Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 113: The Only Option

Chapter 113: The Only Option

A spear grazed his leg, its qi-infused tip drawing blood and disrupting his balance. Kael stumbled, pain flaring, but he caught himself, rolling to avoid a hammer that slammed into his side, the impact rattling his meridians.

More attackers closed in—three, five, ten—their auras a chaotic storm of conflicting Daos, their eyes wild with hunger.

Kael raised his free hand, channeling the Silver Lotus Flame through his dantian, its energy flaring in a radiant ring that exploded outward. Bodies flew, their qi scattering, groans echoing across the plain.

"Stop him!" a cultivator yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. "He’s weakening! We can take him!"

They couldn’t, not truly, but their numbers and relentless greed made them dangerous. Kael’s breath grew ragged, his vision blurring at the edges, his qi reserves teetering on the brink of collapse.

The crimson mark on his forearm pulsed, a quiet reminder of the shard’s power, but he knew using it now, without mastery, could invite the Whisper’s return.

Then—a hand caught his shoulder.

Kael whirled, Abyssal Fang raised, only to meet Evelyne’s steely gaze, blood streaking her cheek from a stray spell. "We’re not all fools," she muttered, her voice firm, her shield raised to deflect an arrow aimed at Kael’s back.

She stepped beside him, blocking another strike meant for his ribs, her Earth Dao aura grounding the battlefield with unyielding resolve.

A second figure joined—Dorian, his face bruised from his own trials, his qi fluctuating but his stance unwavering. "We don’t kill our own," he growled, his blade flashing to parry a spear thrust from the crowd.

Kael blinked, surprise flickering through his exhaustion. "You—"

"Shut up and fight!" Dorian snapped, his aura flaring with a surge of Wind Dao, scattering a group of attackers.

The tide shifted, the mob’s momentum faltering under the combined pressure of Kael’s allies. Sera threw herself into the fray, her Force Dao erupting in a wave that slammed two cultivators to the ground, their qi disrupted by her raw power.

From the rear, Lysara stepped forward at last, her presence a beacon of authority, her voice booming across the plain. "Enough!"

The crowd froze, their auras wavering under the weight of her command. Lysara’s Royal Path aura exploded, a golden tide of spiritual pressure that washed over the battlefield like a divine edict.

Several cultivators dropped to their knees, their dantians trembling, unable to withstand her qi. The white-robed figures remained still, their masked smiles dimming, their spiritual senses probing Lysara’s intent.

"Fight him again," Lysara said, her voice cold and unyielding, "and you face me first."

Kael sagged, every limb trembling, his Silver Lotus Flame dimming as it retreated into his dantian, its spiritual resonance fading. Evelyne grunted, steadying him with a hand on his arm.

"That was too close," she muttered, her gaze scanning the crowd for further threats.

Kael’s voice was barely a rasp, raw from exertion and pain. "It’s not over."

His silver eyes never left the white-robed figures, their aloof postures a silent promise of future conflict.

The taller one raised a hand in a mocking farewell, its voice soft but laced with venom. "We’ll meet again, cultivator. And next time, no one will save you."

Kael didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The crimson mark on his forearm pulsed faintly, a quiet vow etched into his spirit. Next time, he wouldn’t need saving.

He would master the shard, refine the Silver Lotus Flame, and end the threat of the Forbidden Lotus’s legacy—not as its victim, but as its warden.

The plain grew quiet, the mob dispersing under Lysara’s gaze, their greed tempered by fear. Kael stood, bloodied but unbroken, his allies at his side, the Ascension Pagoda looming behind him like a silent sentinel.

The trials of Floor 18 had forged him anew, but the path ahead was fraught with peril, the white-robed figures and the Whisper’s lingering shadow a reminder that his journey was far from over.

With a steady breath, Kael sheathed Abyssal Fang, its spiritual essence resonating with his resolve. He was no longer just a cultivator of the Silent Eclipse and Crescent Requiem—he was a warden of a power that could reshape fate. And he would walk that path, no matter the cost, ready to face whatever challenges the heavens decreed.

The wind howled across the scorched plain, a mournful dirge that carried the lingering scent of burnt qi, ozone, and charred earth, a testament to the chaos that had erupted in the wake of Kael’s emergence from the Ascension Pagoda.

Blood seeped into his tattered robes, most of it his own, staining the fabric with a crimson map of his trials. His limbs trembled with exhaustion, his meridians strained from channeling the Silver Lotus Flame, yet his silver eyes burned with an unyielding resolve, a beacon of defiance in the fading light of dusk.

Around him, the battlefield lay empty, its cracked stone and wilted grass steaming faintly, as if the earth itself mourned the greed that had consumed its cultivators.

Kael stood silent, his aura sealed tight, a quiet storm contained within his dantian. Evelyne remained at his side, her shield still strapped to her arm, her Earth Dao aura steady despite her ragged breathing, her qi reserves depleted from deflecting stray attacks.

Dorian leaned heavily on his blade, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched, his Wind Dao flickering like a candle in a storm. Sera sat a few paces away, her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes distant, haunted by the mob’s madness.

Lysara stood apart, her arms crossed, her Royal Path aura withdrawn but lingering like a silent warning, its golden resonance a barrier that kept the remaining onlookers at bay.

Kael turned to them, his voice low and measured, carrying the weight of a cultivator who had seen the abyss and returned. "They’ll come again," he said, his words slicing through the stillness. "Next time, they’ll be stronger. And they won’t come alone."

Lysara’s eyes narrowed, her spiritual senses probing the crimson mark on Kael’s forearm, its faint pulse a siren call to those who coveted its power.

"Then you must leave," she declared, her tone sharp but tempered with pragmatism, a leader weighing the survival of her house against the fate of one man.

The group turned to her, surprise flickering across their faces. "Lysara—" Evelyne began, her voice tinged with protest, but Lysara raised a hand, her gesture commanding silence.

"You know it too," she continued, her gaze unwavering. "He carries the Forbidden Lotus, a relic that radiates a spiritual signature every major sect, clan, and rogue cultivator would kill to possess. Its essence clings to him like a shadow, drawing predators from across the realms."

Dorian spat to the side, his Wind Dao flaring briefly in defiance. "So what? We abandon him? Hand him over to those vultures?"

"No," Lysara replied, her voice cold but resolute. "But if he stays, House Veyne becomes the next battlefield.

The Lotus’s allure will turn Wolfswood into a crucible of blood and qi, and none of us—not even I—can shield him from the storm that’s coming."

Kael didn’t argue. He had known this truth since the white-robed figures reached for him outside the pagoda, their sigils pulsing with a hunger that mirrored the mob’s greed.

The Forbidden Lotus was a curse, its power a double-edged blade that illuminated his path while casting a beacon into the darkness, summoning not just moths but monsters—sects with ancient grudges, clans with divine ambitions, and beings whose cultivation defied mortal limits.

The crimson mark on his forearm, etched by the lotus’s shard, was a brand, a vow, and a burden he could not escape.

"I’ll go," Kael said, his voice calm, a quiet acceptance of the path before him.

Sera’s head snapped up, her Force Dao flaring in protest. "What? No! We’ve fought together, bled together— you can’t just leave!"

"And now they’ll come for *me*," Kael interrupted, his silver eyes meeting hers, steady and unyielding. "Not you. Not House Veyne. Me. If I stay, they’ll burn everything around me to reach the Lotus. I won’t let that happen."

"But—" Sera’s voice cracked, her qi trembling with emotion.

Kael walked to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding her turbulent aura. "I won’t die," he said softly, a promise carved into his words. "Not until this is over. But my path lies elsewhere now, and I need you to trust me."

Lysara gave a single nod, her Royal Path aura softening slightly, a rare concession of respect. "There’s a safe route west through the Breachwood Pass," she said. "It’s hidden, shrouded by natural qi formations that mask spiritual signatures. It will take you out of Wolfswood unnoticed. After that... you’re on your own."

Kael didn’t flinch, his resolve as unyielding as tempered jade. "Good."

Dorian stepped forward, his bruised face set with determination, his Wind Dao stirring the air around him. "You sure you’re ready for this, Kael?"

"No," Kael admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But I can’t wait to be."