One step after the other, Micheal calmly strode through the corridor of a Shadow Raven base, the ceiling lights shining down on his false form. The intel from Sigurd had proven true. 

The base was located deep in the Great Ocelot Forest, a region where Adventurers like Dolf and his gang would be quickly ripped apart, and even highly skilled elites would be forced to sweat.

The maze-like base was colossal and well-hidden, with most of it buried underground, no different to an iceberg. Micheal had lucked out. While flying high, he spotted a group of White Feathers roaming about in the forest. Micheal closed in on the group like the world's deadliest assassin - which wasn't far from the truth.

Four of the five died in the blink of an eye, none of them even registering Micheal's presence before they parted ways with the world of the living. The remaining White Feather was destined to die, but not before Micheal extracted everything of value. After imprisoning the middle-aged man in a telekinetic hold, Micheal dove into the other's Mental Domain. It took two minutes of dedicated effort to destroy the other's defensive mental array, but after that, the Raven had free reign of the man's mind. 

After several minutes of prodding and probing, a more enlightened Micheal withdrew his telepathic grasp. He thrust his finger and tendrils into the man, frozen in fear and magic. Having extracted everything he needed, Micheal killed the White Feather with a lethal injection. The execution was clean and surgical; such was Micheal's way. The Raven knew not to let his anger and hatred seep into his killing, for such emotions could lead down a dark path with no return.

Reminding himself of this, the Raven assumed the dead man's likeness. Using the genetic map he had extracted, Micheal's flesh twisted to perfectly resemble the dead White Feather. Next, he disrobed the man with his telekinesis and dressed himself in the corpse's clothes to complete the disguise. Finally, Micheal cleaned the crime scene. He doused the area with his <White Death>, and that was that. The blood-stained dirt, the torn limbs...everything was swallowed up and reduced to white mist before scattering in the breeze.

From there, everything was straightforward. The Raven moved toward the base, using the White Feather's memories as a guide. His infiltration went smoothly. He passed through the entrance of a moss-filled hill without issue and headed to the main combat hall. 

Micheal hid not out of fear of being discovered - not at all. There were a lot of Feathers, but even altogether, they couldn't threaten him. If he wished, he could have destroyed the base from the outside in one move. He just preferred to do things cleanly.

After traversing many corridors and halls, he arrived at his destination. 

The combat hall was a giant cubic room, tiled with large grey tiles and illuminated by large rectangular electric panels overhead. Two balconies faced each other and overlooked the massive space where bouts frequently occurred. 

"Coffyn or Drenen? Fifty matches to fifty, dead even. I'm placing my bets on Drenen. How about you?"

"It's a coin flip...so I'll let one decide. Aha, Coffyn, it is then."

Micheal paid no heed to the chatter of the surrounding White Feathers and moved to the balcony's edge. He set his sights on the two below. They stood only metres apart and were engaged in casual conversation via telepathy. Locking onto them caused Micheal's eyes to flash with delight.

He had hit the jackpot.

Coffyn the Skulker and Drenen the Red Aroma. The two were Black Feathers, elites of Shadow Raven. They were designated as S-ranked threats in the Pillar factions' Black Book. 

'Good thing I came and not someone else,' Micheal thought before dropping down.

"Huh? What are you doing?" asked Coffyn, the confusion on his face hidden by the skull mask he perpetually wore. His fellow Black Feather's face was easier to make out, though red-streaked black hair covered up the left side of his face.

Micheal didn't care to respond. He shed his disguise in a blaze of golden light and revealed himself before the Feathers. 

To his allies and the innocent, Micheal Ascania was an angel, but to his enemies, the man was a...

"Demon," someone on the balcony couldn't help but mutter as fear seized them.

<Heavenly Demon: White Asura>

Micheal's once blue eyes were now scarlet, like pools of blood; his fair skin was a few shades lighter; and his long blonde locks flowed with a wintry hue, now a translucent white. 

The surface-level changes were merely the tip of the iceberg. The crux of the form's potency lay beneath. Apart from his brain, which remained intact, everything that made Micheal human vanished. The weakness of the flesh was discarded and replaced. 

When the Raven intended to go all out, Micheal would transform into the White Asura. A golden sheen enveloped his figure as his Ascendant aura emanated from his being. 

Coffyn and Drenen exchanged pale glances, acknowledging the direness of the situation. The Black Feathers nodded, and the telepathic link between them snapped before they turned to Micheal. Their Rank 9 Telekinetic auras flared up. They would fight, for that was the only choice they had.

Micheal noted their resolve and moved. Rings of force were left in his wake. Igniting air with his hypersonic movement, he appeared before Drenen a moment later.

The Black Feather mentally gulped but nonetheless moved to defend himself. The Psi armour he wore thickened by several layers, and his arms rushed to form an X-shaped guard. It was futile, though. Micheal saw it as a target to aim for, and thus, he did.

<Black Death> proved an unstoppable force. Palming the ball of destruction, Micheal's casual thrust erased the top half of Drenen's head, instantly killing him.

Boom!

'Fuck!' Coffyn cursed as his attack failed, the last sliver of hope leaving his system. The Black Feather's left leg had whipped out and struck the barrier coating Micheal's forehead.

<Black Death> was a potent technique, but its power came at a high aura cost. Supposedly, Micheal could only summon two at any given time. Coffyn and Drenen had strategized during their brief exchange, intending to use each other's deaths as a window of opportunity to deliver an all-out attack in hopes that it would be enough to penetrate Micheal's golden barrier.

As it turned out, it wasn't enough. 

Micheal was unmoved by the Black Feather's efforts, literally, not an inch. The barrier rippled but held firm. The kick's force was swallowed whole by the lake of gold. Micheal's left hand shot upwards and snapped around the Black Feather's ankle like a hungry snake.

'No!' Drenen panicked as he foresaw the obvious. With pure desperation flowing through his veins, he summoned a Psi sword and severed his leg with a slash before darting backwards. He saw Micheal move to pursue him and activated his <Shadow Cloud> technique.

Vanta Psi exploded outwards to form a cloud of darkness, the technique meant to obscure all awareness. Nothing but escaping filled the Black Feather's mind as he searched for a way out. However, Micheal was not about to allow that.

The Raven parted the darkness as though light itself, appearing before the Black Feather with his right hand balled into a fist. With a twist, he let it fly. 

Drenen did his all to defend, but his all was far from enough. It was a clear-cut greater than less than equation, and he was on the wrong side of it. 

Boom!

A miniature sun seemed to bloom at the point of the impact, giving rise to a fiery explosion that rocked the combat hall. Drenen's body was blown to smithereens by the ferocious force, and then those gruesome chunks were incinerated by the heat of the flames, leaving no trace of the former Black Feather.

The combat hall was broken and blackened in the aftermath. Deep web-like cracks adorned its walls and floors, the electronic panels were shattered and melted, and the balconies collapsed, sending charred corpses hurtling down.

Micheal stood in the dark, now alone in the combat hall. The dozens in attendance had met their demise by either the heat or force. Satisfaction washed over him, the kind that visited whenever one felt like they were doing their duty. Pride and pleasure swirled within him as well, but he didn't lose himself to these feelings. 

'More remain.'

At the thought, Micheal ceased his idling and moved to eliminate the rest of the Feathers. Two minutes later, he was down to the last target, one Chase Micula.

The twenty-year-old sat with his back against the wall, face grim as he locked eyes with the harbinger of death and destruction that came into view. He didn't bother to speak. Micheal was known to be a silent killer. Instead, the White Feather raised his special revolver and brought it to his temple while eyeing Micheal. Then, flashing a crazed smile, he pulled the trigger. A bang and a blood spurt. The White Feather's figure slumped to the side like a corpse would.

Micheal almost cracked a smile. The other's attempt to fool him - the Immortal of all people - was nothing short of absurd. There was no one more skilled in cheating death than himself. The Raven's telekinesis rushed forth. The young man realised that his ploy failed and instinctively guarded himself with Psi, but it was pointless, and his body was crushed and squeezed until it was the size of a soccer ball - a crimson one at that.

'And done. Now, to deal with that,' Micheal's face grew tense at the thought. The Raven headed for the base's deepest floors. He passed by the carnage he wrought.

The blood, guts and torn limbs of burnt and broken corpses littered the place. Cracks and craters now marred the walls, floors and ceilings. Bullets and artillery shells were frequent sights, some embedded into the walls, some in the crevices, some in blood puddles, and some still rolling about, letting off clinks.

Faced with this scene, your average Inisian would have their stomach turn, but not Micheal. His now blue eyes were no different from a lake at rest. His long life had allowed him to experience many similar sights. The only thing that could bother him was the stench, but having disabled his sense of smell, Micheal was unbothered. With steady steps, he strode forward, navigating past the 'obstacles' littering his path.

Reaching the lowest level, Micheal stepped into a vast chamber. Gaze falling on the objects piled up on the other side, a frown surfaced on his handsome face.

‘Again.’

Without the need to open the crates, he knew that they contained weapons and ammunition.

Micheal was greatly troubled by this. It wasn’t strange for the Shadow Raven to have weapons. What was offputting was the staggering amount they possessed.

Though the exact number of the Shadow Raven's forces remained a mystery, Micheal estimated them to be no more than thirty thousand strong, even when accounting for Dimitri's thousands of vessels. The stockpile in this base alone was more than enough to satisfy the needs of forty thousand members. If this was an isolated case or rare occurrence, it wouldn't be as troubling, but it wasn't. Every Shadow Raven base raid in recent memory saw a similar sight.

The abundance concerned him, for while knives could be used in a kitchen, firearms and bombs had only one place they belonged: the battlefield.

Using his telekinesis, he retrieved a rifle from the pile. 

‘It's odd,' he thought, examining the gun. 'These weapons are clearly new. Where are they produced? Given the amount we’ve seen, there would have to be dozens of factories working non-stop for it to make sense. But we’ve checked all major factories, and it’s not like production can be hidden. Leaving its production aside, how are they moving such large quantities without being flagged by the Pillar factions? Normal means can’t explain it. Dimitri must have acquired a few special vessels.”

Thinking of the Shadow Raven's infamous leader, Micheal’s face crumbled into a bitter expression. ‘He’s been quiet for a while now - too quiet. I’m sure he’s planning something big. Stock pilling weapons of war must be part of it.’

Under the flickering light, Micheal’s heartbeat became erratic with anxiety. In his position, he was always thinking about the bigger picture. Knowing what Dimitri was capable of, he couldn’t help but tense up. He shut his eyes.

After a few seconds in the comforting darkness, Micheal’s heartbeat steadied. ‘When isn’t he up to no good? Never. This time will be like every other time. No matter what he plans or schemes, I'll destroy it.'

His eyelids slowly opened. A determined light shone from his blue orbs. There was no need to overthink things. He would do as he had always done.

Micheal’s Psi moved over the rifle, and a moment later, the gun was erased from the material plane. White mist took its place before scattering into the surrounding air.

<White Death> devoured the crates in the distance and then moved to swallow up the entire base and surrounding dirt. In seconds, all that remained was a vast expanse of white mist. Micheal floated in the space the base previously occupied, now a great chasm in the earth. He ascended, escaping the darkness to reach the light at the end of the man-made tunnel.

‘This won’t cripple the Shadow Raven, but it should kill their activity in this region for a while. Having Ralf stay somewhere in Zudrad is probably the safest option. I’ll let Hana know on my way back.’

Not lingering a second longer, Micheal took to the sky and rocketed westward.

A meeting between S-Rank Adventurers would ensue.

***

Moving back in time to directly after Ralf was struck by the Zenki Spear...

‘Ah, I’m still alive?’

Coming to, this was Ralf’s first thought. Surprise and relief were felt in equal parts as he clutched his chest. 

‘Whoa, that was crazy. I was sure that was the end right there. Definitely don’t want to go through that again.’

The experience was both bizarre and terrifying. It also lasted a lot longer than he thought it would. Scorching heat, frigid cold, excruciating pain, indescribable pleasure... Being pierced caused Ralf to experience a slew of extreme and contradictory sensations.

While experiencing these strange sensations, the colossal sums of pure energy contained in the Zenki Spear poured into Ralf’s Soul Core. Absorbing the energy, Ralf’s Soul Core ballooned to dozens, hundreds, thousands, then tens of thousands of times its original size.

At that point, the myriad of sensations took a step back, and unbearable pain took the fore. It was overwhelming. And worse yet, the sphere continued to grow. He tried stopping the invasion of energy but was unable to. Ralf felt the very fabric of his soul beginning to tear. And a moment later, this feeling was reflected in reality. Unable to endure the inflation, his Soul Core ruptured.

Usually, this would mark one’s end, but not Ralf's.

His Unique identity, more specifically the automatic activation, had saved him. As his soul was moments away from dissipating beyond return, the connection to the Great Aether was established, and his power was activated.

The automatic activation shaved off most of the energy present. Of what remained, 90% returned to his Soul Core, while the remaining 10% was released as the Psi explosion that rocked the outside world. 

Another thing working in Ralf's favour was the immaturity of his soul. It was elastic, giving it great resilience. His Soul Core returned to its original size and shape without any negative effects.

Ralf didn’t understand the specifics of everything he went through, but he knew he had lucked out.

These feelings would quickly change, though.

‘Hmm, where am I?’

Pushing the near-death experience to the back of his mind, Ralf surveyed the black void he found himself in.

It was a vast empty space. Strangely, despite no discernible light sources in sight, the place was thoroughly lit up. Standing up, Ralf could see well into the distance.

‘Hmm? What’s this?’

Looking in a particular direction, Ralf was astonished. His perception had suddenly extended beyond the curvature.

‘Did I do that?’

Intrigued, Ralf consciously tried extending his sight. And lo and behold, it happened again. His eyes widened in awe.

‘What’s happening here? What’s with this place? Let me try something else.’

He glanced at his palm and focused on a specific image. A moment later, the object materialized before him.

‘Whoa, so cool!’

Wooden sword in hand, Ralf’s heart surged with excitement at what this meant.

A thought later, a second sword appeared in his free hand. Perching them on either shoulder, Ralf contemplated his whereabouts. Searching his memories, he quickly arrived at an answer.

‘A dark void where one can create mental projections…this must be my Mental Domain. Though,’ Ralf glanced around, ‘I don’t see any of that so-called soul swamp around here. This darkness is hard and glossy. Not sludge-like at all, ' he thought, tapping down and meeting firm resistance. 'Yeah, this is different. Since it shares a few similarities, I’ll call this place, 'Mental Space' from now on. No, that sounds too simple. Hm, let’s call it…Monochrome. Yeah, that sounds much better,” Ralf nodded at the name, finding it perfect. “I’ll explore a bit, then head back to the outside world. Aha, I can't wait to tell Mom. I became a psionic and a Unique one to boot. She'll be over the moon for sure.'

A beaming smile surfaced as he pictured his mom’s thrilled reaction. Unfortunately for Ralf, he wouldn’t get to see his beloved mother anytime soon.

‘Ah? Ah!’

Mid-stride, the youth was seized by a familiar irresistible tug, one far more powerful than before. All resistance was futile before the immense power and Ralf's consciousness were thrown through the void.

His next destination…another world.