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Silence once again settled inside the hut. Only the faint creaking of old wood and the soft rocking of the old man’s chair could be heard.

Zaber did not raise his head. But his fists were clenched.

The old man half-opened his eyes and studied him closely. This gaze was not an ordinary look — it was as though he were seeing not Zaber himself, but the thing inside him.

"You are mistaken, boy," he said at last. "I need neither your money nor your sword. Helping you is not even necessary."

Zaber took a deep breath. "Then what do you want?"

The old man smiled. This smile was not warm — on the contrary, it was dangerous.

"Your ti."

Zaber frowned. "How so?"

The old man slowly rose from his chair. He was not taller than Zaber, yet the pressure in the room suddenly shifted. Even Limir stirred slightly in Zaber’s arms.

"The Spirit Chain will kill you anyway," the old man said coldly. "Sooner or later. If I do not interfere, perhaps in a few years. If I do interfere..." he paused for a mont, "...perhaps in ten years."

Zaber gritted his teeth. "Ten years is still too little."

"Power does not co easily, boy," the old man replied. "Especially for you."

He picked up the round container from the table. Inside, the bees moved slowly, producing a faint hum.

"These bees belong to a creature of darkness. I have never seen anything like them before. If you have these now, in the future even better ones will appear."

Zaber looked at him in surprise. "What do you an?"

The old man fixed his gaze on him. "I will teach you. But not as a disciple — as a tool."

The room fell silent again.

"You will go to places I cannot reach. You will bring things I cannot obtain. I enjoy eating rare things — if there is sothing unique, that will suffice."

Zaber fell into thought. "And if I refuse?"

The old man shrugged. "Then you die here. Or the mont you leave the city, they will sniff you out."

Zaber glanced at Limir, then turned back to the old man. "Your conditions? Are there more?"

The old man bent his fingers one by one. "First — that clan matter you ntioned — none of that for now. First learn to survive."

"Second — you will hide nothing you find from ."

"Third..." he stared directly into Zaber’s eyes, "...you will not run away."

Zaber remained silent for a mont. His heart beat fast, but his decision was clear.

"I agree," he said at last. "But I have one condition of my own."

The old man raised an eyebrow. "Speak."

"Teach power that will not kill . Not just to survive... but to fight."

The old man laughed slowly. "Finally, you asked the right question."

He closed the container and turned away. "Then listen. From today onward, your life has ended, boy. Now you are only... a vessel. Neither alive nor dead, neither good nor evil."

The old man walked toward the door. "There is a path," he said. "But it does not lead back."

Pool with No Na

When the hut door closed, the silence of the cetery outside seeped back inside. It felt as though this place had not been built for the living, but for those already chosen.

Zaber stood motionless.

He knew he had just made a decision, yet he could not yet imagine how deeply it would drag him — or how dangerous it truly was.

"You are thinking right now," the old man said suddenly. "’Is this old man deceiving or not?’"

Zaber did not reply.

"That is good," the old man continued. "A person who does not doubt will not go far. But excessive distrust also freezes a man in place."

"You want power," he said. "But you do not know what power truly is."

Zaber lifted his head. "I do. Power is dominance and authority."

The old man laughed — short and ugly. "No. That is childish thinking. Power is survival. Everything else cos afterward."

Limir stirred gently against Zaber’s chest, but did not wake. Only her ears trembled slightly.

"You never asked ," the old man said. "Why I chose you."

Zaber stayed silent. "Why?"

The old man stepped closer. "You are like I once was — but better."

He said this with a wide smile.

From the spatial ring on his finger, he took out an object wrapped in darkened cloth.

When he unwrapped it, a smooth stone erged. Uneven lines ran through its center — as though living veins were slowly moving inside.

"What is this?" Zaber asked.

"Not a key," the old man replied. "But it shows the door."

"We leave now."

Zaber held Limir more firmly and nodded. "Where to?"

"To the worst place you have ever seen," the old man said. "And to the most necessary place you have yet to see."

The old man lifted Zaber in one motion and took a single step forward. Though it looked ordinary, that step stretched the surrounding scenery. In an instant, he covered the distance of an entire month’s journey.

They left the city far behind.

Zaber’s eyes widened, his thoughts tangled.

What is this? I have never heard of such speed. What kind of technique is this?

A few hours later, the air began to change.

The sll.

Like iron, yet not blood. There was moisture, yet not water. Breathing grew difficult.

Limir woke.

She glanced around for a mont and wrapped her tail tightly around Zaber’s wrist.

The old man spoke without turning. "This place," he said.

They descended into a narrow gorge. The rocks were dark, smooth, and strange — as though they had been eroded by sothing over a very long ti.

And finally, they stopped.

Before Zaber lay a pool.

It was not large, but its depth was unknowable. The water was neither black nor red — a dim, dark gray. Its surface was still, yet sothing seed to move beneath.

There were no signs around it. No stone inscriptions, no protective circles. Yet the place itself proclaid it alien.

"So call it the Blood Pool," the old man said. "Others the Devil’s Pool. Spirit cultivators call it the Spirit Pool."

Zaber could not tear his eyes from it. "And in truth?"

"In truth, it is a trial," the old man replied. "Whoever enters changes. Bones harden. Muscles tear apart and reform. The soul..." he paused for a mont, "...if it is weak, remains here forever."

Zaber felt a chill inside. "Who controls it?"

"Demons," the old man said calmly. "But right now they are asleep."

"And if they wake?"

The old man shrugged. "They are strong — but not equal to . Do not worry."

Zaber stared at the pool.

"I feel imnse malice from this place."

"This feels far too dangerous for — as though..."

The old man smiled faintly. "Finally, the right conclusion."

He placed a hand on Zaber’s shoulder. "Today you will only watch. From tomorrow... you will try to survive."

Zaber did not look away from the pool. "I know."

The old man walked slowly away. "Then prepare. Because this pool will not make you strong..."

He stopped and glanced back. "...it will turn you into sothing else."

Zaber sat at the edge of the pool, trying to attune his spirit to this place.

While Zaber sat at the edge of the pool, small ripples appeared on the water’s surface.

He had not moved.

It was as though the pool itself had responded.

Sothing stirred within the dim gray liquid. At first slowly. Then faster. As if whatever had lain dormant at the bottom had finally awakened.

The Spirit Chain on Zaber’s chest suddenly grew warm.

Not pain — sothing else entirely.

He drew his knees closer. His breathing grew heavier. "This... it’s answering ..." he whispered to himself.

Limir’s eyes snapped open.

Her golden gaze locked onto the pool, and her body tensed rigidly.

Zaber lifted his head. "What’s happening?"

In the center of the pool, an eye opened.

It was not human. Nor demonic. It was ancient, cold, and hungry.

The pressure in the entire gorge surged sharply.

From far away — as though rising from beneath thousands of graves — a voice echoed:

"The bearer of the Spirit Chain has finally arrived."

Zaber tried to stand, but his legs refused to move.

The pool’s water began to rise slowly.

And from behind him ca the old man’s calm voice: "Interesting... the pool has not awakened in a thousand years. Is this boy a potential creature of darkness?"

He smiled faintly.

A hand-like shape erged from the pool.

Zaber felt it in his heart.

Unimaginable darkness seed to co alive right before him.

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