Above The Sky

"No wonder that scum has been getting rougher lately."

His body seemed to instinctively panic, fearing the imminent beating, but Ian inwardly sneered, "Looks like the escape plan has been blown."

"That vile scum is probably waiting to see my despair and confusion when I find the silver coins gone, and taking pleasure from it."

In any case, the plan to flee with the stashed money had been discovered, and one escape route had been cut off.

Moreover, considering the escape plan from the perspective of an adult, Ian could only shake his head.

—In the past, he hadn't thought through where to run to and was even more clueless about the terrain surrounding Harrison Port and the roads of the nearby villages.

Plus, his uncle surely had the help of the Natives familiar with the region; a mere escape was impossible.

Reporting to the Elder of the White Folks was unrealistic as well.

In this ignorant and feudal era, it was normal for parents to hit their children and for uncles to beat nephews. Even killing wouldn't be more than idle gossip without proof of his uncle's collusion with the Natives for sacrificial offerings. If he couldn't get the Elder to apprehend his uncle immediately, he would only be deemed insane.

Without the evidence to arrest him on the spot, it would be like startling the snake in the grass, facing an exposed uncle who would likely kill him then and there.

Even the slightest chance was not acceptable. Who would gamble with their life?

But waiting was not an option either.

Knowing his uncle was aware of his plan to escape with the hidden money, that madman's punishment would surely intensify. It was entirely possible for him to die at the hands of his uncle during a violent outburst that very day.

"At that time, he could simply dump my body in the mountains at any opportunity, claiming I disappeared while frolicking during a trip there—although losing a sister's child would bring shame from the tribe, he doesn't care."

Putting himself in the other's shoes, Ian immediately shook his head.

Ha! It was more than possible; he was practically predicting the future!

He had to come up with another plan, and fast, to solve the crisis.

"I need to find evidence of his collusion with the Natives for the blood sacrifices... but that's too difficult. This cheap uncle is crazy, not stupid; there's no way he'd slip up on something so major."

Contemplating seriously, though the situation was dire, Ian's expression was not one of heaviness.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes and chuckled softly, "Interesting, neither running nor reporting through regular channels will work. Could my only option be to look for an opportunity to ambush and kill him?"

"Very risky, yet I must prepare for it."

Despite some hesitation, Ian was seriously considering the possibility, without the slightest aversion to the thought of 'murder'.

Because of the abuser's nature, he even felt a bit eager.

If he had any aversions, his background check would not have been nearly failed.

Ian's moral threshold, when his core interests were touched, was terrifyingly low, only unnoticeable in his former peaceful society because no one ever touched his interests.

"Come to think of it."

Thinking of the dangerous plan, Ian continued to murmur to himself, a smile forming on his lips as he opened the door, "Are the vital points of people from the Otherworld the same as those of Earthlings? I felt my own bones earlier, the location of the ribs, the heartbeat, and the distribution of the internal organs in the abdomen should all be similar..."

"But I can't be too careless, a fatal strike aimed at a vital spot must not fail, otherwise I'll be the one to die."

He opened the door.

To his surprise, instead of an empty bed he was expecting, Ian saw the peaceful sleeping face of his two-year-old younger brother.

The door creaked, but did not wake the other. The little fellow with short white hair even smacked his lips, pudgy cheeks plump with good health, obviously living a better life than him.

"Why though?" Initially, Ian couldn't understand, but after thinking it through, it made sense; the Natives wouldn't want a gaunt, skin-and-bones offering...

They'd fatten the pig before slaughter!

"He hasn't been sent away yet, so that's good... Maybe there's still some time for me to prepare."

Relieved, Ian shook his head intending to close the door and leave, not wanting to disrupt his brother's sleep.

But just before closing the door, he saw something on his brother's peaceful face that differed from normal 'things'.

Threads of black fog, deep and dark, tinged with the crimson of blood.

The malevolent aura spilled out from above the forehead, circulating ominously.

In line with the "pure sacrifice" deduced earlier, as the prepared sacrificial offering, my younger brother was fulfilling the saying from Ian's former hometown, "A darkened brow foretells a calamity of bloodshed."

"What is this...?"

At this moment, the surreal scene before Ian's eyes caused him to pause in astonishment.

Ian stared blankly at the writhing black and red mist above his brother's forehead, which faintly took the shape of an 'Obsidian Dagger', his eyes widened:"This is almost identical to the style of the Obsidian Dagger that the Natives brought during negotiations with my cheap uncle... Could it be—"

"Uh!?"

In an instant, as if struck by lightning, agony surged through his brain, Ian let out a short whimper, immediately kneeling down, pressing his hands against his skull, his eyes tightly shut, blood flowing from the bandages down his cheeks.

It wasn't just the wound on his head that throbbed with drum-like agony.

Deep within his brain, or perhaps it should be said, an organ belonging to 'Ian' but not part of the Body, was sending out pain intense enough to instantly send an Ordinary person into shock!

It was the trembling of the 'soul', the shiver of the 'will'.

If he were an Ordinary eight-year-old child, his eyes would have rolled back and he would have fainted.

But at this moment, Ian remained unnaturally awake. Stimulated by the overwhelming taste of blood that felt like rust, he endured the burning pain from beginning to end.

In contrast, his eyes conveyed a dead cold serenity, as chilling as ancient glaciers.

The hot agony and icy coldness, two conflicting sensations, as if ready to explode, rendered him temporarily blind—yet in the darkness, Ian saw endless light.

He saw innumerable fireflies emerging from the dark corners, converging, like a river of radiance culminating in the center of his mind into a bright star...

Then it twinkled gently.

"Ah..."

Opening his eyes, within Ian's blue irises, twinkled lights like fireflies.

—The spirit and soul of past and present lives converged as one, igniting a Spark that had never been lit before.

Ian lifted his head, looking around the room.

In an instant, whether it was furniture, beams, windows, or the burlap garments placed on the table, all revealed various shades of 'colors.'

In the whole room, the deepest and brightest colors came from just three sources.

Ian stood up, his gaze firmly fixed on the black and red mist surrounding his brother, then slowly turned his head.

The boy looked toward the bowl on the bedside cabinet, used to hold rice porridge, within it lingered residual pale blue mist.

This blue halo was shimmering, its edges twinkling with faint white light, offering an inexplicable sense of security.

And lastly, himself.

Ian looked at his hands—although it was for a mere moment, before all the Mystical Phenomena disappeared.

But he had seen it, the color on himself.

It was a blackness as deep as ink, seeing no light whatsoever, stirring malevolent forces within the profound darkness, like the heavy clouds before a storm approaches.

Within the sea of fog, one or two streaks of blood-red lightning sundered the mist, the crimson light reflecting ominously in the boy's pupils, terrifying to behold.

After a moment of silence, Ian began to laugh.

"So this is how it is..."

He reached out, wiping the fresh blood from his cheeks and eyes, his voice filled with realization: "This is Spirit Energy."

Ian slowly clenched his fist, letting the mist of Nihility in his palm dissipate: "My Spirit Energy."