Chapter 24: Supreme Power

The cold wind lifted a corner of the tent curtain, revealing delicate snowflakes drifting to the ground and a faintly glowing sky. Dawn was approaching, yet the sounds of fighting could still be heard in the distance. Here, the scent of werewolves and the smell of oil used to maintain weapons… It was easy for Neo to deduce that this was the temporary camp of the West Wind Berserkers.

“This is safe—for now.” Sitting cross-legged and dismissing distractions, Neo skillfully entered a state of meditation.

He used the Star Meditation Method. This was not some rare or profound technique. Like many ancient knowledge systems no longer suited the needs of the new era and new ideas, the Star Meditation Method had gradually been replaced by the Void Meditation Method and the Concentration Method. Neo had chosen it mainly because of its low cost. For a 12-year-old slave gladiator, one dinar was something he had to borrow just to obtain, and among the spells taught by mages, few were available at such a low price, even if handwritten.

While others meditated to increase the quantity and quality of their mental energy, Neo did it to cure his illness. Since his 12th birthday, he had suffered from headaches. A half-baked shaman had said it was a blood-related disorder, a mental imbalance.

It was a complicated situation, as such an illness often indicated potential for magic. Even if a caster could only use low-level spells, it would greatly increase their value—especially for slave owners who valued things in monetary terms. Imagine: introducing a werewolf who could cast spells in the arena—what a fantastic gimmick!

Of course, it turned out to be nothing but disappointment. Dark werewolves were indeed intelligent among werewolves, but the probability of producing a super-intelligent one every few hundred years was extremely low. The werewolf mage who amazed the world was less than 100 years ahead of Neo’s time.

Neo proved to have the same poor affinity for elements as his fellow werewolves. A weak elemental affinity meant a death sentence for a magical career. The slave owners were naturally disappointed—unable to cast spells yet suffering from what appeared to be a magical disorder; what use was such a person? That’s how the deal came about: Neo became a servant in Lord Manmores’ household, thus avoiding death in the cruel and endless bloody battles.

Neo never imagined he could become a mage, but he still practiced meditation because it helped organize his mental energy. The Star Meditation Method focused on quality, which suited Neo’s needs—once his mental energy became controllable, disorders would no longer occur. It was then that Neo was forced to develop habits of diligent study and hard thinking. Looking back, even the smallest things carried profound philosophical meaning.

This time, Neo meditated not to organize his mental energy but to examine the changes in the forces within his body. He remembered clearly what had happened before he lost consciousness: massive amounts of dark evil energy had flooded into his body, corroding his armor, yet he hadn’t died.

That alone was enough reason for him to thoroughly investigate his own body. What was wrong with him? What secrets lay hidden beneath his appearance that could cause such demonic phenomena? Understanding himself was as important for Neo as understanding the outside world.

The results of the investigation left Neo feeling mixed emotions. On the positive side, it seemed that the dark evil energy had changed after entering his body—it not only failed to cause harm but also sorted out his meridians and blood vessels. Some of the hidden injuries he had sustained from improper training and battles in his early years had all healed, despite these being ailments even the “Wolf Bloodline” could not restore. In other words, the effect of this dark evil energy was comparable to that of the Intermediate Sacred Healing Art of the Church of Light. Even without considering faith, the value in gold coins alone amounted to 500 dinars, a sum that was a luxury even for ordinary nobles.

Healing these hidden injuries also strengthened his physique to some extent, as evidenced by increased cell vitality. To be honest, this made Neo feel a bit bewildered. Everyone knew the effects of dark energy on things, and what happened to him was akin to seeing countless pear blossoms bloom in a land corrupted by undead. Well! Let’s consider it a very special coincidence. So, where did that energy go? His extraordinary calculation and control abilities made him highly sensitive to “quantity.” He could determine the strength and amount of the force that had surged into his body. Without exaggeration, it was a massive force capable of blowing up every cell in his body. He didn’t believe he had spent over ten seconds unconscious acting like a fire-breathing woman and released all that excess energy, because it hadn’t gone through his organs but rather through his blood vessels and meridians.

After thorough investigation, he found nothing, but he did make some detailed discoveries: his mental strength limit had increased. Dantestine, one of the Twelve Demons, had cast a Soul Curse on Neo. Since this spell failed to kill him, it couldn’t trigger the “Demon Transformation” effect, but the effect of “Dark Tides” remained. It affected not only his body but also his soul, so Neo had to endure the increasingly regular “Dark Tides,” which drained both his physical strength and mental energy. An increase in mental strength was clearly a good thing for Neo at this point.

What worried Neo, however, was that before, people had called him a “rebel” and a “degenerate,” and he could have confidently refuted those accusations. Now, he couldn’t anymore. After his body was exposed to the dark evil energy, it inevitably accumulated darkness, just like those dark worshippers who believed in demons and used dark evil energy. At this critical moment, it felt as if he had mud in his pants.

Waking up from his meditative state, Neo quickly packed his belongings and left the tent. The clothes he was wearing were replacements he had prepared while staying at the stingy Maesser’s house. Neo guessed that his original clothes must have been corroded into fragments while he was under the influence of the dark evil energy, and they were replaced by the people who carried him out.

Neo now believed the wisest thing he had done was hide the Kalonper Thought Crystal and the Energy Core somewhere in Solis City while searching for materials to make a snow sled. Those two items were too eye-catching. Even by pretending to be an ordinary citizen, he couldn’t avoid searches and identity checks at this time. He couldn’t risk carrying such things around.

“Hey, little guy, you’ve got a tough life! Our boss said that once you wake up, we’ll take you to see him. Come with me!” The speaker was a Werewolf of the West Wind Warriors, one who remained in wolf form at all times—this wasn’t just a habit but also a sign of strength, unlike Neo, for whom transforming into a wolf required certain triggers.

The main tent of the West Wind Warriors was simpler than Neo had imagined, with a rugged and wild style in its structure. Yet the tightly woven coverings and various items like stakes and cables showed that its owner was somewhat aligned with modern civilization. To Neo, this tent symbolized the West Wind Warriors: wild wolves like Vidennis who enjoyed the conveniences of civilization while also being trapped by its constraints.

A brazier on a rough wooden frame kept the tent warm, filled with the pungent smell of beech wood. It was inevitable—no one could expect the hastily arrived West Wind Warriors to bring enough pine or fir wood to improve the air quality inside the tent.

There was a thick table covered with maps, measuring tools, and items belonging to Neo—corroded armor and a black iron sword with obvious melting effects.

“Neo, a sword fighter, servant of the Manmoris family, a rebel, a degenerate. You were supposed to be beheaded in public yesterday at noon, but the devils came, and you survived.”

If this man were the leader of the West Wind Warriors, it would truly surprise Neo, as he looked to be around twenty-three or twenty-four years old. In his human form, even by the strict standards of the elves, he could be considered a tall and strong handsome man.

Although Neo couldn’t estimate his strength due to the grade difference, according to the general standards of the Fray Alliance’s army commanders, he must be a warrior above level 12. Compared to him, Neo, who had trained tirelessly through spring, summer, autumn, and winter, seemed extremely old—levels 3 to 12 were not an insurmountable gap, but it certainly wouldn’t be covered in four or five years, or even double that time. The thresholds between levels 5 and 10 had already stopped countless people from pursuing their dreams of becoming heroes. Level 12 was so far beyond that Neo even dared not think about it.

“I’m neither a rebel nor a degenerate,” Neo replied loudly and without fear after bowing respectfully to the other man.

The handsome man smiled. “How can you prove it? Just because you killed a few Dark Cultists? Who knows if that wasn’t a feint?”

“Using the lives of a few Dark Cultists and even elite ones to prove the innocence of a level 3 warrior—especially one who was a death row inmate, one known to many through public execution. If I were a devil, I’d say: This idea is truly brilliant. Let those who disguise themselves as ordinary humans or chivalrous heroes go to hell. We need someone as distinctive and striking to handle such tasks.”

“Heh! Resentment! Control your resentment!” The handsome man stared at Neo as if looking at an interesting monkey.

Nio said calmly, “I’m very sorry. I admit I lost control of my emotions. After all, being framed with the most shameful charges and having my head cut off in public is truly infuriating.”
“You haven’t mentioned the even more frustrating thing—being hunted across the city by those evil fire puppets,” the handsome man continued to laugh carefreely, as if everything happening to Nio was already under his control.
“That’s not much of a problem,” Nio replied, his gaze sharpening. “The demons think we wolves are their dogs, meant to obey their will from birth, but we are wolves! We were born of this world and will return to it in the end. What we believe in is freedom, this very world. Even the greatest gods cannot stand above it. Freedom—supreme, natural, supreme!”
The handsome man could clearly sense the oath-like sincerity in Nio’s words. He could even sense a special, subtle light, as if originating from beyond nothingness, gathering around Nio as he spoke his heartfelt words—the power of faith, the favor of nature. It was still weak now, but if this faith remained firm and endured trials, it would eventually grow into a force no weaker than the forces that constitute the world’s fundamental elements!
Volume 2: The Burning Heart