Veil of Aether

Auserre felt like she was in a tight bind. The name she had spoken to her master wasn’t just any name—it was one of the most taboo in their universe. And for her, in particular, it carried far more weight than she ever wanted to admit.

Mr. Sanguine.

As the name implied, he was tied to the dominion of Blood Force. His lineage—the Vel Clan—wasn’t some minor family. They were a powerhouse, a faction whose influence spread across multiple Ascended Realm galaxies, their own clan galaxy ranked among the rare few that had ascended into the Divine Realm itself. In their universe, they weren’t merely respected—they were feared, revered, untouchable.

Back in her reckless years—well, less reckless than she was now—Auserre had lived for challenges. She sought out powerhouses with a hunger bordering on obsession, never content to remain in the shadow of any name. That hunger eventually brought her to the very doorstep of the Vel Clan.

It was a mistake she never forgot.

The Vel Clan’s philosophy was unlike any other. To them, blood was not just a bodily fluid. It was sacred. It was the very foundation of life, the conduit of vitality, the proof of existence. They revered it above all else. Every drop carried meaning. Every spill of it demanded respect.

Their belief ran deep enough to shape their culture. Even in combat, where bloodshed was inevitable, they viewed its loss as a sacred offering. The defeated were not discarded like trash. Their blood was collected with ritual care, their corpses preserved with reverence. They even crafted a clan art devoted entirely to that practice—the Crimson Reclamation, an art designed to ensure that no blood was ever wasted, that the essence of life never vanished aimlessly into the soil.

In their eyes, desecrating blood was heresy.

And Auserre… she had not cared.

Why should she? She wasn’t one of them. Their rules were theirs, not hers. She didn’t bow to doctrine. She didn’t bind herself with another clan’s obsession. So when she walked into their halls and challenged their members at the Ascended Realm, she gave no thought to their sacred rites. She spilled blood. She mocked their reverence. She left it to stain the stone floors, steaming under the weight of her power.

And in doing so…

She earned the ire of a clan that never forgave.

She ran through their main realm—the Vel Clan’s ancestral ground—and challenged everyone in her path.

At first, her sudden appearance was more confusing than enraging to the clan elders. To them, she looked like nothing more than a hot-headed intruder, some crazed upstart demanding a fight she couldn’t possibly comprehend. But Auserre had made her intentions clear from the beginning: she wasn’t leaving without a battle.

And she got what she wanted.

Their realm was breathtaking, in its own macabre way—glorious rivers and pristine lakes of ruby-red blood, flowing like liquid jewels across the land. To the Vel Clan, these rivers weren’t just decoration. They were sacred. A lifeline. Their pride and identity, revered above all else. Blood to them wasn’t merely a substance—it was sanctity incarnate.

And then came Auserre.

In her reckless obsession, she did what a scant few had ever managed. She tapped into the rivers themselves—into the blood that fueled their sacred grounds—and bent it to her will as though it were nothing but water.

For those watching, the sight was unthinkable.

Controlling blood wasn’t like manipulating water. To wield it with Water Force, a cultivator had to suppress the overwhelming aspects of vitality, iron, and essence that gave blood its unique identity, bending them forcefully beneath their will. It was said to be almost impossible. Entire sects of Water Force cultivators had failed to master it after eons of research.

And yet Auserre, a mere Ascended realm challenger, made it look effortless.

The clan was left stunned, but awe quickly gave way to outrage when she ran rampant. Rivers of blood soaked the land under her command, entire lakes churned into violent torrents at her whim. Her reckless fighting drew in contaminates into the sacred waters, corrupting their revered rivers with every strike, every ripple.

Still unsatisfied, she pushed deeper. Ascended realm geniuses rose to stop her, and though they fought valiantly, she carved through them one by one. She was bloodied. She was challenged. But she kept going. The Vel Clan gave her their best—and she demanded more.

Her rampage only ended when lower-level Divine Realm cultivators stepped forward. Against them, she finally met her limit. The battle shook the ground, splitting sacred rivers into fractured streams, the once-pristine blood now sullied and diluted by her recklessness. She was defeated, exhausted, barely standing.

But she was smiling.

She had gotten what she wanted. And when she voiced her satisfaction, believing the matter settled, the Vel Clan finally snapped.

The rivers themselves were no longer pure. Contaminants swam through every stream. To Auserre, it meant little. But to them—it was sacrilege.

The outrage was immediate. The clan wasn’t just angered—they wanted her dead.

It took Oceanna stepping in personally to stop them.

Even then, the fury didn’t fade.

Auserre could still remember their faces—their eyes burning red with a fury that promised vengeance, their whispers seething with curses, the weight of a thousand blades pointed silently at her back.

Mr. Sanguine himself had not been there at first. But when he arrived, the tension in the realm shifted. His presence alone was suffocating—like a storm of blood waiting to drown her.

A tall figure, with ruby-red hair, he carried himself with a calmness that was more terrifying than any roar. Auserre had thought she might be killed then and there. But as his gaze swept past her and landed on Oceanna, he knew the truth as clearly as the rest of his clan.

Sanguine had been truly furious.

But when he stood across from Oceanna—her onyx-black hair fading into marble-white ends, her presence radiating the quiet authority of an Ardent—he had known better. Even with his lands defiled, even with his clan’s sacred rivers corrupted, he couldn’t provoke such a being.

He had been forced to let Auserre go free.

Yet he hadn’t done so without making his stance unmistakably clear. She would never again be welcome on Vel Clan territory. Should she so much as take another step onto their lands, he would be forced to act—even if it meant drawing his blade against Oceanna herself.

It had been a line drawn in blood.

And Auserre had crossed it recklessly, unknowingly shattering bridges she could never rebuild.

For her part, Oceanna had not been pleased in the slightest. She wasn’t afraid of Divine Realm beings—she had no need to be. But appearances mattered. To have a student so uncontrollable, so reckless, who could bring ruin to an entire Divine Realm galaxy with nothing more than her stubborn desire for battle… it was a stain on her name.

She had wondered then, and still wondered now, just how far Auserre would go before she found trouble she could not claw her way out of.

Now, years later, even speaking his name—Sanguine—in Oceanna’s presence felt like resting her throat against the blade of a guillotine.

And the way her master’s expression shifted at the mention was proof enough of how dangerous that was.

The air had thickened instantly, pressure coiling through the room like a storm about to break.

Auserre had known better. She had always known better. And yet the name had slipped from her lips, as if pulled there by desperation.

For a moment, she swore the temperature in the chamber dropped.

“…Choose your next words carefully, Aquarius,” Oceanna said softly. Too softly. The kind of softness that promised devastation if defied.

The weight of her presence alone was enough to make the stone underfoot groan.

And then—

“Help… I can’t… breathe…”

Both women’s gazes snapped toward the boy sprawled on the floor.

Kei Y was flattened against the stone, trembling, his chest barely rising as the sheer pressure bore down on him. His half-finished cloak lay discarded at his side, forgotten as his fingers clawed weakly at the ground.

This text was taken from NovelFire. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Oh—my bad, young one.” Oceanna’s voice shifted in an instant, her smile softening as she flicked her wrist. The suffocating pressure vanished like it had never existed.

Kei gasped, sucking in air like a drowning man breaking the surface. He rolled onto his back, clutching his chest, wide-eyed and pale.

“Grandmaster…” he wheezed, eyes shimmering with genuine terror. “You’re scary…”

His voice cracked halfway through, but the honesty was undeniable.

“Mm. You’re lucky you’re cute,” Oceanna teased, a playful glint in her eye despite the suffocating silence she’d left behind.

But the warning hung there still, sharp and unspoken, like the guillotine’s blade waiting to fall.

“Actually, Master… it’s for him,” Auserre said, voice tight with nerves.

Oceanna’s eyes narrowed. “For what reason would he need to associate with Sanguine?”

“Uh… I really can’t tell you,” Auserre admitted, her throat suddenly dry. “But just know… Sanguine has the capability to make him even stronger than I was at the Mortal Realm Recruit stage. With his help, I can guarantee he’d have the chance to grow stronger than me. Stronger than you, even.”

That last claim made Oceanna’s brows twitch upward, her curiosity sharpened. But before she could cut in, Auserre forced the rest out.

“…And it would involve… getting a drop of his blood.”

The weight in the air thickened again instantly. Oceanna’s gaze hardened, arms folding across her chest like steel doors slamming shut.

“Aussie.” Her tone was low. Cold. The kind that left no room for lies. “I know you’re no longer insane, so before I act, I’m going to assume you have a good reason for wanting me to meet with him again. Especially with such a heavy—near impossible—request.”

Auserre’s body trembled despite herself. “Master… I… I really can’t say.”

“Why?” Oceanna pressed, her eyes narrowing further. “I already know he’s a God Spark. What greater secret can he have than that?”

But the effect of her words wasn’t reassurance. If anything, Auserre looked even more shaken. Nervous. Reckless. Like a cornered animal.

That was all Oceanna needed to see.

“…There’s a far greater and more serious secret he has, isn’t there?” Oceanna asked quietly. Her voice had lost its bite, but the intensity behind her stare was suffocating.

“Master… it’s best if I don’t say…” Auserre’s voice broke, trembling.

“Tell her,” Kei Y said suddenly, not even looking up as he tied off the last stitch on his sleeveless tunic. He started measuring fabric for his hooded cloak, his tone so casual it felt almost disrespectful in the heavy silence. “I don’t care, to be honest.”

Both women froze, their eyes locking on him.

“And besides…” Kei added, lips quirking faintly as if this was nothing more than small talk. “…I really like Grandmaster. She’s nice to me. She gave me candy.”

Auserre’s jaw went slack. Candy? He’s about to drop the deadliest secret in existence, and he leads with candy?

Oceanna’s gaze slid to him slowly, studying his profile like it was a puzzle piece she didn’t know where to fit. “...Is there something I should know about him?” she asked.

Auserre still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Oceanna tilted her head slightly, her stare intensifying. “Or is it something best no one knows about him? Even you?”

............

“Grandmaster, do you have any more candy?” Kei Y asked innocently, like the suffocating tension about his secrets didn’t even exist.

Oceanna blinked. Then her stern composure cracked like thin glass.

In the next second, she was kneeling in front of him, pulling out a small pouch. “Anything for you, sweetie,” she cooed, practically glowing as she pressed a candy into his hand. “Want me to beat up an old, grumpy vampire for you? I’ll happily do it.” She rubbed his head fondly as Kei unwrapped the candy with all the focus of a child on Christmas morning.

Kei Y munched happily, unbothered, while Auserre stood off to the side, her lips pursed so tightly it looked like she’d bitten a lemon. “Master, you spoil them too much…” she muttered, glaring daggers at the candy. “How come you never doted on me like that?”

“Mm. Because they're cuter,” Oceanna said breezily, ignoring the jealousy in her student’s eyes.

“…I’m cute,” Auserre mumbled bitterly under her breath.

Meanwhile, Kei Y, halfway through his candy, tilted his head curiously. “Wait… there’s vampires?” His eyes widened in genuine wonder. “Like, actual vampires? Do they sparkle in the sun or—”

As Kei munched happily, the air shifted once more—not with Oceanna’s suffocating pressure this time, but with the deafening roar of a crowd.

CLANG!

The scene cut sharply to the tournament arena, where steel clashed against flame.

The arena rang as steel met steel.

Inpu’s sword caught his opponent’s flaming spear, the force of the clash sending him skidding back across the polished stone floor. His feet dug shallow grooves into the ground before he came to a stop, chest heaving as his sword arm trembled. His breath came in sharp, heavy bursts—his aether reserves were running dangerously low.

Across from him, his opponent—one of China’s recruits—twirled his spear with a confident flourish, the weapon still blazing with fiery heat. The boy smirked.

“Heh. Honestly, we were starting to get worried. With how terrifying all those masked recruits from Amunar looked, we figured each of you would be monsters. But compared to the others, you’re… not as impressive.”

Inpu chuckled, though the sound was strained. He adjusted his grip, shifting back into stance despite the burn in his lungs. “That’s fine,” he admitted lightly. “Among a group, someone’s always bound to be the weakest. Just so happens, it’s me.”

His smile didn’t falter, even as sweat slid down the side of his face. “But honestly? I’m okay with that. The others… they’re truly talented beyond common sense. Being able to fight alongside them at all—that’s reassuring enough for me.”

The words weren’t self-deprecation. There was no bitterness in them. Just calm acceptance. He wasn’t Kei Y, carving through Greeks like they were practice dummies. He wasn’t Sanu or Kei M, each of whom had already crushed their five matches with calm efficiency. And he wasn’t Mia, who had blazed through four victories and stood ready for her last with quiet, frightening composure.

He was Inpu. And if his role was to struggle while the others soared, then so be it.

Because even a scale’s lighter side had its purpose.

Around the arena, whispers spread through the crowd.

“Those masked recruits… they’re Pharaoh’s trump cards, aren’t they?”

“They have to be. Their earlier recruits weren’t even that impressive—most of them are already gone.”

“Look at the difference. It’s like night and day.”

All eyes turned back to the Amunar contingent. Kei Y, Mia, Sanu, Kei M. Every one of them cloaked in mystery, every one of them reshaping the expectations of the tournament.

And standing there in the arena, sword arm shaking but spirit unbroken, Inpu smiled faintly to himself.

With a sharp wave of his blade, Inpu carved runic strokes through the ground, his sword acting as a force quill. The glowing symbols sank into the platform beneath his feet, embedding themselves into the stone.

A low rumble followed. The arena floor heeded his call as slabs of earth rose up around him, forming a jagged barrier. He sucked in a shaky breath, buying precious seconds for his aether to replenish.

On the other side, Nezha spun his flaming spear in a blur, heat rippling through the air. Sparks cascaded off the weapon like falling stars. With a powerful swing, he hurled arcs of fire forward.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Explosions erupted as flaming orbs slammed into the earthen wall, each impact cracking the barrier further, chunks of stone raining down.

Inpu winced at the pressure. He didn’t have much time.

Nezha surged forward, spear blazing. But just as his foot struck the ground, something shifted. The tile beneath him shimmered faintly, a subtle ripple coursing through it.

His balance faltered. Only for a breath. But it was enough.

Inpu burst from behind the crumbling wall, sword glowing with emerald-gold light.

[Equilibrium Sever]

Inpu tilted the scales of fortune mid-strike, weighting luck against his opponent. For each flaw in their stance, balance, or defense, his blade draws power, turning a minor slip into a decisive opening.

His blade sang as it carved through the air, the scales of fate momentarily tipping in his favor.

Nezha’s eyes widened as this was a skill Inpu have used in his other matches to tilt the scales in his favor—but he didn’t panic. Instead, he released his spear, palms slamming into the ground.

FWOOOSH!

A lotus of flames burst open beneath him, petals unfurling in radiant arcs. The fiery bloom enveloped him, forming a blazing shield. Each petal shimmered like molten steel, interlocking to block Inpu’s descending strike.

Steel and flame met with a deafening clash, sparks and embers raining across the arena.

Safely encased within the blazing lotus, Nezha didn’t waste a second. He thrust his palm outward, and a roaring pillar of fire erupted beneath Inpu’s feet.

“Shit—!” Inpu leapt back just in time, heat licking at his boots as the stone where he had stood blackened instantly.

Nezha pressed the assault, more pillars of flame bursting across the arena in a punishing rhythm. Inpu was forced to weave and twist between them, his body burning with exhaustion, each dodge shaving precious scraps off his dwindling stamina.

“You’re quite good, aren’t you?” Nezha said between heavy breaths, sweat dripping from his brow. His control wavered, but his grin held steady.

“I’ve trained among the best I’ve ever seen,” Inpu shot back with a laugh, sweat rolling down beneath his mask. “Trust me, this is nothing.”

His sword spun defensively, his movements still sharp despite his labored breathing.

“Seems like neither of us can keep this up much longer, huh?” Inpu added, his tone light even as his chest heaved.

“You read my mind,” Nezha replied. His form blurred suddenly—faster than Inpu expected.

Before Inpu could react, the bottom of Nezha’s spear slammed into his stomach with crushing force. A strange rune ignited against his abdomen, glowing with a mystic script unfamiliar to him.

Inpu’s eyes widened as his body froze. He couldn’t move—couldn’t even twitch a finger.

Daoist runes? he realized instantly. Unlike the runes he used, these weren’t commands to bend the world—they enforced the world’s will as if it were their own. The difference was subtle but terrifying.

Above him, Nezha’s figure soared high into the air. His spear burned brighter than ever, flames whipping violently as he cocked his arm back, grinning despite the strain.

“This was a great fight!” he shouted as he hurled the blazing weapon downward.

Inpu tilted his head back to meet the incoming strike. The mask couldn’t hide his grin.

“It really was.”

And then—he did something insane.

He tipped the scales.

[Balance Reversal]

Inpu willingly shifted all of his good fortune away, replacing it with misfortune. At the same time, he drew Nezha’s bad fortune onto himself, giving his opponent every ounce of the good fortune he had cast aside.

The exchange was invisible —but its effects were immediate.

The ground beneath Inpu suddenly groaned. With no warning, the stone caved inward as if the arena itself betrayed him. His locked body staggered backward, spraining his ankle, slipping out of the rune’s range just as the descending spear slammed into the spot where he had stood.

BOOM!

The impact split the arena floor, fire surging outward in a violent shockwave. But Inpu remained just outside its heart, chest heaving, the edge of his sword glowing faintly with Scale Force’s residual shimmer.

Nezha landed heavily, staring at him with wide eyes. “What… how…?”

Inpu smiled beneath the mask. “Guess the world just likes me unlucky.”

The crowd erupted.

With his sword drawn before him, Inpu shifted into a new mode of fighting—one so reckless it bordered on suicidal.

He had tipped the scales completely.

Every ounce of fortune had left him. The scales now bore only misfortune, pressing down on his body like the weight of a collapsing world.

With [Balance Reversal], one slip would mean death. A loose stone, a shallow breath at the wrong moment, the faintest quiver in his stance—any of it could be the end. The arena itself seemed eager to betray him, every step daring him to fall.

And yet, even knowing that the world had turned against him, Inpu smiled like a jackal scenting blood.

Nezha landed lightly, grabbing his spear still humming with fire. He blinked at the sight before him—a man standing with zero aether, his body moments from collapse, yet still smiling like he’d already won.

A laugh slipped from Nezha, incredulous and almost admiring. “So are all of you masked people insane?” he asked, though his tone said he already knew the answer.

Inpu’s grin widened, with his sprained ankle. “Pretty much.”