Olivier left that afternoon.
After being unconscious for so long, he wanted to go home for a visit. Once he had been home, he planned to set out on his travels again. He had heard that there was a glacial continent in the far north, home to quite a few Saint experts living in seclusion, and he intended to train his way there.
He waved to Loa, then turned into a streak of light and flew south. The light trailed a long tail across the horizon, as though someone had drawn a stroke across the sky with a brush, only for the wind to scatter the ink before it dried.
Loa stood in the doorway, watching that streak of light grow farther and smaller until it finally became a speck and vanished beyond the horizon. Only orange-red sunset clouds remained, like clouds scorched by fire, layer upon layer fading from orange-red to dark red to grayish purple as they slowly sank below the horizon.
Before leaving, Olivier had said something. "The next time we meet, I'll let you experience my new moves." There had been a light in his eyes as he spoke-not the openly sharp light of before, but something deeper and steadier. Like a blade that had been honed and was in no hurry to leave its sheath, waiting for the moment to strike.
Loa had smiled then. "You'd better hurry, then." He sensed that his Spiritual Force had already reached the ninth-level peak. Soon. Very soon.
Once his Spiritual Force reached the Saint Magus level and his soul crystal formed and transformed, his spirit, essence, and Qi would all have reached their limits, and he could begin breaking through to godhood.
He withdrew his gaze, turned, and walked into the Blacksmith Shop.
The Chaotic Territory. It was