Sword Demon, Empress, Silver Lamp

Shining Star's warm light spilled over Gala City, cut into a whole block by the villa window, shining on Ash like pudding.

Ash slowly opened his eyes. He sat in bed in a daze for a while, picked up the kettle on the nightstand, poured half a glass of water, then lifted the cup and took half a sip. The trembling cup splashed droplets onto his face.

The cup wasn't trembling. His hand was.

"I'm still alive..." Ash let out a long breath of stale air, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and lay back on the bed. "I survived..."

When he recalled the first night on Ruby Mountain, Ash still felt lingering fear.

No one had expected a Blood Art Legend to suddenly appear while the three of them were in the middle of internal strife.

The instant the gun barrel aimed at him, Ash felt as if he had turned back into a weak mortal. A shudder from the depths of his soul paralyzed every nerve in his body. He lost all strength, and even his life seemed to flee his shell in a rush along with his blood. Overwhelming darkness drowned him, as if the entire world were leaving him behind.

This was death.

Pain was only the tactile sensation of death; loss was the essence of death.

So arcanists were fortunate. Even if an arcanist lost everything, they still had the Void Realm as their one and only final destination.

It was also then that Ash realized the gap between himself and a true legend. Faced with a legendary killing move, he couldn't even react. The most absurd part was that he was clearly only a Soul Body, yet he had still somehow condensed a physical body for a brief moment, only to be completely