Path of BlooDld

The wild never sleeps, never quiets, and never shows mercy. Even the air in this place seemed to bleed, and every breath Ashen pulled into his lungs was filled with a rusty scent—a mix of iron and ancient blood.

The cracks in the ground told stories of forgotten battles, of creatures that vanished, and others still watching from deep within the shadows. And in the heart of all this ruin, Ashen stood. Alone, yet no longer weaker than this devastation… in fact, he was slowly beginning to surpass the limits of his former body.

A faint voice from his old memories, his father's voice, slipped in from a distant place:

"If you want to break through to the Blood Warrior rank, don't just repeat what you've learned. Plant a technique born from your blood, your understanding. Only then will you become the weapon—not the one holding it."

He breathed slowly, watching his hands. The blood in his veins moved as if responding to an unheard whisper. In front of him stood a wild creature, not covered in skin, but in cracked black armor, faint flames seeping from it.

The creature growled—and charged.

Ashen didn't move. The moment slowed beyond time.

"Bloody Bear Fist."

Behind him, massive bloody arms appeared, like the silent roar of an ancient bear's spirit. His own arms swelled, and when the collision came… it sounded like thunder.

The creature flew three meters before shattering against a rock.

But Ashen wasn't satisfied.

Strikes, blood, techniques… they were all impressive, but they weren't "him."

He focused his strength again. This time, he summoned the ability that had begun to awaken with the refinement of the first rank of the Primordial Body Technique:

Primordial Iron Skin.

His body transformed in seconds. His skin turned into dark metal, pulsing from within. Ordinary swords couldn't scratch it. Spiritual energy shattered against it.

But the problem wasn't toughness—it was mystery. The power he had gained… wasn't enough.

He returned to his cave, its walls still stained with blood from yesterday's fights.

He sat down, closed his eyes, and began to recall:

The Flowing Blood Technique

The Three Steps of Pulse

The Refinement Sequence of the Blood King's Fist

But one thing was missing from them all: the signature.

"These are all forgotten techniques, carried by the clan from the past… but who am I? What suits me?"

Sometimes, he would hear a whisper inside:

"Make a weapon from your weakness. Turn your pain into power."

Suddenly, he remembered something.

As a child, he used to suffer strange attacks—blackouts accompanied by excruciating pain in his right arm.

They thought it was an illness, but one day his father whispered:

"Your body hides a bloodline we've never seen before. Don't think it's a curse… it's a sleeping beast. One day, you'll understand."

Ashen sighed, then stood.

Outside the cave, four creatures were waiting this time.

They let out warning cries. Each of them was a threat to a blood trainee.

Ashen didn't retreat.

This time, he wasn't fighting to display the strength of a technique… but to search, in every strike, in every detail, for the core of his own power.

The first beast charged, its claw dripping with poison.

He dodged the strike with a precise slide, and responded with a slanted bear fist that shattered a rib in its chest.

The second attacked from behind, but the iron skin deflected the strike and broke its fang.

The third tried to blast him with energy, but he absorbed it with the "Reversed Blood Pulse Technique" and redirected it toward the fourth.

In the end, all four beasts fell.

But he was exhausted.

His body was telling him: "You're nearing the edge."

He sat again, heart pounding hard. He felt as if his blood was boiling—not from fatigue, but because it was trying to speak.

He whispered:

"I'll create a technique… a technique of my own."

He looked at his arms and imagined a new shape for the aura—not the form of a bear, but the form of a ghost rising from his inner scream. No distinct shape—just waves following his fury.

This was the beginning of something new…

But he didn't know that the first step toward "refining a personal technique"… would awaken something else inside him.

A face appear

ed on the cave wall behind him.

It hadn't been there moments ago.

And it wasn't a human face.