Rivers of the Night

Theron frowned. It felt like something was passing through his heart just now, but he couldn't sense exactly what it was. It was like it wasn't real at all.

But somehow, it felt very real.

Theron's eyes narrowed, but it didn't stop him from placing the black dagger in its sheath and hanging it from his waist. He threw Ironvale's broken sword to the side without a care. It was useless to him now, so there was no need to keep it.

He felt his feet sink a bit, but with a few hops and adjustments, he was used to it. As heavy as the dagger was, it was still lighter than the broken inner armor had been. So while it would take some adjustment, Theron didn't believe it would take much.

What he was sure of was that this dagger was at least on the same level as his father's short sword now.

After his evolution to Arcane Resonance, his father's short sword had evolved along with him. This blade should also be an Arcane Resonance Blade.

It was just that while Theron's father's sword was an Arcane Grade blade of the Silver Resonance, this dagger was an Arcane Grade blade above the Gold Resonance. It was at least one realm above Gold Mancy, if not two.

As such, right now, this dagger was far stronger than his short sword despite the two being of equivalent quality.

If Theron wanted to get his short sword to keep up, he would need to break through two more realms. At that point, his father's short sword would upgrade accordingly.

Still, this dagger was incredibly valuable to him right now.

No matter how crafty his battle style and clever his tactics, it wouldn't matter if he couldn't break skin to reap lives. This dagger… would make that problem far less of one.

That said…

'This skeleton is a misdirection. A clever one, but a misdirection nonetheless.'

There was a seam beneath the skeleton's body, one that hid what looked like an inconspicuous hidden passage.

Most who entered here would likely be enamored by these things and never notice it. But Theron had actually noticed it the moment he walked in. In fact, he almost noticed it before he noticed the corpse.

If not for the fact the skeleton had levied that aura at him, with Theron's senses, he would have definitely scanned the room long before he cared about a skeleton.

His ability to read for threats and assess them was second to none.

But that chill at the back of his neck…

Theron's eyes narrowed before he suddenly kicked out.

His foot slammed against the chest of the skeleton. With a swift motion of his hands, he caught the two gems and the Core that flew toward him as a result.

With a moment that was equally as fluid, he stored them into his new spatial ring, taking them onto his finger and waiting.

But nothing happened.

Theron's eyes narrowed.

He believed his own intuition. There was definitely something going on here.

SHIIIING.

With a swift motion, he pulled out his father's short sword and swung down.

Chi.

The seam on the bottom of the shack split in two, cracking and then opening up to reveal howling wind below.

SHIING. SHIING. SHIING.

Theron hurriedly tilted his head to the side, a deathly knife aura nearly cutting his head off.

With a slow hand, Theron touched his cheek, feeling the warm liquid that pooled down his fingers with a serious expression.

No one had attacked him just now. That felt like… a natural phenomenon. What was this?

Why would a Dark Mancer be sitting on top of such a thing?

"Junior. You don't have the slightest modicum of respect. To take the things of the dead without a hint of gratitude… a brat like you doesn't deserve to live. Die."

The voice didn't seem angry. In fact, it seemed quite apathetic, uncaring. It was almost as though it had only spoken to let Theron know why he had died but nothing else.

Theron, though, didn't look toward the corpse even though the voice had spoken as though it came from there.

Respect? Did the skeleton expect him to kowtow to it? Be thankful for the things it had left behind?

Theron didn't care much for this world at all. He didn't need to know the life of this dead man to know that he had likely killed his fair share of people in the world. Just the blade aura, the bloodthirsty light it radiated, was enough to prove that.

And Theron was supposed to thank him?

A murderer had been lucky enough to live to the end of his pitiful life. Now he expected to be thanked for leaving behind things he couldn't even use?

What a fucking joke.

Theron tapped a foot and dodged the next blade aura that came as though he could sense where it was coming from ahead of time.

'As expected.'

The cadence, the aura, the frequency, the Law hidden in these blade auras was the exact same as the currents above their head.

This was a dead man, and he had been dead for a very long time. Maybe when he was among the living, he could kill Theron with a single glance, a breath—not even a hint of effort.

But now?

Theron had spent days studying those patterns just to get here. And then he learned to use them to accelerate his journey here.

By now?

It was about time he learned how to apply them to his blade.

Chi.

Theron sheathed his father's sword with a single motion and then pulled out his new dagger.

He tapped a foot, but this time he accelerated forward.

"The dead should stay dead," Theron said coldly, his body rushing into the tunnel below. "It's not your place to tell me what I should and shouldn't do."

Theron's indifferent voice lingered in the skies beneath the fury of the unknown cultivator.