Chương 351: Chapter 345 - Makoh

Untouched by any eye but the world's own, in a quiet corner of the Vast Plains as dawn bled gold across the horizon, two embodiments of will faced one another. The White Wolf loomed vast and eternal, its fur a cascade of silver-white that shimmered like morning frost. Every strand swayed with the wind's breath, not in chaos but in rhythm—measured, unbroken, serene. Its eyes, pale as twin moons, watched without anger, without haste.

They held the calm of mountains, the weight of endless winters, the stillness of a predator that need not prove its dominion. And before it rose fire against ice. The Indochinese Tiger stood, a living blaze carved from defiance. Stripes of shadow laced its body like brands seared into molten bronze, each one pulsing with heat, with hunger, with fight. Its shoulders rolled with barely contained power, every muscle coiled as though ready to leap, to rend, to claim.

Its eyes burned amber, bright as wildfire consuming a forest, alive with the raw fury of youth that refused to bow. Wolf and Tiger. Serenity and Flame. Two wills, each vast, each unyielding, colliding beneath the newborn sun. The moment lingered. Seconds stretched. No word spoken, no step taken—until the gaze of the Wolf shifted. And in the next breath, it was gone, dissolving as if it had never been, returning to the world itself. The crushing weight eased.

The pressure that had held her down, that had felt like the very sky demanding her submission, lifted at last. Ayu exhaled, her chest loosening as her Master's calm face filled her sight. She released her hold, and with her breath, the Tiger behind her unraveled—its fire fading into wind, its strength sinking back into earth.

"The world has noticed your will, child," Makoh said, his tone deep, steady, almost fatherly.

"It heard your voice. It felt the weight you carry." He stepped forward. Each stride seemed larger than it should have been, bending the distance until he stood close before her. Her eyes lifted to meet his, her chest tightening, as if she already knew what was coming.

"That weight," he continued, "is not a burden. It is the root that holds you, the stone that anchors you, the fire that drives you. Without it, you are nothing. With it, you can move earth and sky." His gaze sharpened, calm yet unyielding, a truth spoken by the earth itself.

"Walk with it, Ayu. The world will open as far as your will can bear." Her eyes burned red as the words struck deep, resonating with everything she was. Makoh smiled. He opened his palms, bone daggers gleaming in the light, then cast them toward her.

"The path of the World's Flow has no end." And as her hands closed around the hilts, the last whisper drifted on the wind:" I will be watching." When Ayu lifted her gaze from the daggers— He was gone. Only the soft breeze and the vast plains remained. She stood in silence, the daggers heavy in her hands, yet steady—as though they had always belonged there. Slowly, a smile rose from the deepest part of herself. Not one of joy, but of realization. She bowed, her face pressed low to the earth, and she stayed there.

The wind moved across her back, rustling her hair, carrying the faint scent of soil and dawn, as if the world itself bore witness to her vow. In that bow lay more than gratitude. It held respect that could not be spoken, awe that filled her chest until it ached, and a quiet acceptance of the path her Master had revealed. In his presence, she had seen what it meant to walk without faltering. In his leaving, she understood—this was now hers to carry. Her breath deepened. Her heart beat steady.

"Thank you… Master." At last, she lifted her head. Her eyes were not the same. No longer uncertain. No longer searching. They were grounded as stone, yet alight with a fire just kindled—a flame that would not go out. She somehow knew she would not see him again. Something deep inside told her, with painful clarity, that this was farewell. And yet, another part of her whispered there was more to her Master than he had shown. Those last words… he will be watching?

Her gaze drifted to the sky for a moment, before lowering again to the pair of bone daggers in her hands. Makoh's Daggers The name itself appeared as she looked upon them, like the Wyvern's Mark had before. Yet nothing else revealed itself. No hidden power. No sudden surge in strength. That was all—just the name. She gripped them tightly, then sheathed her kukris at her waist, feeling the contrast. The daggers weighed far more than the kukris ever had, which now seemed almost feather-light.

These weapons, though heavier, fit perfectly in her hands—the balance, the size, the weight, the feel. They were like made for her. Her gaze traced the edge. Razor-thin, impossibly sharp. How could such a weapon be carved of bone? What creature's remains could be so heavy, so dense, and honed to such an edge? She did not know. But she embraced the gift. These weapons were not only far stronger—they felt like a part of her. A true step beyond any blade she had carried until now.

Only when her emotions settled did she remember the reason behind this spar with her Master. The thread of life Makoh had guarded within the beastmen ruins of Xayen. The root of all their DNA enhancement formulas. The prize that required her to face the Guardian—her Master, Makoh. She had almost forgotten it, already feeling more than rewarded after this last encounter. This last lesson. One she would never forget. So much so that the original objective now seemed a lesser reward in comparison. Love this novel?

Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. He had spoken no word of it, even as he disappeared, yet Ayu felt certain that if she went there, the way would be opened for her. But… should she? Even if it promised strength, Alonso had warned her of its dangers. Something that could rewrite her very being, her intrinsic code, her DNA… Would that not change who she was? And yet, she understood now. So long as she steadied herself—so long as she carried the weight, her weight —she would remain.

No matter what power touched her blood, no matter what trials broke her body, the weight was her anchor, her fire, her truth. As long as it remained—as long as her will stood true—she would always be Ayu. She breathed deep, filling her lungs with the rhythm of the wind, the fire in her chest steady, unshaken. The fear that had lingered before was gone. What stood in its place was certainty. In the next heartbeat her form vanished, the world carrying her as if it knew her intent.

She reappeared before the ruins, the ancient stones rising like bones of the earth. Her gaze fell on the words etched above the entrance.

'Life'.

'Awaken'. Once, she had read them with wonder, with hesitation, with questions that clouded her. Now she walked forward with no hesitation at all. Step by step, the silence deepened until the sealed chamber rose to meet her. The air hummed as though it too had been waiting, and before her eyes the compartment stirred, revealing a single vial. It pulsed with colour—red, gold, and silver hues that seemed to breathe, swirling like molten veins trapped in glass. Alone, set apart, untouched by time.

Yet it called to her. Her hand closed around it. Warmth surged into her skin, like the vial itself recognized her claim. No one had ever told her what to do. But she knew. She lifted it, steadied her breath, and drank. The liquid burned as it touched her tongue—heat, sharp as lightning, flooding her throat, searing down into her chest. She did not flinch. She did not stop. She drank it all. The last drop slid down, and for an instant it was still—calm, quiet, warm. Then… pain.

It hit like an inferno bursting from her core, spreading through her veins in searing waves. Fire raced beneath her skin, bright and merciless, until every vessel glowed like molten iron. Her muscles convulsed, spasming as if ripped apart and stitched together by unseen claws. Her bones creaked. Then they shifted. Agony surged through her spine, her ribs, her arms—like stone being cracked and reforged while she still lived inside it. Her jaw clenched hard enough to draw blood.

Her teeth ground as she fought not to scream, the sound locked in her throat, strangled by the fire that burned her lungs raw. Every heartbeat was a hammer blow, breaking and remaking her. Every breath dragged shards of glass into her chest. Her body writhed, shuddering, as if it no longer belonged to her—an alien cage reshaping itself around her. Her vision blurred to white. Her knees hit the earth. Her fingers clawed at the stone, desperate for an anchor that could not be found.

And still the blaze consumed her, tearing, molding, crushing. Until even the strength to resist left her. Her jaw slackened. Her arms gave way. And as the agony reached its peak, her mind tore loose from her body—consciousness slipping like sand through her fingers. She fell into the dark, unconscious.

"You ok?" Alonso blinked out of his thoughts and smiled as Imani lowered himself onto the cliff's edge beside him.

"Yeah. All good," he said. Imani studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod and let his eyes drift out over the horizon—the mountain range stretching far, snow-capped peaks gleaming ahead.

"Mei picked up a signal from Lukas and Chiara. They relayed it through the platform's antenna frequency," Imani said.

"At first Lukas said they were on their way, but then Chiara chimed in saying they still needed to make some 'final adjustments' to the Xayen's Meca."

"Huh? Chiara said that?" Alonso raised an eyebrow.

"Weird. I didn't think she knew the first thing about Meca tuning."

"She doesn't," Imani replied evenly. Silence hung for a moment.

"I see…" Alonso said at last, his gaze narrowing.

"I wonder what this Extreme Pillar Path really means. You reckon she's… well…" He left the thought unfinished, but Imani understood. Everyone had noticed the way Chiara's mind seemed to tilt further toward something almost mechanical, detached. It was worrying.

"Let's hope it's for the best," Imani said quietly. Then he smiled, as if to shift the weight of the moment, and turned his eyes back on Alonso with a knowing glint.

"But I don't think it's Chiara and Lukas who've got you tied in knots. She'll be fine." Alonso's smile was quick, a little forced.

"Yeah… I know. She's her, after all." But deep down, the words rang hollow. He'd been sending transmissions to Ayu since yesterday—no answer. Not since she'd told him she was going to face Makoh and… the DNA thing. That more than anything scared him. Still, it was her choice. Her path. All he could do now was trust her—and be there when she needed him.

"So… how's your progress going?" Alonso asked, trying to steer his thoughts elsewhere.

"I'm close, but not quite there yet. Maybe a couple more days to reach the Third Standard Body State," Imani said.

"That's pretty good. So you're thinking of switching after all this is over? Same as Ayu—the Extreme Body Path?"

"Yes. I believe it suits me better. My Awakening and natural physique align with it, while the Pillar Path has little to offer. Nor do I feel a strong pull from it. I should've done it sooner, but…"

"It's fine. We all learn as we go," Alonso replied.

"I changed my own path a couple of times before I found the one that fit me best. Life's like that. Sometimes you follow a dream, a single road from the start. Other times it takes fifty years—or a lifetime—to realize it. So just follow your gut and—" He stopped. He felt it. The world shifted. A pulse—alive, not EM in nature, but something deeper—gripped his primal instincts. Every fibre of his body screamed, warning him of the presence now close. His heart skipped.

His hands snapped to his blades, body turning, ready to— He froze. She was there. Standing before him. Yet… she was different. Her hair seemed thicker, wilder, strands flowing not only down her back but falling forward over her shoulders, framing her face like the mane of something untamed. She was much taller—no longer the barely 1. 60 metres from before, but over 1. 73, now only half a head shorter than him.

Her arms were longer, her frame leaner, yet every line of muscle seemed denser than any metal, as if her very flesh had been reforged under fire. Her posture was straight, unyielding. There was a symmetry to her now that was almost unsettling in its perfection, every line of her body poised in balance, harmony carved into human form. Her face bore that same symmetry, sharpened in a way that turned heads by instinct alone—cheekbones high, gaze piercing, lips curved with effortless grace.

She was beautiful in the way fire was beautiful: dangerous, consuming, impossible to deny. And her eyes—amber flame. They no longer simply looked; they hunted. A predator's gaze, burning with the primal force of a tiger that could not be leashed. The air itself seemed to acknowledge her. The ground bowed faintly beneath her step, the breeze bent toward her, even the silence swelled in reverence.

Her very presence was magnetic, primal—an aura that pulled the world around her into orbit, a gravity not of weight but of will. He felt it pulse inside him too, that attraction, that undeniable pull toward her fire. Then she smiled. And in that smile, he saw it—behind the fire, beneath the primal force, it was still her. Still Ayu. Still his Ayu. Alonso's lips curved as the tension in his chest eased.

The pressure she emanated no longer pressed him down—it lifted him up, like gravity lessened, like a weight he hadn't even known he carried had been shared with him. He smiled back.