Blood was still dripping... one drop after another, each one falling onto nothingness, creating an echo as if it were tearing through the void itself. Ashen stood on the last step, his skin cracked, his consciousness about to explode, his eyes half-extinguished like dying flames that had burned all their fuel. Behind him, the nine steps he had climbed with his blood through a thousand years of pain looked dim, as if time had drained away their light. Everything had faded... the sounds, the breaths, the heartbeat. Only he remained, and before him, the tenth step—bleeding endlessly, as if it were bleeding from the heart of the world.
Above him, a line of sacred, fiery blood appeared: "A thousand years of pain." Every letter burned his soul; every word pulsed with unbearable majesty.
In the next moment, darkness moved. Then, the void opened—revealing an eye. A single, massive, ancient eye, so old it defied comprehension. It could not only be seen but felt. Its gaze alone shattered his joints, and the blood in his veins boiled like a volcano.
It was the Eye of Heavenly Dao.
It did not speak at first. It did not need to. Its gaze carried meaning—older than language, older than stars, colder than nothingness. Then came the voice. It was not heard but planted directly into the mind, heavy like a law that could not be defied. There was no warmth, no hatred, no mercy—only truth.
"You have reached the end of the path, you who have walked the road of savagery. You endured nine trials meant to break your very existence. Every heartbeat of your blood defied nature itself... and yet, you survived."
A faint silence followed, then the eye added with a tone that belonged to no world:
"You survived. But survival is not the goal here. You stand at the edge of extinction, where names are erased and intentions are born."
Ashen couldn't answer at first. His consciousness hung between disbelief and shock. Then he spoke, his voice cold and lifeless, a voice that had tasted endless pain.
"What... is this final trial? And what does intention truly mean?"
The eye blinked slowly, and the void trembled as if the heavens themselves were stirring.
"Intention, you who walk the path of blood, is not desire, or goal, or sharp thought. Intention is the essence of law itself. Through it, worlds are born—and through it, they are erased. Everything that lives or dies moves through intention. And intention... has levels."
The blood dripping from the step began to gather in the air, forming red symbols that danced around Ashen.
"There are ten levels. Each one is a gate to a greater truth. But the first level is the seed—the line between those who understand and those who rule.
After reaching this level, a seed of intention will form within you. It remains for one year before merging completely with your body and soul. Only then can one say that they have built their foundation in the world of intention."
The blood symbols aligned, turning into three majestic lines of red light, each one vibrating with a different energy.
"The first level is divided into three ranks: Understanding, Perfection, and Absolute."
The tone of the eye did not change—no emotion, no pride, only eternal narration of an unchangeable law.
"Understanding is the first step, where ninety-nine percent of those who touch intention stop. At this stage, one's perception opens—you can see, control, and direct. You can merge intention with your body, your weapon, your soul. You become more than a human who wields power—you become a being who understands power itself.
Take the Intention of the Sword as an example. When one reaches understanding in it, each strike becomes a line that separates concept from matter. The mind reads the flow of energy like reading a text. Techniques that would take ten years can be learned in one month. Your spirit becomes sharp—deadly."
The first symbols melted, reforming into more complex ones, like letters of another law.
"Perfection begins the separation from humanity. To reach it, you must approach madness. Only one true genius of savagery is born into this rank every ten thousand years. In this state, you don't need to hold a sword to cut—your thought alone strikes. Blades are born from awareness and move faster than perception. The entire world becomes a blade that serves your will."
Suddenly, Ashen remembered a time long ago—a person he had met before this hell began. Someone who fit that description. But under the weight of endless trials, the memory was almost gone.
"Ah… who was it?" He tried to recall, but nothing surfaced. "Yes… he used a spear... I remember he gave me something…"
The third blood symbol opened, forming a circle containing a human figure glowing with dark, heavenly light.
"And the Absolute... is legend. It is the void from which existence is born. It cannot be reached by talent or strength—but by torment. Only those who have lived through hell and walked the edge of death in every step can touch it.
The Absolute rank grants a special structure called the Intent Body. This state gives you immense spiritual power and incredible techniques. You become the existence of intention itself—no longer separate from it, but its embodiment."
Ashen remained silent, his chest rising and falling slowly as he tried to absorb what he heard. Then he asked, his voice stripped of all emotion, a voice that had long lost the innocence of youth:
"And these three ranks... can't be reached after the year passes?"
"Correct," the eye replied coldly. "Once the seed of intention forms in your soul, your body and spirit are given one year in real time for it to merge completely. After that, the path to higher ranks is sealed. If you fail to reach Perfection or Absolute within that time, you will remain in Understanding forever."
"One year…" Ashen muttered to himself. "I've already been feeling the savage intent and controlling it for centuries here. It seems I've missed the chance to reach the Absolute rank."
The eye blinked again, and the void shuddered as if reacting to his thoughts.
"You entered this place with your consciousness, not your body. The flow of time here is not the same as in the real world. Outside, only three hundred and sixty days have passed."
Ashen froze. His mind refused to accept it, but his soul knew it was true. All those centuries of agony—just one year outside.
"How can time be twisted like this?" he asked hoarsely.
"By the ancient weapon that brought you here," the eye replied with no emotion. "That weapon is tied to laws from the dawn of creation. It opened this void for you—and bent time around your consciousness."
Ashen remembered the first moment—when he held that phantom dagger and stabbed it into his heart, when it led him to that colossal gate. He remembered how everything around him collapsed. Every cell in his body now trembled with that same feeling. It was as if fate had been shaping his path from the beginning... or perhaps, some greater force had written his destiny.
"So that means…" he said slowly, "the time has ended? The seed of intention has already been born?"
"Yes," came the answer—firm and merciless. "You passed the first test when you began this journey. From that moment, the seed of savage intent was planted in your soul. Now, after a year in the real world, you've reached the end of the limit. Only two choices remain: achieve the impossible and reach the third rank—the Absolute, or be erased from existence."
The blood dripping from the last step suddenly ignited with red light, responding to the words. Every hair on Ashen's body stood on end. His voice carried no anger—only the weight of realization.
"The third rank... Absolute," he said slowly, raising his head toward the colossal eye in the sky. "Does that mean I must become... intention itself?"
"More than that," the eye replied with dreadful calm. "You must become savagery itself—not control it. Those who try to control savagery are devoured by it. Those who dissolve into it... are reborn."
The entire place trembled. The last step bled harder, and the blood rose to the sky instead of falling. It formed a massive vortex, and at its center appeared a reflection of Ashen—but darker, calmer, and more chaotic. It was the embodiment of savage intent.
"The final confrontation awaits you," said the eye. Its tone was like a final decree. "What you will fight now is not a beast or a spirit, but a concept. You will face the very intention you chose. The savagery you sought to understand... will now understand you."
Ashen didn't answer. Everything around him began to collapse. The step split in two, light vanished, and the blood turned into a rising ocean. The sky inverted, and the eye began to dissolve, breaking into shards of black light that scattered across the horizon.
The last thing he heard before sinking into darkness again was her final voice:
"Prepare yourself, you who defied blood and laws. What awaits you is not a battle... but the trial of existence itself."