Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 114: Amara

Chapter 114: Amara

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

Dorian stepped forward a few paces, 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."

They didn’t linger. By nightfall, Kael had gathered what little he needed—Abyssal Fang, its spiritual essence humming in his grasp; a handful of low-grade healing pills to stabilize his meridians; his cracked mask, a relic of battles past; and a spare set of robes pressed into his hands by Evelyne, their fabric infused with a faint Earth Dao ward.

They stood at the edge of the Breachwood Pass as the moon rose, its silver light casting long shadows across the rugged path ahead. No words were exchanged; their bond, forged in blood and trial, spoke louder than any farewell.

Before he departed, Evelyne stepped forward, her aura steady despite the exhaustion etched into her features. She pressed a small talisman into his palm, its surface etched with a minor binding array, its qi pulsing faintly.

"Call it," she said, her voice firm, her eyes locking with his. "If you’re ever outnumbered, I’ll come. No matter the distance."

Kael’s faint smile returned, a flicker of warmth in the cold night. "You won’t have to."

Dorian gave him a warrior’s nod, his Wind Dao swirling briefly, a silent vow. "Keep walking, Kael. Don’t stop."

With a final glance at his companions, Kael turned and stepped into the pass, the forest swallowing him whole, its shadows dancing with each step he took.

His injuries screamed, his meridians aching under the strain of his depleted qi, but he pushed through, his will a blade that cut through pain and doubt. He couldn’t stop—not here, not now, not when the Forbidden Lotus’s shadow loomed over him like a celestial calamity.

For three days and nights, Kael ran, his aura sealed tight, his qi buried deep within his dantian to avoid detection.

He navigated the Breachwood Pass under cover of clouds, his spiritual senses alert to every shift in the natural qi, every rustle of leaves or snap of twigs. Once, he spotted a trio of masked cultivators scouting the area, their auras tinged with a predatory intent, their qi probing the forest for traces of the Lotus.

Kael stayed low, circling wide, his Silent Eclipse Dao cloaking his presence like a ghost, his footsteps leaving no trace on the moss-covered earth.

He traveled alone, through dense forests where ancient trees pulsed with latent qi, across rivers whose waters shimmered with faint spiritual essence, and past ruined shrines buried in moss, their altars cracked and forgotten, their wards long since faded.

The distant howls of spirit beasts echoed through the night, their cries laced with primal hunger, but Kael pressed on, undeterred.

Once, a shadow passed overhead—a flying sword or a cultivator’s scout, its qi signature too fleeting to identify. Kael didn’t look, his focus fixed on the path ahead, his heart steady despite the dangers lurking in the wilds.

On the fourth day, a cold, sudden rain descended, soaking through his robes and blood-crusted bandages, its chill seeping into his bones. Still, he walked, his body numbed to the pain, his meridians slowly stabilizing under the influence of the healing pills.

By the time he reached the edges of the Deadflame Marsh, a cursed land shrouded in fog and decay, Kael found a strange peace in its desolation.

The marshlands were foul—damp, miasmic, crawling with twisted beasts whose forms defied heaven’s design, their qi warped by the land’s corrupted essence.

Yet here, in this forsaken place, Kael felt a respite, a sanctuary where no sect or clan would dare pursue him.

Or so he thought.

One night, as he crouched by a stagnant pool to tend a deep cut on his leg, the crimson mark on his forearm pulsed, a faint but insistent rhythm that stirred his dantian.

A whisper brushed the edge of his consciousness—not a voice, but a presence, ancient and watchful, its intent probing the boundaries of his soul. Kael clenched his fist, his Silver Lotus Flame stirring within his dantian, its light restrained but restless, yearning for release.

He stared inward, visualizing the flame at the core of his cultivation—bright, cold, beautiful, and dangerous, a manifestation of the Forbidden Lotus purified by his will.

He meditated through the night, his breath a rhythmic cycle of inhalation and exhalation, each cycle a battle to temper the Lotus’s wild nature.

With every second, he molded its chaos, fusing it with his Silent Eclipse Dao and Crescent Requiem, drawing on the insights gained during the pagoda’s trials—the Sword Path’s precision, the Eldritch Reversal’s defiance, and the control he had wrested from the Gatekeeper’s final phase.

His meridians hummed, his dantian stabilizing as he wove the Lotus Flame into his spiritual foundation, a thread of harmony where once there had been only resistance.

When dawn broke, Kael opened his eyes, his aura calm but sharper, and his grip on the Lotus deepened. He wasn’t stronger—not yet—but his control had grown, a delicate balance between restraint and release.

The crimson mark pulsed faintly, a reminder of the shard’s power and the Whisper’s lingering shadow, but Kael’s will held firm, a warden’s resolve forged in the crucible of choice.

Yet the danger was far from over. On the seventh night, as he crossed a quiet stream, its waters shimmering with faint Yin essence, a sound broke the silence—footsteps, not heavy or rushed, but steady, deliberate, resonating with a refined qi that set Kael’s instincts ablaze.

He spun, drawing Abyssal Fang, his aura spiking for the first time in days, the Silver Lotus Flame flaring in his dantian, ready to unleash its wrath.

From the fog emerged a figure clad in white robes and an ivory mask, smiling with serene malice. The air around her shimmered with a subtle spiritual pressure, her qi a blend of poison and life, a paradox that twisted the natural flow of the marsh’s essence.

Kael didn’t wait. The Silver Lotus Flame surged, silver light spiraling down Abyssal Fang’s edge, its spiritual resonance amplifying the blade’s intent.

His foot slammed against the wet earth, channeling a pulse of Earth Dao to propel him forward, his form vanishing in a blur of shadow and flame.

He reappeared behind the figure, his dagger slicing toward her spine—but his blade met only air, the figure flickering and reforming a dozen meters away, her aura untouched.

"Impressive," she said, her voice feminine, smooth, and laced with amusement, its tone resonating with a high-grade spiritual charm that tugged at Kael’s meridians. "You’ve improved since challenging the Ascension Pagoda."

Kael’s eyes narrowed, his spiritual senses locking onto her qi signature. "You’re one of the three from the pagoda," he said, his voice cold, his Crescent Requiem Dao sharpening his perception.

She gave a graceful bow, her robes flowing like mist, her mask glinting under the moonlight. "Amara of the Verdant Shroud," she introduced, her tone playful but edged with danger. "We weren’t properly introduced amid the chaos."

Kael remained silent, his grip on Abyssal Fang unwavering, his aura coiled like a dragon poised to strike.

"You’re wondering why I’m here," Amara continued, tilting her head, her mask’s smile widening. "Why I’m alone. Why I haven’t struck yet."

"Say it," Kael demanded, his voice a low growl, his Silver Lotus Flame pulsing in warning.

Amara chuckled, the sound of a ripple of qi that stirred the fog around them. "Because I’m not here to kill you, Kael, Warden of the Lotus. Not yet. I’m here to test you—to see if the shard’s chosen bearer is worthy of the storm you’ve unleashed."

She moved, her form dissolving into mist and shadow, closing the gap in an instant. Her palm glowed with a strange green qi, a fusion of poison and vitality that reeked of decay and rebirth, its essence twisting the air like a venomous serpent.

Kael blocked with the flat of Abyssal Fang, the impact shattering the stone beneath them, a shockwave of clashing qi rippling through the marsh. A kick followed, swift and precise, but Kael ducked, his Silent Eclipse Dao cloaking his movements in shadow.

His blade lashed out, a silver arc infused with Lotus Flame, but Amara weaved past, her mist-walking footwork defying spatial constraints. Their auras clashed in bursts of silver and green, the Silver Lotus Flame’s purifying light warring against the Verdant Shroud’s toxic vitality.

Each strike was a dance of precision and power, Kael’s Sword Path meeting Amara’s elusive techniques, their spiritual resonances shaking the marsh’s corrupted qi.

Minutes stretched into an eternity, each exchange a test of will and skill. Kael adapted, his Crescent Requiem Dao honing his perception, finding the rhythm in Amara’s movements.

He shifted his stance, his blade spinning with brutal grace, a silver arc slashing through her guard, drawing a thin line of blood across her arm.