Chapter 26: The Pit and the Blood
The fire cracked softly between us, its light dancing along the stone walls like flickering spirits. Beyond the veil of the waterfall, night pressed in—thick, silent, and patient. The forest outside slept in shadows, but here within the cavern, nestled in warmth and flickering amber, time itself seemed to still.
Vera sat beside me, her legs folded gracefully beneath her. Strands of damp, golden hair curled over one shoulder, catching the firelight in streaks of storm-lit gold. She looked calm, almost at ease—but I knew better.
I leaned back against the wall, the last of the grilled fish resting untouched beside me. The heat of the flames was already fading from my skin. Yet something colder pressed deeper, gnawing not at flesh—but thought. A question that had clung to the edge of my mind since the moment I set foot in this place.
Something about this pit was wrong.
Or maybe… forgotten.
My gaze drifted toward the waterfall's silver curtain, and the words slipped out.
"Hey, Vera," I said quietly, voice barely louder than the fire's whisper. "What is this pit… really?"
She turned, eyes narrowing. Her lips parted.
"You… don't know what this pit is?" she repeated, disbelief breaking across her face like a crack in polished glass. "Wait—don't tell me… you're new to the pit?"
She leaned in slightly, suspicion now cutting through her initial surprise.
I didn't answer. My eyes stayed on the rushing water outside.
The silence between us stretched.
She swallowed and shifted her weight, then finally spoke.
"The Pit of Cleansing," she began slowly, "isn't just a place."
Her voice lowered.
"It's an alternate realm."
She glanced toward the cave's edge, as if wary of being overheard—even by the rocks.
"It was born from a collision," she said. "Two domains that were never meant to exist in the same space. When they collided, something broke. What remains is this—twisted, unstable… fractured."
Her voice dropped further.
"A realm of corrupted beasts. Of cursed things. Creatures that were never meant to exist. And people who've lost what little made them human."
She paused. Her eyes didn't waver from mine.
"It was made for one thing only—survival. It's a crucible that eats the weak and grinds the rest into something else. This is where they send outer sect disciples to prove their worth."
Her expression hardened.
"But in truth... we're not stationed here. We're trapped here."
Her words didn't just land—they settled like ash. Thick, dry, undeniable.
And I felt it. Not just from her words, but from the walls. The water. The air.
This realm was ancient.
Wounded.
And watching.
I tilted my head. "And how does one leave?"
The question came light, as if I were asking about weather.
But my eyes stayed sharp.
Vera hesitated.
The silence this time felt longer. More fragile.
Then finally, her voice broke it.
"The only way out…" she whispered, "is to reach the top five slots."
The words echoed.
Soft at first—then louder, as if the cave itself repeated them in some mocking ritual.
"The top five?" I echoed.
The corner of my mouth twisted into something dark.
A smile.
"So only the strongest get out," I said. My voice was hushed, amused, electric. I rose to my feet.
"This is… truly interesting."
Behind me, the fire hissed. My shadow stretched and bled across the cavern floor.
Vera's breath caught.
And for the first time since I met her—she looked uncertain.
Not in herself.
In me.
"Don't get too excited," she warned, trying to rein in the moment. "The top ten here… they're not just strong. They're monsters. Each one has passed beyond the Æth Baptism Realm. Their bloodlines are ancient—unnatural. Twisted."
She exhaled like someone releasing a memory that still tasted of blood.
"Some of them are barely human."
But I wasn't listening anymore.
My gaze had turned skyward.
And then—I laughed.
Not soft.
Not human.
I laughed like someone welcoming the storm.
It surged from my lungs, rising through the stone walls like a second heartbeat. It echoed louder, sharper, until the cave shuddered.
Then I released it.
My aura poured from me like a tidal wave of decay—thick, oppressive, and suffocating. The cavern darkened. The fire's light stuttered.
It was the scent of rot. Of endings. Of graves long closed and spirits still lingering.
The air grew heavy—so heavy it bent.
Vera gasped.
Her eyes flew open, her hand flying to her throat as she staggered, overwhelmed.
"What—what is this aura?!" Her thoughts barely formed as panic seized her chest. "Who the hell is this guy?! Nothing about him… nothing is normal!"
The roots embedded in the stone floor reacted. Groaning. Cracking.
They unfurled from the rock as if awakened from slumber, twisting toward me, reaching as though in recognition—or fear. Faint veins of green light pulsed along their bark like nerves. The cave breathed with me.
This wasn't aura.
This was something older.
Something wrong.
Something no bloodline, no cultivation art could name.
"Master, you'll kill her!"
Vivi's voice rang out from my soulspace, sharp with alarm.
At her words, I pulled it all back—instantly.
The pressure had passed, but its echo still clung to the stone like smoke. Vera knelt in silence, her fingers trembling against the cave floor. She dared not look up.
But I looked down.
Into her.
Her soul was bare, and she knew it.
I stepped closer, my eyes narrowing, gaze sharp as a blade. From the outside, she was composed—beautiful even in defeat—but inside? Her flow of energy was chaotic. Interrupted. Incomplete.
"This girl…" I thought. "Her aptitude is rare. Refined. But her cultivation method… is all wrong."
I scanned her from head to toe—slowly, precisely.
The heat of my scrutiny was not lecherous, but analytical, surgical. Still, it made her flinch, her breath catching beneath the robe I'd given her.
Then I spoke.
Gentle. Almost tender.
"But there's still time to change."
I walked toward her—slow, deliberate steps that made the firelight tremble.
"Vera…" I said softly, voice like velvet soaked in flame, "you are truly weak. Like that of a rat, crawling for crumbs."
She stiffened.
My words pierced her not because they were cruel, but because they were true.
"But I can help you change that," I continued, a slow smile blooming across my lips. A promise. A threat. A future.
She looked up at me.
And in that moment—her eyes changed.
It wasn't fear.
It was hope.
As though in me, she saw something impossible. Something pure in its impurity. Light not in opposition to darkness—but made from it.
Her lips quivered.
Then she bit them. Hard.
"I know I'm weak…" she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
"I know I'm nothing…"
And then the tears came—silent, searing, shameful. They slid down her cheeks and struck the stone, evaporating on contact.
I watched her.
And struck the chord.
"Then what will you do about it?" I asked, loud enough to make the cave tremble again.
She flinched.
That same fear crept back—but it didn't stop her. It stirred her.
"Haha…" I exhaled softly, cruelly. "If I were you… I'd have sold my soul by now. Sold it to the devil for even a drop of real power."
I extended my hand to her, slowly, deliberately.
The cave quieted.
The fire dimmed.
And I said:
"I am that devil."
She stared.
No longer breathing.
Her mind raced—but her soul was louder.
"Why am I scared…? she thought. Why can't I look away?"
There was no kindness in my smile.
No mercy in my eyes.
But still, her fingers twitched.
Still… she reached.
"Even if he is the devil… my soul… begs my flesh to submit."
And then—
She grabbed my hand.
Tight.
Desperate.
Tears still wetting her lashes.
"Please," she said, voice shaking, raw. "Save me. From this miserable life I live."
In that moment, I felt it.
Not her words.
Her hatred.
It swirled beneath her skin like wildfire—coiled and ready, begging for purpose. She didn't just want power. She wanted revenge. On the world. On herself. On the lie that strength was only for the chosen.
I gripped her hand tighter.
"Then stand."
She rose.
Unsteady. But she rose.
Her breath caught. Her eyes never left mine. She didn't need to speak again.
She already had.
And I smiled, slow and cold as moonlight on a blade.
"From today," I whispered, "we dance till we die."
Her fingers squeezed mine.
And I turned, dragging her forward, out of the cave.
Out of the warmth.
Out of the silence.
Into the pit.
Into the blood.