The Shadow-Wrought Valley had become Blake's entire world. For three months, the cycle remained unbroken: hunt, kill, consume, and endure the crushing weight of the Gravity Seal. His tattered tunic had long since been discarded, leaving him clad in nothing but rough trousers fashioned from beast-hide. His physique had transformed; he was no longer the slender, elegant youth of the Sterling Manor. His muscles were now dense, compact slabs of iron-like fiber, and his skin had taken on a faint, metallic sheen—the hallmark of a fully tempered Steel-Skin at the 3rd Layer.
Malachi stood at the edge of a frozen lake in the center of the valley, the blue runes on his face glowing with a cold intensity. "Three months. Most would have begged for death after the first week. But you, Blake... you have a hunger that exceeds your heritage."
Blake stood ten paces away. He was currently under the Triple-Weight of the Gravity Seal, yet he stood as straight as a spear. He wasn't using the Divine Reaper; the emerald spirit remained dormant within his spirit gate, silent and watchful.
"The weight is becoming light," Blake said, his voice deeper, more grounded.
"Is it?" Malachi smiled thinly. He snapped his fingers, and a wave of runic pressure slammed into Blake. "The 3rd Layer is the limit of the 'Common' path. To reach the 4th Layer—the Internal Tempering—you must do more than just survive. You must refine the very marrow that the Sterlings tried to steal."
Malachi pointed to the center of the frozen lake. "The water beneath that ice is fed by a Void-Spring. It is liquid cold, capable of freezing a man's blood in heartbeats. You will submerge yourself. You will stay beneath the ice until your internal temperature matches the spring. Only then will your Void-Blood truly awaken."
Blake didn't hesitate. He walked onto the ice, his heavy footsteps cracking the surface. He reached the center, took a single breath, and plunged into the black water.
The cold was unlike anything he had ever felt. It wasn't just a temperature; it was an erasure. It felt as if millions of microscopic needles were piercing every pore of his Steel-Skin, trying to reach his core. His heart rate slowed. His vision blurred.
[System Warning: Extreme Hypothermia detected.]
[Vital signs dropping. Internal energy stagnating.]
Shut up, Blake thought at the system. Focus on the marrow.
He sank to the bottom of the spring, sitting cross-legged on the silt. The Gravity Seal pulled him down, ensuring he couldn't float even if he wanted to. He closed his eyes and looked inward. In the darkness of his spirit, he saw the tiny, pulsing spark of the Voidheart Pearl.
He began to pull. Not with his Battle Spirit, but with his own willpower. He dragged the cold of the spring into his meridians, using the freezing energy as a whetstone to sharpen his internal force.
Hours passed. The ice above him resealed, trapping him in a watery tomb.
Suddenly, the spark in his chest flared. The Void-Blood, thickened by the Gravity Seal and chilled by the spring, began to circulate at a furious pace. It wasn't just blood anymore; it was a dark, viscous nectar.
CRACK.
A sound resonated from within his bones. The 4th Layer—Bone Marrow Tempering—was finally being achieved, but not through external essences. He was forging it through sheer environmental pressure.
[Breakthrough! Host has reached the 4th Layer of Flesh Tempering.]
[Special Attribute Unlocked: Void-Internalization.]
Blake's eyes snapped open under the water. They weren't just emerald now; a ring of deep obsidian had formed around the iris. He stood up on the lakebed and struck upward with his bare hand.
The ice, three feet thick, shattered into a million diamonds. Blake erupted from the water, landing on the shore in front of Malachi. Steam rose from his body as the internal heat of his new cultivation met the frigid air.
"The internal and external are one," Blake said, looking at his hands. He felt a terrifying sense of solidity. He could feel the weight of his own bones, each one as dense as spirit-iron.
"Well done," Malachi said. "But the world hasn't stopped turning while you were in the dark. The Sterling Clan has finalized the alliance with the Hawthornes. The wedding between Jazmin and Garrett is set for the mid-winter solstice. That's ten days from now."
Blake's aura flared, the grass around his feet turning to ash. "Ten days."
"The City Lord has placed a bounty on your head that could buy a small province," Malachi continued, watching Blake's reaction. "They've labeled you a 'Corrupted Apostle.' If you go back, you won't just be fighting guards. You'll be fighting the entire city's martial order."
"Let them come," Blake said. He reached down and slowly slid the Gravity Seal off his finger.
The moment the ring left his skin, the ground beneath his feet shattered. Without the weight, Blake's presence was overwhelming. He felt light—dangerously light. He moved his arm in a simple punch, and the air cracked like a whip, a shockwave toppling a nearby tree.
"I don't need the Gale," Blake whispered. "I am the Storm."
He looked at Malachi. "I'm going back. Not as a Harrison, and not as a disciple. I'm going back to collect the debt."
Malachi nodded, reaching into his cloak and pulling out a bundle wrapped in black silk. He handed it to Blake. "A Reaper needs a tool. Not a spirit tool, but a physical one. This was forged from the same star-iron as the Gate you saw in your spirit."
Blake unwrapped the silk. Inside lay a heavy, matte-black scythe handle, six feet long, with a folding blade that shimmered with an oily, dark luster. It was heavy—nearly three hundred pounds—but in Blake's 4th-layer grip, it felt like a feather.
"Its name is Silence," Malachi said. "Make sure the Sterlings hear it."
Blake gripped the handle, and for the first time in months, he summoned the Divine Reaper. The emerald spirit manifested, but it didn't tower over him. It shrank, its essence flowing into the physical scythe until the blade glowed with a faint, ghostly green light.
The physical and the spiritual had merged.
"I'm leaving," Blake said, turning toward the southern horizon where the peaks of the Azure Vault Mountains stood like jagged teeth.
"One last thing, Blake," Malachi called out as the boy began to walk. "Jazmin Sterling isn't the girl you remember. The 'Purification' Silas put her through... it changed her. Don't expect a human heart beneath that crimson silk."
Blake didn't look back. "I'm not bringing a human heart either."
With a single step, Blake vanished into the mist. He wasn't running; he was flickering. His 4th-layer speed, combined with his Void-Refined muscles, allowed him to cross miles in minutes.