Progress and World Announcement

It had been four months since the training isle, and eight months total under Uncle Vaeril's tender guidance.

Tender, of course, meaning: soul-crushing, bone-grinding, back-breaking... and oddly character-building.

After those early weeks of being tossed at wild wolves (literally), sleeping in half-soaked camps during surprise downpours, and learning how to cook questionable meat over questionable fires—Arkiz was beginning to suspect his uncle had a secret vendetta against children.

Still, he survived.

More than that, he came back stronger. Leaner. Slightly traumatized, sure, but with better footwork.

The return from the training isle marked the start of the second arc of pain: Father Edition. After inspecting Arkiz like a merchant evaluating a sword, Raen handed him a thin, leather-bound martial book with a single phrase:

"You can start this now. You finally have some muscle."

Encouraging.

The book, titled "Foundations of the Inner Current", was a Ryla family classic. Every child in the family trained with it before awakening, because it wasn't aligned to any element. Just pure body-tempering and energy circulation. Uncle Vaeril taught him the poses and breathing techniques over the course of a week.

It was hell. The kind where you discover new muscles simply because they're on fire.

At some point, Arkiz groaned out during training, "Can't I just scan this thing with Omniscript? Wouldn't that be smarter?"

Raen, who had walked in mid-stretch session, snorted. "You think you can learn martial discipline from a skill card? What next? Download abs from the Archive?"

Arkiz tried not to laugh. Failed.

"Only Skill Cards and Technique Cards are instantly usable. Cultivation manuals, martial arts, and body forging books require effort. The Omniscript can only track your progress in those, not spoon-feed you," Raen added.

Fair. Stupid. But fair.

Now, three months into practicing the manual, Arkiz was in his massive bathroom—which, to be fair, was more like a private hot spring carved into the floor.

He sat in the warm water, eyes closed, controlling his breathing just like the book taught. Slow. Focused. Cycles of tension and release.

And then—

Blorp.

It wasn't exactly a dignified sound, but black smudges began to seep out of his skin like oily ink. It floated atop the water, swirling slightly.

His nose wrinkled. "Ugh. That's worse than last time."

Second wave of impurity cleansing. Apparently, the manual was working.

After a while, he opened his eyes, sighed, and pulled himself out of the now suspiciously murky pool. A proper rinse, some herbal soap, and a whole towel-fluffing session later, he stepped out fresh.

His skin looked clearer. Glowed a little. Like one of those skincare ads but with actual monster-level effort behind it.

He threw on his usual go-to: a crisp white shirt and cream-colored shorts. Clean, breezy, unreasonably classy for someone who just cooked out his insides.

A few minutes later, he was seated in the balcony alcove of his room—a covered pavilion-style nook overlooking the Vaelmir drizzle.

Tea in hand. One leg over the other. Face resting on his palm like he was born for elegant brooding.

The rain pitter-pattered gently across the tiled roof. The scent of mist and clean leaves drifted in. And somewhere deep inside, something felt... balanced.

Not awakened. Not powerful. But steady.

"Huh," he muttered, taking a sip. "Maybe I'm actually getting the hang of this."

The cup clicked lightly on the saucer. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

Then a distant shout echoed from the lower training grounds.

Vaeril: "ARKY! STOP POSING AND GET BACK TO WORK!"

Arkiz sighed. Peace never lasted long.

He was just about to push himself up and head back to training when—

The sky darkened

The gentle afternoon drizzle turned violent, hammering the rooftop like a war drum. Noon faded into a false twilight. Every bird went silent. Every shadow deepened.

Then it came. The voice.

Booming. Cold. Unmistakably Omniscript.

✦✦✦ [ WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT ] ✦✦✦

❖ THE THIRD SUPREME OF DECAY HAS BEEN BORN ❖

Arkiz froze.

Above the skies of Vireya, clouds churned and twisted like a hurricane coiled in place. A shimmering screen formed in the sky itself—visible from every city, village, and uninhabited isle.

A moving image began to play.

It showed a battlefield blanketed in rot. The earth was cracked and blackened, the trees twisted into husks. Corpses of Nullborns littered the scene, some reduced to piles of gray ash.

At the center stood a lone figure.

A girl.

Ragged black armor hung from her scarred body, half-burned, half-decayed. An oversized greatsword rested against her shoulder, its edge crusted in blackened ichor. Her torn cloak billowed in the foul wind. She didn't look back at first—only stood, back to the world, facing the ruined horizon.

Then the image zoomed.

She turned.

Silver-white hair clung to her cheeks. One eye was hidden under a shadowed fringe, but the other—

Black. Empty. Like a starless sky.

A beauty marred by war, her expression unreadable. Her slightly pointed ears marked her as a half-elf. Her entire being radiated exhaustion, pain... and power.

Then she smirked.

A crooked, defiant smirk—like she had just survived death itself and dared it to try again.

The voice returned.

✦✦✦ [ WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT ] ✦✦✦

❖ ZERISE NORZÉ RYLA HAS BEEN RECOGNIZED AS THE THIRD SUPREME OF THE DECAY ELEMENT ❖

Then, the image vanished.

Silence echoed.

For three seconds.

And then—

A bellow shook the manor's halls–

"THAT'S MY GIRL RIGHT THERE, F**KERS!"

Raen Veyr Ryla's voice roared through the manor like a thunderclap, rattling windows and nearly shaking a chandelier loose.

Arkiz blinked.