Chương 426: Chapter 414 - Carving a Path No One Walks

Alonso read the message with mixed emotions. On one hand, he was genuinely happy for her. He knew exactly how much that step meant to Ayu. He had seen how hard she pushed, how stubbornly she refused to slow down. At the same time, it reminded him that time never waited. Over the last 11 days since leaving Riviera, he had edged closer to his next Realm, refined his understanding, sharpened his combat prowess.

Yet the others had begun to leap forward by advancing their States, multiplying their strength, while his own path narrowed into something steeper and slower. And worst of all… he stood nowhere near his next State. Alonso exhaled, long and steady. Then he sent a message back." Enjoy the lead while it lasts;)" Also… Ayu had truly been fast. The last he had heard, by native standards, advancing at 42% SP toward the Fourth State usually took 2 to 3 months. For geniuses in this world, it took 3 to 4 weeks.

And yet Ayu had done it in just 11 days. That spoke volumes about the depth of her talent for the Body Path, and perhaps shed some light on why an entity as mysterious as her master, Makoh, had chosen her. It was truly impressive. Shortly after, more messages arrived, congratulating her. She replied that she was now aiming to secure her Gold-rank licence and solo a mid-tier Dungeon to get herself a full Grade 4 set. Alonso couldn't help but chuckle dryly.

Just like that, a single State difference had likely turned Ayu's previous Power Index of around 11–12, 000 into something beyond 21, 000. And it made sense. The raw multiplier alone, given their title, meant roughly an 85% boost. Add to that the enlightenment that followed ascension, spilling into sharper control and accelerated progress across all Skills, and the gap between States became one of entirely different planes of existence. As for him…

he had nearly died countless times, and likely would nearly die countless times more, gambling his life on an idea of his own design, hoping it would be enough to reach his next Combat Realm and open the path to his next State. This world… was truly unfair. But he would not blame it. His ascension had grown increasingly complex compared to the others because of Darius and Houston. Yet it was also because of them that he now stood where he did. They were part of his strength, and part of who he was.

He did not regret it in the slightest. Quite the contrary. As awkward as their birth had been… they had become indispensable to his existence, something he was genuinely grateful for. If that made his path harder… so be it. He would gladly pay the price. More than that… the road he now walked was not one imposed upon him. It was not a path neatly laid by The Tower and its schematics. It was one he had chosen. One he had carved. And one he would walk to the very end…

even if he had to force the world to acknowledge it. Alonso knew he was on a deadline. Like every stage before this, he was certain The Tower would ensure they never idled, raising the tide of the stage without pause until they either advanced… or were swallowed by it. That meant… he could not remain in this cycle of training forever. If he failed to ascend, he would fall behind, sliding beneath the rising difficulty and losing his place beside those who stood at the vanguard.

The thought settled heavy in his chest. And yet… he pushed it aside. Doubt had no place on the path he had chosen. If he did not believe in it… who would? He steadied his mind. His focus narrowed. And with that weight settled, he continued down his road.

After 13 days had passed, both Chiara and Leonie sent messages of their advancement, separated by only a couple of hours. Ayu had already completed her first solo mid-tier Dungeon, passed the Guild's assessment, and become the first among them to secure a Gold-rank Adventurer licence—the highest tier permitted at Riviera's branch, and the same level Gregor himself held. As for Alonso… he read their messages with a grim smile, his body drenched in blood from his latest ordeal.

When 15 days had passed, Pablo advanced as well, becoming the fourth among them to do so. With it, his summons evolved further, and his personal Skill, Chorus of Thoughts, advanced, allowing him to sustain five parallel partitioned minds at once—or channel one summon bearing four simultaneous mutations. Meanwhile, Chiara and Leonie had officially stepped into Gold-rank, while also securing proper Sets and full Grade 4 gear. As for Alonso… he had managed to push Will Manifest and No-Strike up by half a percentage.

The cost had been more blood than his body should have held… and a moment where he had nearly died, cracking his Escape Crystal almost too late, a blade already halfway across his throat.

17 days had gone by since he left Riviera. Lukas and Imani had sent notice of their advancement, becoming the last two to ascend, leaving only Alonso at the Third State. The others progressed accordingly, refining their Skills and Will control while clearing several mid-tier Dungeons—the same ones Alonso had passed through and bled in days earlier—allowing all of them to secure the best available gear and matching Sets.

They were now planning to join forces and challenge the optional boss of one of those mid-tier Dungeons, the natural trial designed for Gold-rank Adventurer teams, aiming to push their SP beyond 42% and obtain Grade 5 gear. Alonso leaned back against the trunk of a broad tree as he read their messages. His face was drawn, fatigue etched into his features, the pressure upon him growing heavier with each passing day. And yet… he would continue. If he failed… he would fail without regret. This… was his way.

For better or worse… this was his way.

21 days had come and gone. And with each day here lasting nearly 50% longer than one on Earth, it weighed far heavier than the number suggested. Alonso's phone pulsed again. The others had joined forces and defeated one of the mid-tier special bosses, an entity with a Power Index of 42, 000. With it, they had claimed an additional Grade 3 Title, fixed 3% stat orbs that pushed their SP to 45%, and a single piece of Grade 5 gear. Now… they were already on their way to the next. Alonso exhaled slowly.

Private messages followed, as they had for days now, especially from Ayu, asking how he was and when he would join them. He focused on the signals for a long moment. What could he say? In the end, he told them he was fine. That his path was demanding, but steady. That he would join them soon. White lies. Perhaps not only to them… but to himself. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. He let his head sink back into the cool river.

The red that had soaked into his coat drifted slowly downstream, dissolving into the current. Soon after, a message arrived from Leonie, asking for his current location so she could ship him one of the seven red orbs from the special boss and boost his SP. Alonso smiled. Three weeks ago, he had been the one scouting the region, gathering special orbs from low-tier Dungeons for the others. Now… the roles had reversed. From being the strongest, he had become the weakest. He let out a quiet laugh. What a loss of face.

He eventually replied to Leonie, explaining that he would remain constantly on the move, had no fixed location, and was currently quite far from them—nearly on the opposite side of Brithelm. There were hardly any mid-tier Dungeons left within the vast kingdom that he hadn't already entered. He told her to save the orbs for when he returned and regrouped with them, and congratulated them on their success. By now, he was certain the rest were nearing—if not already at—the peak of Gold-rank standards.

Their Awakenings and Titles consistently placed them above natives at the same level. From there, it would be a matter of accumulation—SP, gear, Titles, Skill progress, Will, technique—before they began to touch the next threshold: Mithril. Alonso breathed in the freshness of the wild, the vegetation that surrounded him resembling something closer to a tundra forest on Earth only scaled upward. He stood there, as he closed his eyes, letting time pass and the water calm his thoughts.

He remained in that silence for longer than usual, but eventually stood up once more… and resumed his journey.

Leonie stared at her phone for a long while. She read Alonso's message again. And again. Only then did she exhale. Despite their recent, hard-earned victory, a quiet shadow lingered over the group.

"What did he say?" Chiara asked.

"He said he'll join us soon, but he's currently in the east of Brithelm and… it may take a while." Pablo frowned.

"Why is it taking him this long? I know you mentioned something about his Awakening making his State ascension harder, but… this? Delayed to the level of native standards? That makes no sense. The Tower shouldn't handicap him like that."

"It isn't the Tower," Ayu said quietly. The others turned toward her.

"Alonso walks a path he chose himself." She lifted her gaze, steady.

"We used to see only the strongest among us. The one we leaned on. The one who held the sky when everything felt lost. But that strength wasn't handed to him." Her jaw tightened.

"He earned it. Every bit of it. He carved it out, step by step, through something harder and more painful than what any of us has faced. And the price for that… is heavy." She looked toward the horizon.

"I don't know what he's going through right now. But I know he's suffering. I know he's pushing toward something that probably hasn't been done before. And I know… he'll succeed." Her voice softened, though it did not falter.

"So all we can do now is keep going. Keep improving. Keep pushing forward. Because even if he lags behind for a while… when we reach the next horizon…" A faint, fierce smile touched her lips.

"He'll be there. Waiting for us at the top." Silence followed. Ayu's Will had woven through her words unconsciously, quiet and resolute, her belief carrying a weight of its own. The others eventually nodded. And with that… they resumed their march toward their next big fight.

The third face screamed as Alonso's blade tore through it. Bog-flesh split. Rotting vines snapped. The towering mass of the Fen Matriarch shuddered— —and then folded inward. The severed torso melted. The entire coven fused. Bone twisted. Moss and drowned limbs braided together. Three faces rotated into a single crown atop a colossal body of swamp-matter, rising higher, thicker, its lower half dissolving into a churning bog that swallowed stone whole. The air turned wet and heavy. Her third phase had begun.

The Fen Matriarch's Will erupted. A domain of marsh and grave-water expanded outward in a crushing wave. The ground liquefied beneath Alonso's boots, sucking him knee-deep in black mire. Pale spirits rose within the fog—faceless shapes bound to the Matriarch's core—circling in tightening spirals. Her three faces rotated, chanting in layered cadence. The swamp became law. Alonso coughed blood and forced himself upright. His ribs had not fully sealed from the previous exchange. One arm trembled.

His vision flickered at the edges. He stepped forward anyway. His void rose behind him. The silhouette unfolded—vast, star-filled, immovable. Galaxies and distant suns turned within it as his Will expanded outward, pressing against the encroaching bog and claiming the ground around him. Where her Will surged to drown and consume, his cut through and divided, anchoring his authority into the field and bending the battle toward his presence. The mire hissed at the boundary.

Spirits shrieked as they struck the unseen edge of his domain and were torn apart upon it. He moved. No-Strike His body slipped through the first wave of bog-spirits without resistance, blades carving along the seams of their formation without meeting substance. He did not chase flesh. He cut where their Will converged. The Matriarch answered. Her swamp surged upward in a towering spiral, forming a tidal vortex of mud and bone fragments that collapsed toward him from all directions.

Vines laced with spectral faces whipped inward, seeking throat, joints, spine. Alonso stepped into the convergence. His heel found a shard of broken stone half-buried in muck. He pivoted. Distance folded. Three rotating faces lunged in staggered sequence, each opening into a cavern of green flame and drowned teeth. He severed the first tongue before it formed. Twisted under the second jaw. Drove both blades upward through the seam between the third and the crown of spirits binding it.

For a breath, the field trembled. His presence thickened. The swamp shifted. He felt it— almost there. The Matriarch roared. The bog exploded outward in her ultimate surge. Every spirit ignited. Every vine stiffened into spears. The entire swamp rose into a spiralling cathedral of black water and shrieking souls, descending in total collapse like doomsday. Alonso bared his teeth as he fought to stabilise his trembling domain. This was it… he had made it… the final, decisive exchange. He planted both feet.

His void flared. Stars ignited brighter. Will Manifest— —Path of Shards And then every star… became his blade. The field dissolved into cutting trajectories—countless intersecting lines tearing forward along impossible vectors. Shards of condensed Will split from the vast void, carving through space itself. He did not yield ground.

He drove forward and anchored the skill, forcing the storm of fragments into alignment, tightening their paths under his authority until chaos became structure, and structure became execution. His Will surged in answer, control and intensity fusing into a single edge that met the Matriarch's descending cathedral in a clash that split the chamber. Air ruptured. Vines disintegrated mid-flight, severed before completing their arcs.

Bog-water flashed into incandescent vapour, torn apart by crossing lines of luminous fracture. The Matriarch hurled her spiralling mass downward, three faces shrieking in unified fury as swamp and spirits collapsed into a single annihilating wave. Alonso answered with everything left in him. The void behind him burst into a storm of radiant shards, each fragment bearing his intent, his distance, his timing, his scars, his hunger, his Will, the weight that had hung over him for weeks.

With a roar that tore through his lungs, he pushed forward and poured it all into the clash. The two ultimates collided. Swamp against void. Rot against fracture. The chamber convulsed. For a heartbeat, existence thinned to silence. Then— Crack The Fen Matriarch split from crown to core. Her fused torsos ruptured apart. Spirits tore free and scattered into fading embers. The cathedral buckled inward as cohesion failed and the swamp collapsed in on itself. The mire fell still. Silence returned. Alonso swayed.

His blades slipped from fingers that barely answered him. He dropped to one knee in blackened sludge already crusting to ash. Behind him, his void flickered, stars dimmed, the silhouette fractured after the strain of his ultimate. Even so… he smiled. His next Combat Realm still lay just beyond his full grasp— Yet he had done it. He had broken the final phase. He had defeated the boss… alone. After more than three weeks of suffering defeat at its hands… he had done it. He had reached mid-stage Gold-rank standards…

while still at the Third State. Yet as he breathed in the silence, letting the weight of victory settle, just ahead of him, the remnants of the creature he had slain… twitched.