RUMBLE.

The sand beneath the Runehammer wreckage began to liquefy.

"Master!" Isabelle shouted, her red eyes flaring as she sensed the vibration.

"Below us!"

She reached out to grab him, but the ground exploded before she could close the distance.

BOOM.

A pillar of muscle and teeth erupted from the sand.

It was an Abyss Ash-Maw Worm, a thirty-foot-long predator blinded by centuries of darkness, hunting solely by vibration.

It had sensed the movement of the compass and the heartbeat of the intruders.

Its maw, lined with rows of serrated obsidian teeth, snapped shut inches from where Damien had been standing.

Damien tumbled backwards, sliding down the shifting dune. He rolled to his feet, coughing up ash.

The Worm screeched, a high-pitched sound that rattled the bones in Damien's chest.

It turned its massive, eyeless head toward him. It could smell the sweet, leaking mana of his Celestial Life Physique.

"I'll crush it!" Isabelle roared. Purple gravity mana began to gather around her fists.

"No!" Damien barked, holding up a hand.

Isabelle froze, the spell dissipating. "But Master, you have no mana!"

"I don't need mana," Damien said, his voice calm amidst the chaos. He drew the dull, grey Pantheon Sword.

"I need to test something "

He looked at the worm.

In the past, he would have blasted it with a spell or reinforced his body with Aura.

Now, he was physically weaker than a common soldier. If the worm hit him, he would die.

But he was a 6th-Order peak human being. And more importantly, he was a Teacher.

A teacher who had taught the protagonist of this story, even if it was for a short while.

And this time, it was time for him to attend class.

'Lesson One,' Damien thought, closing his eyes for a split second.

'See without looking.'

He expanded his Will, not searching for mana signatures but rather he pushed his Intent outward, feeling the displacement of the air, the tension in the worm's muscles, the malicious hunger radiating from its primitive brain.

[Will Arts: Sensory Intent].

Yes, he had decided to classify all his newfound moves as will arts!

The worm lunged.

To Isabelle, it looked like a blur of death. To Damien, it moved in slow motion.

He saw the trajectory. He stepped to the left. A minimal movement, no wasted energy.

WHOOSH.

The massive body of the worm passed him, missing by a hair's breadth. The wind of its passage ruffled his white hair.

As the beast extended itself, exposing its softer underbelly between the armored plates, Damien gripped his sword.

'Lesson Two,' Damien whispered. 'The mind cuts deeper than steel.'

He didn't try to muscle through the cut like before; he poured his Will into the blade. He visualized the concept of Severing.

He rejected the reality where the blade bounced off. He enforced the reality where it cut.

In an instant, his greedy king's intent began to pour into the blade, only this time it had a certain sharpness to it

[Will Arts: Cladding].

The grey crystal blade turned pitch black, swallowed by the density of his Intent.

SLASH.

He swung upward.

There was no sound of metal hitting meat. There was only a hush.

The black blade passed through the worm's thick hide like a hot knife through butter. Just cutting the flesh, but it was cutting the space the flesh occupied.

Black blood sprayed into the grey air.

THUD.

The top half of the Ash-Maw Worm slid off its body. The bottom half thrashed once, convulsing, before collapsing onto the sand.

Damien lowered the sword. The black coating faded instantly, leaving him gasping for air.

His head throbbed. Channelling that much Will was like sprinting a marathon with his brain.

"Target... neutralized," Damien wheezed, wiping black ichor from his cheek.

Isabelle stared at the corpse, then at Damien.

Her mouth hung slightly open. She knew he was strong, but this was different. There was no magic in that strike. Just pure, terrifying dominance.

"You..." Isabelle whispered.

Damien sheathed the sword, trying to hide the tremor in his hand.

"A sharp mind makes a sharp blade," Damien said, channelling his inner Mozart persona.

He checked the compass he had looted. "Now, let's go before its mother shows up."

….......

[Time: Two Days Later]

[Location: The Canyon of Abyss Fungi]

They followed the compass North.

Slowly, the endless grey ash gave way to a landscape of jagged rock formations.

Bioluminescent moss began to appear, clinging to the cliff walls in patches of neon blue and green.

"Heat signatures rising," Damien noted, checking the Runehammer device.

"We're close."

They rounded a massive bend in the canyon, and there it was.

Abysshaven.

It wasn't a city in the human sense. It was a parasitic growth attached to the underside of a massive rock overhang.

Buildings were cobbled together from the ribcages of leviathans, rusted metal plates from ancient machines, and hollowed-out stalactites.

It glowed with the sickly light of mana lamps. It smelled of sulfur, roasted meat, and unwashed bodies.

"Civilisation," Damien muttered. "Or close enough."

They approached the main gate, a makeshift wall constructed from the skulls of Ash-Maw Worms.

Blocking the path were four guards.

They weren't human. They were Drifters if you will.

One looked like an Elf, but his skin was grey, and he had four eyes. Another was a hulking brute with scales and a pincer for a left arm.

They were the descendants of those trapped here, mutated, hardened, and hungry.

"Halt," the Scaled Brute grunted, stepping forward. He held a spear made of bone.

He looked at Isabelle. His eyes widened seeing her horns and the purity of her demonic aura. He bowed his head slightly.

"Halfblood," the guard muttered in disdain.

Then, he looked at Damien.

He saw the pale skin. The lack of visible mana. The human frailty.

The guard licked his lips.

"The Half-Demon passes," the guard grinned, revealing rows of shark-like teeth. "The pet... pays the toll."

Isabelle's hand drifted to her daggers. Her eyes began to glow.

"Pet?" she hissed.

"One arm," the guard negotiated, stepping closer to Damien. "Or maybe a leg. Fresh surface meat is a delicacy, Half-blood. You can spare a limb, can't you?"

Isabelle, hearing this prepared to slaughter them on the spot.

"Izzy," Damien said softly.

He stepped in front of her.

"You want a toll?" Damien asked, looking up at the hulking mutant.

"Flesh or stones, soft-skin," the guard laughed. "Give me your arm, and I won't eat the rest of you."

He reached out his pincer hand to grab Damien's shoulder.

However, Damien, seeing this, didn't react.

Rather, on his right hand, his will slowly began to condense.

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