not me?"

Nathan found himself screaming, his head tilted back in despair. The sky bore neither black night nor white moonlight. It was a deep red canopy stretched across the heavens.

He squinted, and before he realized it, his nose was filled with the metallic stench of blood. The night canopy was made entirely of blood from the fallen agents. In the distance, Sai's incomplete corpse swayed.

The intelligence leader's Nascent Soul reached toward Nathan like a child. But then blood flowed from its eyes, forming winding chains that dragged Sai backward. Green flames rose amid the red background. The contrast made Nathan even more overwhelmed, even more unbearable.

In that light, Vincent appeared. His senior brother was pulling him away from everything collapsing around them. Nathan tried to speak but couldn't, and his limbs wanted to move but wouldn't obey.

In the blood-red sky, a scythe formed. It was so large it blocked everything in sight. The invisible enemy swung the scythe up. One downward swing. It cut toward Nathan.

The person beside him pushed Nathan away. A hand was severed. Nathan looked back, seeing only Vincent's body pierced by black stakes. But this time, he was not saved by the tree's vitality resurrections. Blood poured out like a waterfall.

Vincent tilted his head, his eyes looking toward Nathan. Those deep-set eyes were like the black, bottomless pits of the Emberwood victims.

"Why don't you save me?"

Nathan felt his mouth move, crying out loudly.

"Vincent!"

Before him was the familiar room. Below him was the familiar bed and mattress. To his right was the familiar window. Outside was the familiar expanse of vegetation.

Familiar to the point of being terrifying!

Everything was not a dream. He was not dreaming of becoming a character in a game, doing missions after talking to NPCs, only to choose the wrong red flag and see a "Defeated" screen with red tones appear.

"Finally awake," a warm, deep voice said beside him, making Nathan turn his head.

Orin stood there with a rosy complexion and fewer wrinkles. Several gray hairs on his bald head showed signs of darkening from the roots. Even more noticeable were the new thin strands appearing in patches. Though he looked much healthier, he still carried that same strange demeanor as before.

"Don't look at me like that," Orin snorted. "I still need to recover."

Nathan raised his hand to wipe his face. His whole body still ached, and that simple action seemed to drain all the strength he had. The tubes pumping medicine into his body made his skin numb. The beeping machines around him gave him a headache.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Not counting the times you screamed and jolted?"

Nathan nodded.

"Then a week," Orin said. "Boy, you should be more careful with your body. Even Darkan wouldn't dare take risks like you do, and he still has his bloodline, unlike you who've lost yours."

Hearing about his master, Nathan felt a sharp pain in his chest.

Seemingly seeing the young man's troubled expression, Orin said, "I don't understand why I followed those two difficult bastards here. But having spent so much time with them, I know one thing. What Darkan says isn't entirely his true feelings. Trust me. I know this through rather unpleasant methods. But to describe him as heartless would be absolutely wrong. He's arrogant, pretentious, always thinking he's right, but not to the point of being hateful. Whatever he said to you, you should only believe half of it."

Nathan nodded absently. His mind was still a jumbled mess of painful buzzing.

Orin scooted closer on his stool, placing his hand on the disciple who had once nearly been expelled from the sect.

"What are you doing?" Nathan asked wearily.

"Healing you," Orin replied. "Now that you're awake, try to use your mana and nora as Alaric told me."

Nathan felt some resistance. He had long since stopped sleeping like this, despite it being full of nightmares. But mostly it was dark, peaceful silence. He wanted to be locked away in it, not to return. That place had nightmares, yes, but as long as he turned his head to reality, the number of terrible things would only increase. He was certain of this.

"Remember why you fight, Nathan," Orin said slowly. "Being trapped in the darkness of your soul is the first step to completely destroying your cultivation foundation. Being Tier 2 and already like this, when you face Tribulation, you'll certainly fail. Nora should have helped you in this area, but now you can use it freely without obstruction. The benefit of increased resistance to heart demons has been lost. Nothing is truly given without cost."

Silence fell between them. Every meeting between Orin and Nathan had previously been cheerful conversations, drinking sessions to forget troubles, and casual jokes. Nathan knew Orin's position wasn't simple—even Darkan had to yield somewhat in Orin's courtyard last winter. Now it was even clearer. This outer elder's wounds had healed thanks to Nathan. Next, he might return to his old position, or perhaps become a secret weapon to replace Darkan.

"Can we still be like before, Orin?" Nathan asked, trying to curve his lips into a smile.

The old elder with his amusing bald head grinned cheerfully. "Of course, boy! You still owe me that promise about good wine. Here's the deal. As long as you make the drinks, you and I are friends. Not elder and junior. Deal?"

"Deal." Nathan smiled back.

"Now hurry up, before you get too tired and close your eyes again. None of us can use your power."

This time, Nathan obeyed. His energy flows were sluggish, like when he'd been trapped in Big Ben's formation, but fast enough to follow the instructions. Since he'd commanded the black hole to free himself, he'd found that combining nora and mana went more according to his will and was more efficient.

A moment later, he pushed the energy current throughout his body. With spirit vision, he could see the remnants left by the assassin. Not just the Aspect, but also poison and venom.

"Good," Orin announced. "Now let me."

In a flash, Nathan felt his whole body heat up. Everywhere his energy passed was enveloped in tiny flames. They were blue in color. They attacked the positions where the assassin's remnants lingered, burning them until they dissolved. Meanwhile, they avoided damaging his blood vessels.

So Orin's Aspect is fire, Nathan thought silently, unable to speak due to the burning pain. He continued guiding Orin's fire to penetrate his body, wondering why this was necessary. Perhaps this was the prerequisite the elder had mentioned before—avoiding unnecessary damage to him. Though not entirely clear, Nathan knew Orin's fire wasn't ordinary. It might be a special type like Adrian's from The Burning Autumn Lodge.

Nathan fell asleep again after a long healing session with Orin. When he woke up, all the various tubes around him had been removed. Only he and his bed remained.

Nathan managed to sit up, poured himself a glass of water, and drank it all. His throat still felt raw, whether from his wounds or from some device that had been inserted there. He tried looking at himself in the mirror. His body was too weak to startle him. The young man who had once been robust, muscular, and solid was no more. He was now skin and bones, with sunken eye sockets, prominent cheekbones, and dry lips. The shirt on his body hung loose like a tent, swaying in the breeze. When he touched his stomach, deep ripples formed. There was nothing left of his abdomen. He staggered and nearly fell, his hand having to support himself against the bed to stand steady.

The terrifying effect of Carrion Creed made him shudder with cold dread. Even after the assassin's death, the impact remained so severe. And that was when they hadn't even been prepared for him. All plans had been designed for Vincent.

Vincent! he thought urgently. He wanted to know what had happened to his senior brother. Alaric had appeared very quickly that day. Perhaps the campaign hadn't been a complete failure.

In an instant, he was brought to Darkan's basement. The cold air here nearly made him vomit up what he'd just drunk. He shot angry glances at the man standing before him. Darkan looked directly into his eyes for a moment, then turned his head away.

"We need to know the details of what you saw that day," Darkan said.

"What happened to Vincent?" Nathan asked, ignoring his master's request.

Sighing, Darkan turned back. He'd just opened his mouth when he saw his disciple's trembling. Grumbling, he conjured a chair and pushed mana forward, forcing Nathan to sit down.

Nathan wanted to stand up in defiance but found himself too weak to manage it.

"Vincent is missing," Darkan said.

Nathan took time to process this information. But Darkan had no patience. "Nathan," the Ninth Mountain elder said, "we don't have more time. The data packages on the PsiLinks have all been corrupted. Including yours. The videos cannot be recovered. Now, describe what happened."

"Have you caught him? That Tier 5?" Nathan asked.

Darkan clenched his fists, saying patiently, "We've isolated him. That's all we can do for now. But capturing him is impossible. When a Space Aspect cultivator wants to flee, who can stop them? He's waiting for something. And you are the key."

Hearing this, Nathan nodded. He recounted the entire process to Darkan, from the time at Emberwood to when they were ambushed by the Tier 5.

Darkan listened while pacing around the room, continuously scratching his head in thought. Though he couldn't see him, Nathan guessed Alaric was somewhere listening to this entire conversation.

"Absolutely absurd," Darkan exclaimed. "Sending a Tier 5 just to silence you?"

"Maybe they want revenge for me killing the centipede demon at Emberwood," Nathan suggested.

"A sufficient reason to act," Darkan said, "but not enough to take such risks. By doing this, they've declared conflict with Caelindor. And left a Tier 5 trapped in enemy territory. Do you think you're worth that much?"

Nathan frowned, not from annoyance but from being convinced. If the goal was him, there were many other ways. Reviewing the events in his mind, Nathan saw one point where Mirothea's raiding group could have stopped—after exposing Big Ben. If the group simply hadn't appeared, no one could have extracted anything more. Mirothea would remain as a secret. However, they had come with full force.

So the key point was probably Big Ben. The Tier 5 was sent to prevent the information revealed from being exposed. But Big Ben hadn't provided any valuable information. Anyone could have deduced Mirothea.

Anyone? Nathan wondered.

If so, then as Darkan said, why pursue them? Nathan had been impressed by the Tier 5's desire to capture him alive, leading him astray, making him think that was the enemy's goal. But goals didn't have to be singular—there could be two or three.

"Vincent would have been pursued or killed even without Carrion Creed," Nathan said aloud after realizing.

"Right." Darkan nodded. "But according to your account, there was no situation that would force both of you into a position where you had to be eliminated."

"Big Ben."

"What about him?" Darkan asked.

"Before dying, he didn't say Mirothea. He gasped 'M...r...' then died from the explosion in his head."

"M...r...?" Darkan repeated. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

His question seemed not meant for Nathan but for someone else. Nathan was the one who answered, his voice becoming urgent as his heart pounded rapidly against his gaunt chest.

"The combinations are numerous. But before we left for Cascade Gardens, Vincent had drawn two routes, not one. This second route led to Maelivar."

Darkan had stopped walking, his entire body turning toward Nathan. The attention from his gaze was like a furious prehistoric beast.

"Big Ben's testimony might not have been referring to Mirothea," Nathan said, increasingly unable to believe his own words. "But to the main force connected to both Mirothea and Zetsy. He was trying to mention one of the Great Houses, House Merinor."