Chương 22: Path of Phantoms

The lesser Oni grunted and threw its fists at Nero's face, while simultaneously sweeping its legs low. Nero let the downward sweep take him, falling backward, and with a kick to the Oni's shin, he rolled clear. The next sound he heard was air splitting, as another fist rocketed toward his head. He tensed his muscles, channeling strength into a slash that met the Oni's fist head-on. The sword struck true, biting into flesh and halting the punch mid-flight.

But the Oni was nothing if not relentless—it lashed out with its left, forcing Nero to draw his dagger and pierce straight through its clenched fist. Ignoring the wound, the momentum of the blow still caught him square on the jaw, sending him hurtling backward through bushes and branches until he slammed into a tree trunk. The impact forced blood from his lungs, and he struggled to rise.

Looking up, he saw the monster's fists glowing with a sickly green hue, its torn flesh stitching itself back together in real time. Nero spat out a mouthful of blood, grinning through a pained smirk.

"That's cheating, you know?" he said, pulling out one of his two bottles of healing potions and downing it in one go. The Oni frowned at the sight and lunged forward again.

"Talk about ignoring break time." Nero gritted his teeth and surged ahead. The monster swung from left to right. Nero countered by crouching low, focusing pristine Aura into his feet for a burst of speed, and darting forward. He shifted all that Aura to his hands while amping up the decaying Aura around his blade. The sword hissed, cleaving through the air before biting into the Oni's side. Halfway through, the blade stalled—it could go no deeper, stopped by the monster's dense hide.

A kick to Nero's chest sent him flying backward once more, crashing through brush so violently that broken branches drove into his back with wet, sickening squelch. Nero didn't try to stand this time. He just lay there, head spinning, surroundings blurring at the edges. How, exactly, am I supposed to defeat this thing? That single question rattled through his mind. The monster barely reacted to his attacks. Even stabs that tore through its stomach and flanks barely made it flinch.

As Nero gasped helplessly, the Aura of Decay around his short sword began to sputter and fade. He was tapped out. His back throbbed from the splinters lodged deep in his flesh. His chest heaved wildly, desperate to suck in any oxygen it could. And his brain buzzed like those mana-powered fans the nobles were rumored to keep. When he looked up, two pairs of silvery white eyes stared back instead of the clear night sky. The Oni loomed over him, the wounds he'd carved into its sides moments ago completely gone.

It didn't even flinch anymore from the internal pain the old man had earlier inflicted. So this is really it for me, huh. He started making peace with the reality. Guess the reward for this high-risk venture is death after all. He laughed inwardly, blood trickling from his lips, unable even to move them now as sensation drained from his limbs. Above him, the monster shot him a disdainful look. With a snort, it raised its leg over his head—ready to squash him like the watermelon it clearly took him for.

Nero closed his eyes in acceptance.

"Disrespectful as usual, huh, worm." A cold voice came from the behind him, and before he could check its source, he lost consciousness. … He wasn't sure how many hours he'd been out, but by the time his eyes opened, the battle before him was already reaching its climax. An old man stood in battle stance, long white beard flowing, his posture straight as a spear.

And oddly enough, Nero found much of his battered body restored to a decent state—not exactly brimming with vitality, but enough to unholster his last healing potion and gulp it down. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Up ahead, the old man traded blow for blow with the Oni, their fists cracking the very air as they smashed against each other's knuckles, faces, and stomachs in rapid succession. And contrary to what Nero expected, the old man was winning!

He rose unsteadily and watched the fight in a daze. The old man spoke aloud, clearly intending for Nero to hear. But first, his fists carved cleanly through the Oni's guard, sending it hurtling through several trees. The man then turned toward him, his body glowing with white runes. His eyes were sharp enough to make Nero stand a little straighter despite every muscle screaming in protest.

"State your name and station, child." His voice boomed, though he stood only a few meters away—carrying a distinct authority that made Nero obey instinctively.

"I-I am Nero, a solo adventurer, raised by the church for as long as I can remember." He stammered out. The man gave a slight nod and pivoted back toward the Oni, which was already back on its feet. For the first time, Nero noticed the creature's face showing emotions beyond disdain and stoicism—it was grinding its teeth, its features twisted in fury. The elder's voice pulled his attention back, "focus on my movements from here on out. This will be my last battle—absorb as much of my technique as you can."

The man extended his left foot forward, settling into a two-fisted stance.

"It's the only compensation I can offer you for saving those villagers… my companions." By the time he finished speaking, the Oni's fists were already inches from his face. Its speed had clearly surpassed anything Nero had witnessed while fighting it. Yet despite the imminent danger, the elder's voice carried through with immeasurable calm.

"You're a special one, for a mere Oni." Both his fists slammed forward and pressed against the Oni's chest, almost gently.

"Cypher Art, Phantom Path, first form," his fists pushed deeper into the Oni's chest as its eyes widened in horror.

"Spectral Touch." A blue light surged outward from the point of contact between the elder's fists and the Oni's chest. A wail—something ancient—erupted from deep within the monster, as a phantom imitation of itself was spewed from its body.

"Wait, no… that's no imitation!" Nero felt his hands tremble at the realization. The elder had literally ripped the Oni's soul from its body!

"Watch closely, boy. This move buys you time in battle. Depending on your enemy's strength, you could try doing this." The old man's two fingers shot straight for the Oni's eyeballs, aiming to crush them. At the same moment, the Oni's soul snapped back into its body, and it crouched to evade the strike. The elder kicked it in the face, sending it skidding backward from the sheer force.

"Some particularly strong foes can re-enter their body before you do any real damage. Threatening their vessel forces them back faster." He explained, seemingly unconcerned with the monster that had already sprung up and was charging in again. This time, the monster went for a roundhouse kick to the head from a distance. The elder countered with a roundhouse of his own, sending the monster flying back, cracks echoing from its shins. The Oni landed on its feet several meters away.

Its legs buckled, but Nero could already see that familiar lime-green glow knitting its wounds back together. The elder spoke again, seizing his attention, "Now, the first form of the Path of Phantoms lets you resist and stall—using it on several weaker opponents will immobilize them for a while. For the next, more lethal form, I'll show you this move." Nero watched the elder's form like a hawk. The man chanted again, his voice calm, almost soothing.

"Phantom Path, second form, Transparent World." The elder's eyes blazed with white light as he broke into a wild sprint toward the monster. The Oni had just regained its footing, and seeing him approach, it uprooted a tree behind it and hurled it at him, while simultaneously charging forward behind the cover. The elder's instructive voice cut through the assault.

"To enter this form, cycle your inner energy through the veins of your eyes and brain until they grow warm. Simultaneously, infuse your veins alone with mana—or mental energy, if you lack mana." The elder dodged the tree and the countless sharp chunks carried with it as if they weren't even there. Extending his hands, he swiftly seized and pressed ten different points across the Oni's body, then slammed his knee into its face. The Oni's eyes widened to such an extent that Nero felt like they'd pop right out.

And the next moment, like a puppet with its strings cut, the Oni's body crumpled forward lifelessly. The battlefield turned eerily quiet at the fall of the Oni, with only the heaving breaths of Nero and the chirping of birds far away as the only signs of anything living being in the place. The elder looked up at the endlessly dark skies of Evernight for a long moment. Turning back towards Nero, he gave a gentle smile.

He could see sparks of white energy crumbling from the elders frame, while large cracks spread across his torso and up his face. Nero's breathing quickened at the implications of it. The elder only shrugged, "Well, that's it for now. Practice these moves as best you can." He glanced down at the motionless corpse of the lesser Oni.

"And come, consume this creature's Gene. These particular ones fade rather quickly, I'm afraid."