The old man waited beneath the dead tree, his wooden sword resting across his knees. Behind him, the endless sea of stars continued to shimmer, each reflection carrying unfamiliar faces and forgotten memories. Zarek stood several paces away, studying the man whose presence made even the Absolute Entity seem less incomprehensible. There was no spiritual pressure, no killing intent, and no visible cultivation. Yet Zarek's instincts warned him that a single careless movement could cost him his life.
"Why did you devour your first enemy?" the old man asked again.
Zarek's expression remained composed. "Because I was weak, and he was stronger than me."
"An explanation, not an answer."
"What difference does it make?"
"The difference between a man who understands his actions and one who merely remembers them."
The old man lifted his wooden sword and placed its tip against the mirror beneath his feet. A ripple spread outward, and the reflection of a young boy appeared on the surface. The boy wore torn clothes and knelt in the dirt while several older youths laughed around him. Zarek recognized the scene immediately. It was a memory from before he obtained the Primordial Devour System, a time when even the simplest cultivation task had seemed impossible.
His gaze hardened. "Why are you showing me this?"
"Because you have spent so long becoming stronger that you have forgotten to examine the person who first desired strength."
Zarek took a step forward. "I haven't forgotten anything."
"Then watch."
The reflection changed. The young Zarek struggled to rise after being struck down. His hands trembled, his clothes were stained with dust, and humiliation burned in his eyes. One of the youths kicked him back to the ground, then walked away laughing. The memory ended with the boy alone beneath a darkening sky, clenching his fists and swearing that nobody would ever treat him that way again.
The old man watched Zarek carefully. "Was that your reason?"
"For a time."
"And now?"
Zarek opened his mouth, but no answer came immediately. He had fought to survive, to protect his companions, to uncover the truth behind the mysteries surrounding him. His reasons had changed with every battle, yet beneath them all lay the same desire: never to be powerless again.
"I wanted the freedom to decide my own fate," he finally answered.
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly. "And if that freedom required taking it away from everyone weaker than you?"
"I wouldn't accept it."
"Even if doing so meant losing the strength you spent your life obtaining?"
Zarek's jaw tightened. "Strength that requires me to become the very thing I despise isn't worth possessing."
For the first time, the old man smiled. It was not a smile of approval, but one of recognition, as though Zarek had finally reached the entrance to a question he had not yet learned to ask.
"Good. Now let us see whether your actions agree with your words."
The old man stood.
The instant his feet touched the mirror, the stars above them went dark. Zarek felt the change before he saw it. The space around him tightened, compressing the distance between every point until the dead tree appeared to stand directly beside him. Then the old man vanished.
Zarek twisted to his left.
A wooden sword struck his ribs.
The impact hurled him across the mirror. He twisted in midair, gathered his spiritual energy beneath his feet, and landed in a crouch, but pain had already spread through his side. Before he could straighten, the old man appeared in front of him and brought the sword down toward his shoulder.
Zarek crossed both forearms to block.
The wooden blade struck his guard with a sharp crack. His knees buckled, and the mirror beneath him rippled violently. He redirected the force sideways, slipped out from beneath the sword, and drove his elbow toward the old man's chest.
He withdrew his hand and began observing the sphere instead.
The cracks beneath it were not spreading outward. They were bending inward, as though the space surrounding the object were being drawn toward a point that did not exist. Zarek watched the distortion carefully, remembering the moment his attack had missed the Keeper.
Perhaps the sphere was not resisting movement.
Perhaps he was misunderstanding what movement meant.
He focused on the space between the sphere and his hand, not attempting to push the object but examining the relationship between the two. For an instant, the black sphere trembled.
The Keeper's smile disappeared.
Then blood trickled from Zarek's nose.
The sphere remained suspended, motionless.
But something inside Zarek had shifted.
A sensation of emptiness spread through his chest, subtle at first, like the fading memory of a dream. He tried to recall the warmth of the First Elder's hand on his shoulder before the expedition departed.
He remembered the gesture.
He remembered the words.
But for one terrifying moment, he could no longer remember how that warmth had made him feel.
Zarek staggered backward.
The Keeper immediately closed his hand around the sphere, and the distortion vanished.
"What did you do to me?" Zarek demanded.
"Nothing."
"Something was taken."
The old man's eyes became solemn. "Then you have discovered the first warning."
Zarek pressed a hand against his chest. The emptiness remained, faint but unmistakable.
The System spoke, its voice unusually quiet.
"Zarek, stop."
He had never heard it address him with such urgency.
The Keeper lowered his sword.
"Your second path is not asking you to sacrifice something yet," he said. "It is revealing what you may lose if you continue without understanding the price."
Zarek looked from the Keeper to the place where the black sphere had hovered.
He had wanted a new ability.
Instead, he had found the first indication that becoming something greater might cost him the very things that made his strength worth having.
And the worst part was that he could not tell whether the feeling would return.
The Keeper turned toward the dead tree.
"Rest. Tomorrow, we begin again."
Zarek remained where he stood, staring into the darkness.
Inside his consciousness, the System spoke once more.
"Zarek, there is something I have not told you about those who walked this path before you."
For the first time, the ancient voice sounded almost reluctant.
"None of them failed because they lacked power."
A pause followed.
"They failed because they discovered the price too late."