Three months passed, and by then Kael's name had already carved itself into every corner of the Primordial Chaos World—spoken with awe, resentment, fear, and a grudging respect. He hadn't tried to be a legend; he simply moved the way he always had: direct, reckless, unrestrained. Entire elemental clans would suddenly find their mineral vaults emptied, their treasured flame-crystals gone, their frost cores harvested clean, their lightning ore stripped to the bone. Whenever he appeared, mines full of Compound-X, spirit-stones, or any rare power-ore would mysteriously become nothing more than echoing caverns and frightened rumors. Some called him a thief. Some called him a calamity. Some claimed he was a wandering disaster spirit. But rumors didn't matter. He just did what he came to do—take what he needed and keep moving.

But Kael wasn't doing all that for fun or destruction. No matter how chaotic his path looked from the outside, every move he made was sharpened by purpose. After living seven hundred years as nothing more than a weak, helpless observer—a background character in his own life—he had learned something deeply valuable: power isn't only about how much you have. It's about how efficiently you can use what you have. While others chased raw quantity, piling energy like mountains, Kael honed his power into refined precision. He pushed technique, movement, rhythm, timing, awareness—every nuance of battle that others ignored. Others saw battle as collisions of strength. Kael saw it as geometry, momentum, and opportunity. He didn't need more power. He just needed to use his existing power better than anyone else.

The result was terrifying. His strength did not grow in amount, but in quality. Every strike, every dash, every flicker of speedforce carried the weight of refinement layered over centuries of life experience. A weaker Kael would have needed a hundred blows to kill an enemy. This Kael needed one. Where others relied on overwhelming force, he relied on efficiency sharpened to lethality. His steps left no wasted movement. His energy left no excess flow. Every action ended exactly where it should—and always at the opponent's weakest opening. And this precise, surgical evolution made him far deadlier than those who built their power like a fortress. Because Kael didn't defend. He didn't clash. He ended.

At the same time, back on Earth, Samantha's progress moved with a strange, almost frightening momentum. Using the cultivation method Kael had shown her—the one that worked by refining energy with balanced cycles rather than brute force—she had just broken through to the mid-stage of the Initiate Realm. But what made her terrifying wasn't the realm she was in, but how she understood it. Her comprehension ability was razor-sharp, instinctive, almost predatory. While most would need years of trial and meditation to control their new strength, Samantha adapted in mere days. By current estimation, she could kill someone in the early Adept Realm, even though she had no mentor actively guiding her now, only memory and intuition as her teachers.

She stood on the cracked edge of an earthquake zone, where the ground had split into jagged scars running deep into the earth's mantle. Buildings were tilted, some collapsed entirely, and dust hung heavy in the air like ash from an invisible fire. Sirens wailed faintly from distant emergency teams, but Samantha didn't move toward safety like everyone else. She watched. Observed. She didn't rush into the destruction, not because she was afraid, but because she understood something Kael once hinted: real comprehension is born from watching the world move, not forcing yourself into motion. Real-world chaos, natural destruction, shifting tectonic forces—this was a living demonstration of earth-elemental flow, the type she would never encounter in the Primordial Chaos World where everything was exaggerated to extremes.

From afar, she watched the land tremble, inhale, and settle again. She paid attention to the patterns—the rhythm of collapse, the way pressure built before the earth shifted, the cracks forming in branching networks like veins. Her senses, strengthened by her new cultivation, picked up subtle vibrations beneath her feet—deep rumbles, shifting plates, circulating heat, and ancient pressure. She wasn't just looking. She was studying the Earth itself. Slow, patient comprehension fused with the instinctive ferocity she had gained in the Chaos World. Little by little, her aura grew sharper, not like flame or frost or lightning—but like stone pressure slowly condensing into a diamond. She stood alone in a disaster zone, yet nothing about her felt frightened or overwhelmed.

She looked like someone who had begun to understand the world on a level most could never reach.

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