Martial Arts Vs Magic - Chapter 131

Chapter 131: Infinitely Worse?

The world twisted inside out, colors bleeding together like wet paint before snapping back into focus. Lailah's stomach lurched as her feet found solid ground again, the transition from Nevaramis's grand plaza to this new space jarring her senses.

She blinked, taking in their surroundings. 

They stood in what could only be described as a marriage between ancient alchemy and impossible technology. Glass tubes snaked across the ceiling like frozen lightning, pulsing with ghostly light. Workbenches of polished obsidian held instruments she couldn't name; some looked like they belonged in a healer's tent, while others seemed torn from the fever dreams of mad artificers.

But what drew her eye was the massive green cube dominating the chamber's center. It wasn't quite solid, wasn't quite liquid—more like captured emerald fire given geometric form. Steam rose from its surface in lazy spirals, carrying scents of herbs both familiar and alien. The air was dense with who knew what, pressing against her skin like silk soaked in starlight.

"You've prepared everything?" The man who’d lied to her about everything, down to his very name, Iskandaar, asked Stratos. Despite everything, his voice carried that casual confidence that made impossible things sound routine.

"Every last ingredient, plus several extras I thought might prove useful." Stratos produced a list that unfurled like a scroll, the parchment seemingly endless. "Heartblood of a Crimson Wyrm, harvested at the peak of a solar eclipse. This was in Nevaramis’ storage. Tears of a Weeping Golem, collected during a thunderstorm. Void-touched Nightshade, grown in absolute darkness for thirteen years."

She continued listing ingredients, each more exotic than the last. Lailah felt like a village girl wandering the city. She did catch fragments, such as "essence of fallen stars," "powdered dragon scale," "distilled screams of the innocent"—wait, what?

"That last one's a joke," Stratos added with a wink. "As you asked, I substituted with the essence of mandrake root. Similar properties, less ethical concerns."

"We have to draw the line somewhere," Iskandaar muttered, circling the cube with a critical eye. Blood had been drawn across the floor in intricate patterns, forming circles within circles, each line precise as a master calligrapher's stroke. The symbols crawled up the walls too, odd eastern characters that seemed to shift when she wasn't looking directly at them.

"Hmm, not yet, there's not everything," he said, turning to face her. Something flickered across his expression—hesitation? Embarrassment? On him, it looked foreign as snow in the desert. "This is awkward since I warned you about this just two days ago, but... can I get some of your blood?"

Lailah blinked. The irony wasn't lost on her—he'd told her no when she offered, and practically threatened death to anyone who'd dare ask the same of her, and now here he stood, looking like a boy caught stealing dates from the market.

A smile tugged at her lips. "How much?"

"Just a syringe's worth. I promise I won't bottle you up and sell you to vampires."

"Such reassurance," she said dryly, rolling up her sleeve. "Though I notice you specified vampires. What about werewolves? Dragons? Particularly thirsty Jinn?"

She’d heard stories of her kind eating each other for power, which made her shiver now. But his laugh was reassuring. "I make no promises about Jinn. They have excellent taste. Such as the one in front of me."

Stratos produced a syringe from thin air—or perhaps just teleported it from the storage. The needle slipped into Lailah's arm with barely a pinch. As blood filled the vial, both Iskandaar and Stratos leaned forward, eyes widening.

"Is that..." Stratos began.

"Purple," Iskandaar finished. "Your blood has purple in it."

Lailah glanced down at the syringe. Sure enough, veins of violet threaded through the crimson like oil on water, catching the light with an otherworldly shimmer. "Is that bad?"

"Not bad," Iskandaar shrugged. "Just a little surprising. Even Elves bleed red, you know? As do Gold Dragons. So I’m a little surprised."

Stratos moved to the cube, carefully adding the blood drop by drop. The moment it touched the surface, the entire mass shifted from emerald to deep purple, which swirled with green, the color of bruised twilight, of depths where sunlight had never touched.

Iskandaar released a long breath. "Well, no turning back now."

He began stripping without ceremony, each piece of clothing hitting the floor with practiced efficiency. Lailah squeaked, spinning around so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. Her hands flew to cover her eyes, though she definitely peeked through her fingers. Just a little.

"At times like this, you're supposed to be bold," Stratos chided, shaking her head like a disappointed grandmother. "Ahh, I don't think you'll survive the harsh battle of love against the others if you can't even look at him naked."

"I'm being respectful!" Lailah protested, her face burning hotter than desert noon. “And… I have no intention of fighting for his love.”

"You're being adorable," Stratos corrected. "There's a difference."

She heard the splash as Iskandaar entered the cube, followed immediately by a sharp intake of breath.

"How does it feel?" Stratos asked, all business now.

"Like drinking liquid lightning while gargling molten lead," came the strained reply. "Exactly as advertised."

For the first few minutes, he maintained that forced casualness, cracking jokes between increasingly labored breaths. But as the ritual progressed, as the liquid boiled, the humor died. Grunts became groans. Groans became something worse.

The first scream tore from his throat like a living thing, raw and primal. Lailah's hands fell from her eyes, concern overriding embarrassment. She watched in horror as his body convulsed, muscles cording like a ship's rope under storm-tossed seas.

"Is this normal?" she demanded, taking an involuntary step forward. "He sounds like he's dying!"

"The boundary between death and transformation is thinner than most realize," Stratos replied, but Lailah caught the tension in her voice. The android's golden eyes never left the cube, monitoring with an intensity that betrayed her casual words.

The screaming continued. Worse than the volume was the quality—she'd heard men die in the desert, heard the particular pitch of mortal agony. This surpassed that. This was the sound of someone being unmade at the fundamental level, every cell rebelling against its new configuration.

Purple liquid bubbled and churned, occasionally revealing glimpses of Iskandaar within. His skin had taken on an angry red cast, veins standing out like black rivers against crimson earth. She watched his missing arm—the stump seemed to writhe, flesh bubbling and reforming only to dissolve again.

"I- I think there’s something wrong. Is it because of my blood? We should stop this," Lailah said, her voice cracking. "This can't be right. Nothing that causes this much pain can be right."

"I've received strict orders from him to not stop at any cost," Stratos said firmly. But her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, betraying her own anxiety.

An hour passed. Two. The screaming had long since shredded Iskandaar's voice, leaving only animal sounds of suffering. Lailah found herself pacing, her newly awakened power stirring restlessly beneath her skin. The Leviathan within her recognized kindred transformation, even as the human part recoiled from witnessing such agony.

Then, suddenly, silence.

The absence of screaming felt louder than the noise itself. Iskandaar's body had sunk completely beneath the surface, not even bubbles marking where he'd gone under.

"How long can he hold his breath?" Lailah whispered.

"With his constitution? Thirty minutes, perhaps forty." Stratos's frown deepened. "It's been two. And my previous estimation is considering he has the mental capacity to hold his breath consciously."

"We need to—"

"Wait." Stratos held up a hand. "Look at the water."

The deep purple was fading, color bleeding away like dye in rain. From twilight to lavender, from lavender to the faintest blush of violet, until finally the liquid ran clear as mountain springs.

They could see him now, curled at the bottom like a child in the womb. Still. Too still.

"Iskandaar!" Lailah started forward, but before she could reach the cube's edge, the surface exploded.

He erupted from the water like some primordial god of the deep, sending droplets cascading in perfect arcs. Lailah's breath caught. 

This wasn't the man who'd entered the cube.

His right arm was whole, perfectly formed as if it had never known the touch of holy steel. Muscle rippled beneath skin that seemed to glow with inner light, each movement a study in controlled power. His hair, darkened by water, fell past his shoulders in a wet curtain. But it was his eyes that stopped her cold—they blazed with such intensity she could almost feel the heat from across the room.

"Well?" Stratos prompted, a smile playing at her lips. "How do you feel, my Liege?"

Iskandaar looked down at his restored hand, flexing fingers that hadn't existed three hours ago. Oh, how excited he looked. Lailah liked seeing that happy look. Wonder flickered across his features, followed by something that might have been reverence. 

Then, in typical fashion, he destroyed the moment's gravity with his stupid words.

"Uh, I need a haircut."

****

The reflection staring back at me from the mirror was both familiar and profoundly alien. My right arm, once a stump of scarred flesh that even the potent waters of the Leviathan's Oasis couldn't mend, was now whole. A hand getting cut by Holy energy while it was being channeled with Demonic energy was nearly impossible to heal.

Now? The skin was flawless, the muscles perfectly defined, indistinguishable from the left. I clenched my fist, feeling the seamless flow of power, the complete absence of the phantom pain that had been my constant companion.

This wasn't just healing, this was a cosmic statement. The Heavenly Demon Body didn't just repair; it rewrote the rules.

The real proof of that wasn’t the arm. The true resurrection was internal. For the first time since Merasca, I could feel it properly. The deep, thrumming river of Qi flowing through me. My energy channels, scorched wastelands mere hours ago, were now pristine highways of power, wider and more resilient than before. It was like breathing again after being held underwater for far too long, an intoxicating rush of life and potential that made my head spin. Relief so profound it was almost painful washed over me. 

I was whole again.

Behind me, Lailah worked with surprising skill, trimming my hair back to something resembling civilization. Each snip of the scissors sent wet locks tumbling to the floor. "You know," she said conversationally, "most people would be more excited about regrowing an entire limb."

"Oh, I’m incredibly excited, don’t get me wrong, but I'm saving the show for when I test it in combat," I replied, watching her work in the mirror. "Premature celebration invites cosmic mockery."

"Cosmic mockery?"

"The universe has a sense of humor. Usually at my expense."

She laughed, the sound warming something in my chest. I turned my attention to the status window floating before me, invisible to her eyes.

[You’ve completed the Ascension Quest.]

[You've leveled up.]

[You've reached Level 100]

A milestone that should have taken years, achieved in months. Professor Katheran would spit blood if he knew. The thought brought a smile to my lips.

[You have successfully reached the Fifth Stage: Heavenly Demon Body.]

[Description: Your body has transformed into a true demonic vessel, capable of regenerating from grievous wounds at an immense speed and becoming impervious to nearly all forms of conventional attack.]

I could feel the truth of it in my bones. Every cell hummed with vitality. I could sense my heartbeat not just as a rhythm but as a drumbeat of power, each pulse sending waves of energy through channels that had been scorched wastelands mere hours ago.

That wasn’t all.

Somehow, I’d gained a new Skill after a long time. Well, it was an evolution. Sometimes it bothers me how difficult it is for me to gain skills. I heard some people have skills for Leaping and Stabbing. Cheaters.

[Due to your unusual set of skills and abilities, your eyes have gained unique properties. Since you already have an ocular skill to match, it has evolved the existing skill into a Unique Skill.]

[Skill 'Insight' has evolved into Skill ‘Sovereign's Gaze’.]

===

[Passive/Active Ability: Sovereign's Gaze]

Your perception has evolved. You no longer just see auras; you see the fundamental nature of energy itself. By focusing your gaze, you can perceive the "origin" of a person's or creature's power.

• All previous abilities of ‘Inspect’ [Click for Details]

• Phoenix Aspect: Allows you to see the "Life Flame" within living beings. You can gauge their vitality, their potential, and see the threads of life connecting them to the world. This makes it easier to target vital points or to understand the source of their regenerative abilities.

• Leviathan Aspect: Allows you to see the "Abyssal Echo" within demonic or magical beings. You can perceive the source of their demonic contract, the nature of their magical core, and any hidden weaknesses tied to their lineage or power source.

• Effect: This grants you an unparalleled tactical advantage. Against a fire mage, you might see that his power comes from a pact with an ifrit or fire spirit, allowing you to target the pact itself. Against a regenerating troll, you would see the "Life Flame" concentrated in its heart, revealing the true weak point.

===

Now this was interesting.

I was right with my theory that a Phoenix and a Devil’s energies would have unexpected properties. Who knew, perhaps there were other effects too that didn’t get translated by the System.

I focused on the new ability, feeling it settle behind my eyes like a second sight. When I looked at Lailah in the mirror, the world shifted. Her form remained, but overlaid with something more. Threads of deep blue energy coiled through her, dense as ocean trenches. I could see the Leviathan's mark on her soul, the way it had fundamentally altered her existence.

More than that, I could see the flame. 

Not the phoenix fire that Solara carried, but something different. A cold fire that burned in the depths, the vital force that animated her. If I concentrated, I could almost see the threads connecting her to the greater tapestry of existence.

"Why are you staring?" she asked, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

"Testing something." I let the ability fade, the overlay vanishing. "Your soul is very blue." I thought it’d be purple, given all the Leviathan theatrics.

"That's either poetic or concerning."

"Both, probably."

As she shook her head and returned to working my hair, I shifted my focus again. Status, I called in my head, and scrolled through the page, satisfaction growing with each line. 

°°°°°°

Name: Iskandaar Romani

Age: 20 years

Race: Demonic Human

Qi: 25400/25400

Level: 100 | 0% EXP

°°°

Class: Myth Slayer 

Class Level: [6/10]

Class Skills: 

• Mythrend [Active]

• Void Step [Active]

• Soul Sever [Active]

• Legendbreaker [Passive]

• Veil of the Slayer [Passive]

• Astral Rend [Active]

• Fate Unraveled [Active]

• Echoes of Oblivion [Active]

• Mythic Dominion [Active] 

• Astral Infusion [Passive]

°°°

General Skills:

• The Heavenly Demon Skill Tree [50.00%]

• Sovereign's Gaze [Unique]

• Swordsmanship [Grandmaster]

• Kickboxing [Grandmaster]

• Inner Focus [Intermediate]

• Mana Manipulation [Master]

°°°°°°

Twenty-five thousand Qi at my disposal, channels not just restored but matured. The skills, the abilities… all of it pointed to one undeniable fact.

I was back. No, I was more than back. I was transformed.

And yet, not all was good. My satisfaction curdled slightly.

[Race: Demonic Human]

"Hah, fuck," I muttered.

"Watch that mouth," Lailah chided automatically, then paused. "Wait, what's wrong?"

"Nothing major. Just became a different species." I kept my tone light, but my mind raced through the implications. "The Church is going to love this."

She stopped cutting, scissors hovering uncertainly. "Different species?"

"Technically, I've never considered myself fully human, but it seems now the System does the same. The ritual pushed me over some metaphysical line." I met her worried gaze in the mirror. "Don't look so concerned. I'm still handsome enough."

"...Your ego survived intact, I see."

"First thing I checked."

But beneath the banter, unease coiled in my gut. The Church already wanted my head. This would escalate things from 'dangerous heretic' according to Luminarch’s report, to 'abomination that must be purged' by the senses of any decent Holy knight. They should be able to sense the wrongness in me now, their blessed weapons singing for my blood.

I could hide it before by breathing techniques, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t help me much now. Even if I split my core into Stellar Qi and Destruction Qi, they’d just assume I’m a demon with those two affinities. Ugh… 

I sighed in my head. Doesn’t matter. I’ve already walked away from my previous life, this changes nothing at all. Power was power. And I'd need every advantage for what was coming.

"There," Lailah announced, stepping back. "You look almost respectable."

I stood, running fingers through hair now trimmed to shoulder length. "Almost?"

Instead of answering me, she began sweeping up the fallen hair, movements efficient. "So what now? Back to terrorizing princes and collecting girlfriends?"

The question stung more than it should have. "Lailah—"

"I'm joking." But she didn't meet my eyes. "Mostly."

I wanted to say something, to address the elephant in the room that was our complicated feelings. But what could I offer her? I wouldn't lie and say I'd change. Couldn't promise exclusivity I'd already given away. The kindest thing was distance, even if kindness felt like cowardice.

"Let's return to Scorpion's Kiss," I said instead. "Your father's probably worried."

"Changing the subject. Smooth."

"I excel at tactical retreats."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

I called for Stratos, who materialized with her usual flair. “Hello, my Liege and Madame. More coffee?” 

“Nope, we’re going to leave now,” I said, and met Lailah’s gaze one last time. I felt it again as our eyes met. That warm pulse of Soul Fire igniting in my chest, fed by her unwavering belief in me. It was stronger this time, easier to grasp. This new body wasn't an improper vessel like time; it was made for holding it. 

Curious, I extended my senses, reaching out through the strange, interconnected web I was only just beginning to perceive. I felt another pulse, closer, from Stratos—a sign that her loyalty was genuine, that she was more than just code. And then, faint as starlight on the horizon, I felt three more sparks of Soul Fire from across the continent. 

Nebula, Lilian, Solara. It had to be them. Well, maybe not Solara, I’m not sure if she’s awake. Amelia, then? Soul Fire, like Divinity, could be farmed by belief, among other things. And “belief” here wasn’t as simple as knowing I’m alive. 

Regardless, feeling these presences helped me relax further. Today was a good day. A smile touched my lips.

"Absolutely. Ready for transport, my liege?" Stratos asked.

“By the way, can I bring my father here?” Lailah asked before I could reply. “He… he’s a farmer. He can help with growing vegetables in the gardens.”

Stratos smiled kindly. “Madame Lailah, you’re a Councilwoman. You have more authority than you realize. Of course, family members are allowed.”

Lailah’s expressions brightened, which made me smile too. "We’ll do that then. The air and weather here are much better than Scorpion’s Kiss, he’d love it here. Stratos, give me the map,” I commanded, and she swiped her finger to bring the hologram map in front of me. The city “Scorpion’s Kiss” was marked nicely, but the areas around it were difficult to pinpoint. I clicked on a part. “Hmm… Not sure which part exactly, but this should do. Try to land us somewhere that won't require extensive hiking."

"I make no promises. Such long-distance teleportation is more art than science." She raised her hands, reality bending around her fingers. "Brace yourselves."

The world shattered into prismatic light. 

I felt Lailah's hand find mine. Instinct, probably, seeking anchor in the chaos. Her fingers were warm, calloused from farm work but somehow still soft. I didn't pull away. Small kindnesses didn't count as leading her on, right?

We materialized under the open sky, sand crunching beneath our feet. The familiar heat of the desert slammed into us harshly. I blinked, orienting myself. We'd landed perhaps three miles from the hut. Not bad, considering the distance involved.

"The wind tastes fun. Hold on tight," I told Lailah, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"What are you—kyah!"

The Photon Ring burst from my back, brighter and more stable than ever before. We shot into the sky, her surprised shriek lost in the wind. The desert blurred beneath us, dunes becoming waves in a sea of gold. Even travel by Photon Ring was faster than before. What had taken days now took minutes, which previously should taken a dozen.

We touched down soft as a whisper before her family's hut. Rafin stood in the field, back to us, tending the irrigation channels with the patience of a man who'd made peace with hard work.

"Father!" Lailah's joy was pure as spring water when I lowered her to the ground. 

She ran to him, and I watched the old man's face transform as he turned. Relief, love, gratitude—all of it written in the lines around his eyes.

“Oh, my baby,” Rafin laughed. They embraced, and I felt like an intruder on something sacred. This is what I protected, I reminded myself. These moments. These connections. Even if I couldn't fully participate in them.

"Alexander!" Rafin called, waving me over. "You brought her back safe! Thank you, thank you!"

"She brought herself back," I corrected, joining them. "I just provided transportation."

"Modest, too." He gripped my shoulder, and I saw tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. "Thank you. For everything."

This relieved me. Deep down in my chest, there was a fear. A deep seed. That when I’d return, I’d find Rafin dead. I thought of Prince Valerius. I feared that he’d returned to Scorpion’s Kiss and ordered a kill on Rafin’s head. I’m so glad that didn’t happen. I didn’t know how I’d show my face to Lailah if that had happened.

The teleportation must have taken him to the Erebian Royal Capital, then. I thought of the revenge surely brewing in royal halls. Of the United Church mobilizing, of the wars my existence might spark. Rafin didn't need to know how complicated his daughter's life was about to become.

"You're welcome," I said simply.

Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that this peace was borrowed time. Rafin’s life was spared, but in exchange, it meant the Prince must have already notified the Emperor about me. That was infinitely worse. Somewhere, holy knights sharpened blessed blades.

I wasn’t scared. The Heavenly Demon had returned to full strength. The world would tremble at what came next.

**

**

**

The Veiled Man Note: I wanted to kill Rafin, the decision was pretty final since the day Iska and Lailah left. Changed my mind a day or two ago since his death would leave Lailah a bit too alone, especially after she found out about Iskandaar’s character.