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Sometimes he returned only a tenth of the original structure. Other times, he sent back only a few strokes.
Yet those simplified fragments carried more force, more efficiency, and more effect than Kei Y’s entire formation ever had.
That part, Kei Y could accept. Aterix was stronger. His cultivation was higher. He had the experience to make it look easy.
But what always unsettled Kei Y was something else.
Aterix could simplify Wind runes so far that Kei Y couldn’t take control of the wind anymore.
It wasn’t just that Aterix overpowered him.
It was that the wind stopped responding to Kei Y the way it normally did, like Kei Y was trying to wrestle control over something that no longer even counted as “his” wind.
If it were just a difference in power, Kei Y could have swallowed it.
Aterix had fought Auserre multiple times. Someone like that wasn’t supposed to be challenged by a kid like him.
But the sensation Kei Y felt when he tried to steal control…
It didn’t feel like losing.
It felt like he was reaching for something that was never his to begin with.
And that feeling dragged his mind back to a place he never liked remembering.
That small room.
It wasn’t the room itself.
It was the people.
In the few moments he saw them during those ten years, they looked normal. They moved normal. They spoke normal. If you passed them on the street, you wouldn’t think twice.
That was what made it worse.
They were too plain. Too natural.
Kei Y had a photographic memory. Even now, he could remember their posture, their pace, the way they carried themselves like nothing in the world could ever rush them.
And now that his observation had sharpened to the point he could read levels, names, even titles if he pushed his Will hard enough…
he could remember the feeling around them too.
It couldn’t be stressed enough how impossible that place was.
The place Kei Y had been hidden wasn’t known to anyone. No records. No trace. Nothing. Even he himself couldn’t find a single mention of it, no matter how far he dug.
He’d gone as far as googling it in the most blunt way possible, typing exactly what he remembered into the search bar like the internet was going to hand him an answer.
“place buried deep in the earth, on small island that really narrow and no one knows about, a small distance from Tuvalu”
And still, nothing.
Ignoring the fact he literally typed “no one knows about” like Google was going to respond with Oh yeah, that place nobody knows about? Here you go.
Nothing.
No facility.
No underground site.
No mention of anything like it existing.
Kei Y didn’t even know how he got out.
Which meant the only thing he had left to rely on was his memory.
And his memory told him one thing clearly.
Those people had been far too ordinary in the way they carried themselves.
It felt wrong.
And as Izanami stared up at Kei Y now, she was feeling a smaller version of that same wrongness.
The air around Kei Y seemed normal. Calm. Like there was nothing special happening at all.
But the moment anything entered his range, Wind Force reacted instantly.
And the wind answered without the air around him ever needing to stir.
That was the part that didn’t make sense.
That was the part Kei Y was testing.
But none of that mattered right now.
Izanami’s mirror flared as she poured Will and Charisma into it. This time, she didn’t cast illusions into the surroundings to trick him.
She cast it directly onto Kei Y.
She met resistance at first, the illusion cracking against his focus.
But then she saw it.
That bored look on Kei Y’s face finally broke.
His eyes sharpened, focus snapping into place like he’d stopped drifting and remembered he was in a fight.
And in that opening, Izanami’s illusion latched on.
…Got you.
“Was he doing that unconsciously?” Izanami wondered.
And yes.
He was.
Kei Y’s Calligrapher class had been doing most of the work for him.
Macro.
While Kei Y prepared something bigger, his Gale Fang Spark had been automatically producing wind blades in a steady rhythm.
Wukong saw it too, and his annoyance flared immediately.
“Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” he snapped, deflecting another blade with a harsh swing.
Izanami ignored him, eyes locked on Kei Y’s expression.
“Is it just me,” she muttered, “or did it look like he just woke up?”
Wukong clicked his tongue, but even he couldn’t deny it.
For a moment, Kei Y had looked… absent.
Like he wasn’t even fully present in the fight.
And now he was.
And whatever he’d been preparing while on autopilot…
was finally almost ready.
Having realized he was caught in an illusion, Kei Y fought back immediately, pushing his Will outward to resist it.
But it was far more difficult than he expected.
Kei Y’s expression tightened.
Izanami felt his resistance spike and narrowed her eyes. She tapped into the second tomoe to reinforce the illusion, feeding it more pressure, trying to lock him in place.
For a moment, it worked.
Then she felt it.
She was losing.
Kei Y’s Will pushed back like a blade, forcing cracks through her control. The illusion began to splinter, breaking apart faster than she could reinforce it.
But it was enough.
The instant Kei Y shattered through the illusion, Wukong was already there.
His staff smashed into Kei Y’s side with a brutal thud, launching him hard across the arena. Kei Y bounced once, then twice, skidding and rolling as the force rattled through his bones.
Wukong didn’t hesitate.
He surged forward, chasing him down, ready to keep striking before Kei Y could regain his footing.
But Kei Y wasn’t crashing into bare ground.
He was landing on the bluish petal remnants of his earlier Lethal Bloom attacks.
As Kei Y’s back hit them, the petals flared.
His eyes narrowed in irritation.
“...Annoying.”
He lifted a hand slightly, voice flat as he spoke the command.
“[High Tide – Serenity Pulse].”
The petals answered instantly.
A wave of Tideborne Eclipse pulsed outward from beneath him, washing through his body and restoring his health more quickly than it was depleting.
Wukong was already mid-swing.
His staff hardened, the stone density spiking as he brought it down like a hammer.
It slammed into Kei Y’s midsection with crushing weight.
Kei Y’s mind was still caught on the illusion he’d just torn through.
It wasn’t the pain that bothered him.
It was the feeling.
“...That was close,” he thought, breathing out slowly.
Kei Y’s mind was still stuck on the illusion he’d torn apart.
Wukong didn’t give him time to breathe.
Kei Y twisted on instinct and swept low.
Wukong’s stance barely shifted, but it was enough.
Kei Y vaulted in.
They collided. Stone fur scraped wool. Wind snapped. Frost hissed.
Wukong’s staff crashed down.
Kei Y slipped inside, horns clipping the strike as he countered with a glacial palm.
Wukong took it and kept moving.
Then the staff slammed into Kei Y’s side again.
Kei Y bounced, skidded, caught himself.
And without thinking…
He swept low again.
Weight shift.
Vault in.
Collision.
Kei Y’s chest tightened.
…Wait.
It happened again.
Same sweep. Same vault. Same clash.
Then the staff cracked across Kei Y’s side.
His body flew.
He bounced once, skidded, caught himself.
And his leg moved again.
Sweep.
Vault.
Clash.
Kei Y’s eyes sharpened.
Kei Y wanted to curse.
He wanted to scorn the situation he’d been dragged into.
But instead, he felt something else.
Curiosity.
Because if he was going to get trapped in a loop, then this was the best place possible to test an idea.
Aterix’s lesson kept resurfacing.
Large runes were noisy.
Complexity wasn’t power.
Complexity was just a loud way to ask the world to listen.
And Kei Y had seen the opposite of that before.
Back then.
Those people.
They were plain.
They moved like normal humans, spoke like normal humans, looked like normal humans.
But everything about them felt… settled.
Like the world had already decided to behave around them before they even asked.
Kei Y didn’t have a name for that feeling.
But the wind did.
Because the more he thought about it, the more his wind stopped acting like “techniques” and started acting like wind again.
He’d spent his whole time in the Expanse watching Minor Wind Force users shape the same element into different fighting styles.
Zephyr Wind was sharper.
Stormwind was heavier.
Pulsewind was rhythm and disruption.
Yet all of it still pointed back to the same thing.
Wind.
So why did it need to be complicated?
Why did a Major Force need endless layers?
Kei Y’s eyes sharpened.
If wind could return to a natural state like that…
Then why not fire?
Why not water?
Why not earth, lightning, and every other Major Force?
In fact… why was there any distinction in Force to begin with?
Wouldn’t that mean—
For some reason, that line of thinking felt familiar.
If Force was just the way aether was used then…
“Wait.”
Kei Y’s eyes narrowed.
“Hachi…”
As if static coursed through his skull, the thought snapped apart mid-formation. It vanished before he could grab it, leaving only a dull, empty space where an answer should have been.
Kei Y blinked once.
Then twice.
And just like that, he continued with his earlier thoughts as if nothing had happened.
Above it all, the [He Who Denies Fate] simmered with annoyance…
…but it still allowed it.
……
And if that was true…
Why not martial arts?
Martial arts had endless styles.
Endless ways to punch, to kick, to move.
Endless “correct forms.”
But Kei Y had fought Silvie enough times to know something simple.
Most styles weren’t trying to do something different.
They were trying to reach the same outcome, using different routes.
So what if the route didn’t matter?
What if all the extra movement was noise?
What if the cleanest martial arts was .......
Kei Y’s eyes widened.
His mind slipped into an entirely different space, a beautiful ethereal green that felt endless.
And in that space, his Intelligence stat unlocked to its true ability.
Wind Force opened before him.
Not just the ones he knew.
More.
Far more.
Minor Wind alignments he’d never practiced.
Minor Wind variations he’d never even heard of.
Different expressions of wind, all carrying their own rhythm and structure.
And with his earlier thoughts on simplicity still echoing through him, the complexity began collapsing.
Patterns compressed.
Layers peeled away.
His mind raced inside that space.
In fact, it raced far too quickly.
The ethereal green space twisted, shifting into a fiery red.
Fiery red bled into glacial white.
Glacial white cracked into lightning blue.
Kei Y could only stare.
He was watching a theory he’d only just begun to form unfold in real time, even though he still couldn’t properly comprehend it. It felt like he’d reached the edge of something enormous, like he was standing right in front of a door no one at his level was supposed to even know existed.
A door that, if opened, would place him among the highest cultivators in existence.
Forget being a God Spark.
This path felt better.
More exciting.
Kei Y genuinely looked forward to what came next.
Then his thoughts were abruptly cut off.
Like someone reached into his mind and snapped the thread in half.
A voice rang out inside his head, amused and casual.
“Hey, young one… you’re rushing a bit too far, hehe. Before you try going down this path, make sure your cultivation is a bit more advanced than the Mortal Realm.”
Kei Y froze.
The colors stuttered.
The space began to collapse.
“I’ll seal these thoughts away for you,” the voice continued lightly, almost entertained, “so you can come back to them when you’re ready.”
The [He Who Denies Fate] title, as if annoyed that its bearer’s progress had been interrupted, immediately reacted.
It absorbed everything Kei Y had just witnessed.
Every insight.
Every shift in that strange space.
Every thread of comprehension that had almost formed into something real.
And it stored it away inside itself, sealed and preserved for the moment Kei Y would finally be ready to handle it.
At the same time, the title seemed to scoff at the being who had interfered, radiating pure contempt.
If the title could give him the finger…
It would.
Watching the fight reach its current state, the Jade Emperor couldn’t help but comment as he stared down at the newly formed third tomoe, pulsing with bright, rhythmic force.
“I have to admit,” he said slowly, almost impressed, “your Crown Princess really is talented. Creating a self-named technique at her age…”
He observed.
“And I, for one, am very glad my cultivation far surpasses hers. Otherwise, I might’ve been the victim of it.”
Izanagi’s chest swelled with pride, though his expression still carried a trace of disbelief. Even now, it was hard to accept what he was seeing.
To force Izanami to reveal her self-named technique…
And still resist it.
“Well, luckily,” Izanagi said, voice turning sharp with pride, “she’s not the only genius Japan has who has created a self-named technique.”
The Jade Emperor glanced at him, then laughed.
“It really speaks volumes,” he said, amused, “that she’s using that person’s self-named technique just to spite him.”
He leaned back, grin widening.
“Just to prove she’s the greater genius.”
Below them, Izanami clasped her hands together. The Sacred Jewel trembled above her head, its light flickering like it was close to dying out.
She was running on fumes.
On nothing but pride, willpower, and the last fragments of her aether.
Still, she didn’t hesitate.
She activated her final skill.
The three tomoe spun faster.
Faster.
Until the air itself began to distort. The tail ends of the tomoe stretched outward, lengthening like blades, then began to merge into one another.
As her skill finished taking form—
“Huh?”
Kei Y barely twisted out of the way of Wukong’s staff, the strike grazing past his cheek by a hair. For a split second, it felt like he’d snapped awake mid-motion.
Like someone had pulled him out of a dream.
His eyes narrowed, pulse skipping.
…Why does it feel like I’m missing something?
His memory felt scuffed… incomplete. Like parts of the last few seconds had been rubbed away, leaving only the aftermath.
That brief confusion made his footing sloppy.
Wukong’s next strike came in fast.
Kei Y reacted late.
The staff missed by inches.
And Wukong froze.
His brows furrowed, stone fur tightening along his arms as he stared at Kei Y with suspicion.
“…Something’s off.”
Kei Y’s gaze sharpened at the exact same time.
The two of them took a single breath.
Then another.
And realization hit them together.
An illusion-based loop.
And funnily enough…
Kei Y’s recent enlightenment, and the fact it had been sealed away, had left his mind in a strange state. His thoughts were half-disconnected from the rhythm Izanami was trying to enforce.
The loop couldn’t fully grip him anymore.
And the moment Kei Y’s rhythm broke free—
Wukong’s followed.
Like one crack in glass spreading outward.
The loop snapped.
The world felt real again.
Izanami’s eye twitched.
Seeing the two of them break out of her self-named technique so quickly, irritation flared across her face.
“Already…?” she hissed through clenched teeth, voice strained but loud enough for both of them to hear.
Her gaze locked onto them, eyes bloodshot red from the pressure she’d forced through herself.
“I’m not ready yet.”
Kei Y’s head turned first.
Wukong’s followed right after.
And Wukong’s eyes widened.
Because with Izanami inside, something was forming.
An enormous ethereal projection of Izanami, towering, its presence so heavy it made the air feel thick. It kept rising, rising, until its head pressed through the top of the tornado itself like the storm was nothing more than a curtain.
For the first time since the tornado formed—
The fighters outside faltered.
Specialists and Recruits alike paused mid-exchange, necks tilting upward in shock as the colossal figure loomed overhead.
Wukong felt it the moment that the challenge started to form.
His blood boiled.
A grin spread across his face, feral and excited, stone fur bristling as he rolled his shoulders.
“Finally.”
Kei Y didn’t share the sentiment.
“No the fuck you don’t.”
Izanami was nearly done. The ethereal projection tightened around her like armor, piece by piece, sealing into place with weight. Relief softened her expression since the loop failed.
“Let’s see how you handle this,” she said, eyes locked on Kei Y.
Above her, the three spiraling tomoes pulsed brighter, their presence bleeding into the projection as if they were about to become its core.
The last step was right there.
Then—
Izanami’s breath vanished.
Like the air had been ripped straight out of her lungs.
Her vision blurred instantly. Confusion slammed into her so hard her balance broke as she stumbled.
“…What the hell…?”
The projection stalled at its final formation, the tomoes flickering like a candle fighting to stay lit. Izanami stared forward, dazed.
Kei Y was already moving.
His Gale Fang was reattached, the canopy reforming in a smooth snap, the Spark returning to its parasol state as if nothing had happened.
And then, without warning—
Inside Izanami’s own ethereal projection, the wind changed.
A violent gust formed within it.
It detonated outward like a contained storm breaking its cage, blasting Izanami out of her own construct. Her body spun through the air, the armor unraveling behind her in fractured light.
Wukong’s eyes widened.
He hadn’t even seen Kei Y’s Spark shift.
He didn’t see the parasol turn into a Shima Enaga.
He barely registered Kei Y’s voice, low and sharp beneath the chaos.
“Shinma Edgecraft: Wings of Ruins.”
The bird Spark shone brightly, its wings flaring with razor wind-runes and crackling frost-thread edges. Kei Y dumped the remaining portion of his Pristine Aether into it without restraint.
The Shima Enaga dove.
Straight down.
Straight into Wukong.
A Shinma-shaped explosion detonated, as motes of light littered the ground.
And Wukong’s last coherent thought, staring at that descending light, was painfully honest.
…Amazing.
The System rang out.
[Khenu vs Izanami and Sun Wukong]
[Winner: Khenu]
Kei Y stared down at his defeated opponents asAspect Manifestation: Creatureborne Adaptation cancelled on its own.
His hybrid form unraveled, and he reverted back to his normal body the moment his aether finally ran dry.
His steps faltered.
For a second, he looked like he might collapse from pure exhaustion.
Then motes of light rushed into him.
The aether restored just enough that his legs steadied, and Kei Y managed to stand upright again, forcing his posture back into something composed.
“…That’s weird,” Kei Y muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. “Why does it feel like I’m suddenly forgetting something?”
Above him, theShima Enaga Spark drifted in a slow circle. The remaining petals from his earlier Lotus Bloom techniques rose with it, floating behind the bird like a silent, swirling halo.
Kei Y exhaled once.
“Whatever. Still have to keep going.”
The massive tornado began to dissolve, its violent walls of wind finally thinning until they collapsed into nothing but a fading breeze.
And the moment it cleared, the rest of the participants finally got a clear look at him.
Kei Y hovered calmly in the air.
AKaleidoscope field of rune strokes rotated beneath and around him, green runes flickering softly as they kept him afloat like a gentle current.
To everyone watching, it looked like he hadn’t even been pushed.
Elsewhere.
“Hehehe… that could’ve been some problem now, couldn’t it?”
The same voice that had interrupted Kei Y earlier laughed quietly.
The people around him didn’t look amused.
They were watching Kei Y from where they stood.
From the same place they once held him captive.
“Let’s just hope your disciples are advancing down their paths smoothly,” the voice continued, tone light. “Lest they fail their purpose.”
“Don’t worry, old man…” someone answered flatly.
Before he could say anything else, the dirty end of a mop smacked into his face.
“Don’t think because I’m the janitor here that I won’t beat you senseless,” the janitor snarled, gripping the mop like it was a weapon.
“That’s it, old man!”
The one who’d been hit immediately launched at him, and the two of them rolled across the floor in a messy brawl.
The others didn’t even react.
They kept talking like it was background noise.
“My own disciple,” one of them said calmly, “the one on the path of fire… despite still being in the Mortal Realm, just finished challenging the God Spark of Creation.”
A brief pause.
“Too bad that God Spark has the means to escape.”
Then, almost approvingly:
“But my disciple is showing acceptable progress.”
The janitor kicked the man off him, adjusted his grip on the mop, and went right back to cleaning like nothing happened.
He pushed the mop forward, dragging it down the corridor.
Then he stopped at a familiar door.
Kei Y’s old room.
The janitor stepped inside, staring at the empty space for a moment.
“Heh,” he muttered. “Let’s hope the others are ready… lest they disappoint that kid.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I managed to seal away his enlightenment… but that cheeky title stored it anyway.”
He scoffed.
“Forget going down one path.”
“When he’s ready, he’s going down the path of your disciples.”
“That’s unexpected,” another voice admitted. “If not for that title, he wouldn’t even have been a God Spark.”
They sounded almost irritated by it.
“That kind of connection to aether and force brought his progress up far quicker than anticipated.”
“And let alone being a God Spark,” another added, “the fact he ended up with a wind-based alignment was only because he prefers staying hidden.”
“He unconsciously chose Breeze Force for himself.”
“But this is good,” they continued. “The faster he progresses, the more likely he succeeds in what we hope for him.”