HEY RUNT

Uriel stood in the ruined city.

Rubble everywhere. Buildings moments away from collapse. Shattered mirrors, cracked glass, blood, and corpses.

But none of that worried him.

What did?

His bare behind, swaying in the open wind.

"You've got to be kidding me?!"

Uriel shouted into the void, fury in every word.

"I survived a group of shitty people, ran for days, forced myself to drink and eat poison, tried to kill that damn Stalker, it evolved—evolved!—I still killed it, and the damn Structure couldn't reward me with clothes?!"

He ruffled his hair in frustration—hair that now gleamed even brighter than before, catching the light with a shine that was almost unnatural. It cascaded over his shoulders like spun moonlight, impossibly clean despite the battle he'd just endured.

"Aha," Uriel muttered. "That damn Runt should have something I can take."

He turned to leave, then froze—caught sight of a broken shard of mirror embedded in a half-fallen wall. And what he saw stopped him cold.

It was himself.

Or rather, what he had become.

Uriel had always been beautiful. Ethereal, really—white hair, golden eyes, the kind of beauty that made people uncomfortable, obsessed, violent. But now...

Now he looked divine.

Lean muscle traced his form like sculpted marble—no longer malnourished, but honed, radiant. His skin gleamed with a subtle, impossible glow, untouched by grime or age. He was tall—at least six feet now—and absurdly proportioned. His eyes, still golden, glowed faintly with a soft inner fire.

No human should look like this.

If anyone—man or woman, rich or poor—saw him now, they would abandon family, status, and reason for a chance to possess him.

Uriel's face paled.

Not from awe.

From fear.

"Shit..."

He dropped to the ground and grabbed a handful of dirt, smearing it across his face. Rubbed ashes into his hair. Tried to dull the shine of his skin with soot and dust. Even then, the glow beneath it all persisted—like trying to hide a star behind torn cloth.

"This is bad," he muttered. "If anyone powerful sees me like this… I'll be their toy."

With a grunt, he moved. For the next hour, Uriel walked—still naked—hiding behind every large slab of rubble, every broken wall, anything to avoid being seen. The wind blew mockingly behind him.

Eventually, he reached the place.

Two massive stone slabs leaning against each other, forming a makeshift tent. The entrance was covered with torn, stained cloth.

"I guess I really am a cultivator," Uriel muttered. "A walk that should've taken me three hours only took one."

He stepped inside, still bare as a newborn.

A small person stood at a table inside, hunched over a strange tool—long, thin, with a hook at the end. A candle flickered beside them.

"Hey, Runt!"

Uriel's voice boomed. The figure flinched, turned—and screamed.

"AHHHH! GET OUT OR I'LL MAKE YOU REGRET IT! I'M FRIENDS WITH A REBORN RANK CULTIVATOR, YOU NAKED PERVERT!"

Uriel glanced around, grabbed a chunk of scrap metal off the floor, and threw it at the small figure's feet.

"YOU DAMN RUNT! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT LYING?! AND REBORN?! REALLY?! NO ONE'S GONNA BELIEVE THAT!"

The figure stood revealed in the candlelight—a small, dirt-smeared boy in overalls with a smudged face and big, black eyes with ginger colored hair and almond colored skin. He was barely over four feet tall, barefoot, and looked like a child pretending to be a scavenger.

Recognition hit.

"URIEL!!! I MISSED YOU!!"

Runt leapt toward him.

Uriel sidestepped.

Runt faceplanted into the stone floor.

"Runt. I'm naked. I'm not going to hug you like this. Get me some clothes first, then we can talk."

Runt groaned, rubbing his nose. "Oh… right! Sorry, Uriel! But remember—you gotta pay for them!"

He scampered back to his table, crawled under it, and opened a battered old chest.

"This is all I got! You're taller than me, so the only thing that might work is this!"

He pulled out a long strip of gray cloth—dusty, ragged, but wide.

He turned around—and screamed again.

"DID YOU GET TALLER?! AND MUSCULAR!! HOW?! THIS WORLD IS SO FUCKING UNFAIR!! AHHHHH!"

Uriel looked around for another piece of metal to throw, but couldn't find one.

"SHUT UP AND GIVE ME THE CLOTH, I DON'T WANT MY DING-DONG HANGING IN THE WIND!"

Runt shoved the cloth into his arms. Uriel wrapped it around his waist and shoulders until it looked like a tattered toga. Finally… dignity.

He sat down on a pile of broken stone in Runt's makeshift home.

"So, Uriel," Runt began, eyes wide. "How'd you get so tall? And lose your clothes? Did someone take them? You know if I was there—"

Uriel raised a hand.

Runt shut up instantly.

"Sorry, Runt. I'll explain later. I just… I need a minute."

Uriel leaned forward, his thoughts racing back to the trial.

"Who is the Celestial of Life?"It was strong enough to interrupt the Structure. Strong enough to enter his body without his permission. To become his core.

Why?

And then there was the other being—the one who revived the Stalker and made it stronger. The one who rewarded him grudgingly.

Uriel ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"There's no point trying to guess everything. Let's just see what powers I've got."

He stood up, eyes narrowing. The Structure had said he could perceive time in slow motion. But how?

Uriel focused—hard.

Nothing.

He had Runt throw rocks at him.

Still nothing.

"DAMN IT! This is useless!"

Frustrated, he turned his attention to the thing he could try—the Vein.

He extended his hand.

Nothing.

He clenched his fist. Focused harder.

Still nothing.

Then he tried to focus from his core.

Uriel reached inside himself with his mind, pulling at the one of his cores the flame-like core. It responded—burning red, crackling with energy.

He dragged that energy into his arm.

And then—

FWOOOM!

A white-hot flame erupted from his palm.

Uriel laughed.

"HAHA! It worked! It really worked!"

Behind him, Runt screamed, ducking under the table.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!"

Uriel didn't answer. He jumped and spun in place, pure joy radiating from him like heat from a furnace.

Eventually, he calmed. Turned to face the terrified Runt, and with a grin said:

"Oh, by the way, Runt—I forgot to tell you.

I'm a cultivator now."