Chương 28: Chapter 25 – The Storm

The mist swallowed Cade whole. It covered his head and the world dissolved into a formless white cloud. Thick enough that there was no horizon, no sky, and no ground but if he got close enough he could still see his hand in front of his face. His fingers curled tighter around the shell's handle, dragging it behind him as he trudged forward. The tingling sensation that had started at his calves now spread across his entire body. Pins and needles became a slow burn.

The black sludge had begun to slough off in layers—peeling like a snake shedding its skin. Every fleck that fell away revealed raw, new skin beneath. The mist reacted with it like an acid and a balm all at once, searing and soothing in alternating waves. Cade stumbled, nearly fell, but caught himself. He pressed a trembling palm to his chest and forced his legs to keep moving. The thunder overhead had grown louder and deeper. Still, somewhere inside the pressure and pain, his thoughts had cleared.

The fog in his head was no longer as thick as the one around him. Body tempering. He remembered the phrase now. It was from cultivation stories, mythic tales of warriors hardening their bodies to withstand elemental forces, to channel energy, to survive what others could not. He remembered reading about them only a week ago. Has it really only been a week since the System came and changed the world? He remembered the System Entity had said something about manual core formation requiring exceptional body refinement.

Was this what it meant? Was this how people—or beasts—could achieve power without an automatically formed System core? He recalled the recent System notification back into his mind. You have endured the Ashen Baptism. Complete the rite to continue body tempering. He frowned. The ash storm must have been part of the initial rite, triggered when the Ashen Emperor unleashed its fury on the colossal worm. Cade remembered the moment when the Emperor had looked toward him, ever so slightly, just before the ash poured in.

Had it mistaken him for one of its own? Had it meant to baptize him as if he were its kin? That would imply beasts like Aquelion were meant to endure such things. A trial of pain and growth. Maybe all Titled beasts went through something like it at some point. But if the ash was only part one, what was part two? What was he meant to do to complete the rite? He glanced at the sky—or tried to. Above him was nothing but white haze and soundless pressure that made his ears feel as if they were about to pop.

He couldn't see the stars or the moon, but he could still hear the thunder growing closer. The System message said to complete the rite. He had no clue what that meant or what it entailed but he knew that there was no going back to finish what he accidentally started. There was only endless wasteland behind him, if he turned around now he'd surely die. All Cade could do was move forward, the remaining parts of the body tempering would have to wait. As he trudged on, his thirst continued to claw at his throat.

The mist teased him with tiny beads of moisture clinging to his skin, gliding along his jaw, but never enough to drink. And then whispers of raindrops began to fall. They landed in scattered bursts at first, like tiny glass threads striking his arms and shoulders. He exhaled shakily and let the shell clatter to the ground beside him. Rain. Real rain. He lifted his head, arms hanging limp as the drizzle became steady. It wasn't a gentle warm summer shower he remembered from childhood. This was cold.

The kind of rain that sticks to your skin and seeps into your bones. Each drop was small but clung tightly to his body creating a thin wet film. He opened his mouth to drink and nearly gagged as he felt an immediate burn. The rain water felt like needles coated in vinegar and fire. He choked, coughed, staggered back and nearly fell over the shell behind him. His tongue recoiled against the taste—acrid and chemical, like the ash had found its way into the sky. But he couldn't stop.

His thirst egged him on as he opened his mouth again and let more in. His throat screamed, but his desperation overrode the pain. Cade told himself it wasn't the rain that was the problem. His throat was raw, torn open by ash and hunger. It had to be that. Right? Right? He spat the first mouthful out, washing the filth from his gums and tongue. He cupped his hands together, caught more rainwater, and drank greedily. It hurt but helped at the same time.

The cold water coursed through him, and for a moment—just a moment—he felt alive again. Until the shivers hit. Violent, uncontrollable shivers shook his frame. He was so thin and stripped of warmth that even the bit of cold water he was able to swallow had lowered his body temperature. His body wasn't built for this—not anymore with his lack of muscle and fat. The clouds above pulsed with strange colored light that flickered in the mist. Lightning in violet, gold, jade, and crimson split the sky.

Cade stared upward, stunned, until a sudden clarity struck him. He was the only thing standing for miles. There were no trees or hills or dunes around, at least none that he could see before the mist took over the landscape. Standing here meant that he was the tallest thing around, a rod for the rapidly growing lightning above. Panic punched through the cold. Cade hurled himself to the ground, pressing flat against the muddy surface, hands out in front of him.

He turned and crawled, clawing his way to the shell, dragging his shaking form across the rain-slicked ground. The shell loomed just in front of him. Cold rain pelted his back in waves—no longer needle-fine but broad, brutal sheets of water that slapped against his skin. The rain wasn't falling now—it was hammering, hurled down in sheets so thick it sounded like the sky was splitting open and an ocean was falling out.

The droplets were massive now, wide as his fist, and pelted his raw, uncovered skin with unreasonable force. He reached the shell and pulled himself beneath. He curled up tight beneath it, hugging his limbs close. The wind shifted, catching the curved lip like a sail.

"Shit—no you don't," he muttered, teeth clacking from the cold. He gripped the inner handle as tight as he could with numb fingers, pulling the edge of the shell into the mud below to anchor it. The wind howled, dragging curtains of rain sideways. The ground beneath him had softened—compact white stone turned to mud. Thick, clinging mud that sucked at his knees and elbows, filled the shell's base, and squelched beneath his trembling limbs. He could barely hear anything now over the roar of wind, water, and thunder.

Then— A flash. The entire world went white. BOOM. A single, cavernous blast shattered through the air. Lightning struck down and tore through the shell like a divine hammer. Cade, still gripping the handle, took the full brunt of the current. The world jolted. His back arched involuntarily. His muscles seized, then relaxed all at once. Light exploded behind his eyes. His vision whited out entirely. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

And then came the afterglow—a searing tingle that didn't burn so much as blossomed. Energy. Electricity flowed through every pore, lighting up the faint, hollow paths carved into his body by the ash—channels he hadn't even known existed. The current filled them. Flooded them. Charged them like arteries of raw lightning. Sparks leapt off his skin. Pale white arcs snapped between the shell and the air. His body sizzled, and he smelled his own skin—not burning, exactly but close.

Even though his heart was hammering and his vision was flickering, he strangely felt better than before.

"What… the… hell…" he said between gasps, every muscle twitching. His brain finally caught up, and a thought bubbled up, wild and reckless. Was that supposed to happen? Was the lightning part of it? The next stage of body tempering? No System message confirmed his theory. No notification appeared. But somehow Cade knew—he knew. Deep down, something in him whispered: This is the path I need to take. Complete the rite. That's what the message had said. This had to be it.

His body was buzzing now, like static had taken root inside him. Not just pain—power. His thoughts sharpened. The haze that had been dragging at his mind for hours suddenly lifted, wiped clean by the surge of current. The ash had hollowed him out, carved new trails in flesh and bone. And now the lightning filled them. He stared down at his hands. They trembled, but not with weakness or from the cold. They trembled with anticipation of what was next.

Cade grit his teeth and pushed himself forward, out from under the shell. Rain battered him immediately. It was so thick now it felt like drowning on land. His skin screamed with the cold but something deeper in him welcomed the punishment. He crawled through the rain-slick mud and then—using every shred of energy left in him—he climbed up onto the top of the shell. The wind tore at him, whipping his wet hair across his face, but he stayed steady. He rose onto his knees.

Then, with a breath that felt like it could've been his last, he stood. Naked. Shivering. Alive. He threw his arms out wide. His fingers spread to the heavens.

"Strike me again," he commanded. As if in answer, the sky tore open. A jagged bolt of crimson red lightning cracked through the cloud cover and slammed into him with the force of a falling god. It struck him dead-center, chest-first, and he swore he felt the impact resonate in his bones. It poured into him. Poured through him. Into the shell and out through the ground below. Cade screamed—not from pain, but from a release of something deeper. A euphoric, primal roar that turned his voice hoarse.

He could feel the energy inside of him, reshaping his body, and he wanted more. The red bolt faded, but Cade didn't even have time to gasp before the next one came. A streak of thick molten orange ripped downward, splitting the clouds like a wound in the sky. The orange current rippled through him, illuminating every channel carved through his flesh by the ash. They glowed beneath his skin like molten rivers.

His arms snapped rigid, his back arched, but he stayed on his feet—barely—knees trembling atop the slick shell. Then came yellow lightning, sharp, precise, and surgical. It shot down his spine, branching into his limbs, electrifying nerve endings he didn't know still worked. Cade screamed again—this time, half in pain, half in sheer disbelief that his body could even withstand being struck by lightning once, let alone multiple times back to back. He staggered, but he didn't fall.

The cracks of each strike echoed into the storm, swallowed instantly by the roar of thunder. Every bolt was different—its own flavor, its own emotion, its own violence, seeking and striking at different parts of his anatomy. And every time one hit him, the same instinct rose within him: More. He hadn't expected that. After the ash, after the horror of being corroded and carved from the inside, he couldn't imagine wanting anything intense ever again.

But this—this torrent of raw energy—felt like it was completing something the ash had begun. As if his body, stripped down to its barest framework, had been waiting for something to fill it. The green lightning descended next. A thick, verdant bolt struck him and spread outward instead of driving straight through. Cade gasped as it soaked into his flesh, sinking deep, heavy and nourishing in a way the others hadn't been.

It wrapped around his organs, threaded through muscle and bone, and seeped into the cracked places left behind by ash. The pain dulled, not gone but steadied, transformed into a deep pressure that felt like roots forcing their way through stone. His heartbeat evened out. His lungs drew breath more easily.

For the first time since the storm began, his body didn't feel like it was on the verge of tearing itself apart—it felt anchored, reinforced, as if something fundamental had been stabilized so it could endure what came next. He threw his hands upward again, palms open wide. Hit me! The sky obliged. The next bolt didn't flash downward—it poured. A wide column of deep cobalt blue cascaded from the thunderhead, enveloping him and the entire dome beneath his feet.

It swallowed his body whole, turning him into a silhouette cut from blue fire. This one was different. It lasted longer as the electricity dug its way inside. Cade clenched his jaw hard enough that his teeth ached—but he didn't break. The cobalt lightning wasn't just channeling into him; it was exploding outward from him. Tiny tendrils of blue electricity wriggled from every pore, shooting outward in brilliant fractal bursts. Each one vaporizing the last stubborn clumps of black sludge still clinging to his skin.

His face, his neck, his chest—all clean. New and raw. Something inside him shuddered, and a System notification flickered at the edge of his vision. He ignored it. If he looked now, even for a heartbeat, he'd break the flow of whatever was happening. Somehow he knew that. He didn't know how he knew—but he felt it deep in his buzzing bones.

So he let the blue current rip through him, let it blaze along the channels carved by the ash, let it fill him until his vision went white and his skin sparked like he was becoming a piece of the storm. Slowly the cobalt faded. Cade stood there trembling, swaying on shaking legs, his breath ragged and hot in the cold rain. And for the first time in days, he laughed. He actually laughed—a wild primal laugh that came from the very center of his being. He felt good. Despite everything.

Despite the hunger, the cold, and the exposure. Despite the pain still lingering in his joints. Despite the weakness still clinging to his limbs. Something inside him was satisfied. He felt stretched to a new limit and thrummed with energy. He lowered his arms and let himself fall into a sitting position atop the shell, cross‑legged like some lunatic monk waiting for enlightenment via natural disaster. The rain continued to pound down, but Cade barely felt it as his body hummed with the afterglow. This was it.

This is what his body needed and he didn't need any more, didn't want anymore. He could feel the truth of it just as surely as he could feel the rain. The body tempering was complete. He closed his eyes, ready to slide off the shell and crawl back under it before the storm decided to throw anything else at— The sky growled. A new sound—not the rolling thunder from before. Something deeper. Heavier. The air pressure around him changed, pulled upward as if the sky itself were inhaling. Cade opened his eyes.

Above him, the clouds churned with sudden, violent purpose. A knot of storm-wind spiraled together, tightening, brightening. Every bolt of lightning he had seen earlier had been colorful, varied, but this one was different. The cloud pulsed. A massive vein of deep violet light spread across its underbelly, like the sky was cracking open. He didn't even have time for another thought as the purple lightning fell.

It wasn't a singular bolt but rather a column of amethyst fire three times wider than the shell, crashing down with the force of a meteor. It swallowed Cade whole before he could even take a breath. This time, the energy didn't flow with him and harmonize with his body. This energy fought to invade every cell simultaneously. His newly filled channels lit up and the violet lightning slammed into them like a sledgehammer. His cells, swollen with energy from the previous strikes, tried to push back.

To reject the new energy forcing its way inside. They failed as the purple lightning demanded space. Pain ripped through him—pure, perfect, and overwhelming. Not the cutting invasion of the ash, not the invigorating thrust of the earlier lightning. This was annihilation. This was too much for him to handle. Cade screamed, mouth locked open but no sound escaping. His back arched so hard he thought his spine would snap. His fingers curled like claws. His vision was blinded by the intense light all around him.

Every organ, every muscle fiber, every bone felt like molten metal was being forced through it. His new channels ruptured as the lightning tore into him. His heart missed a beat—two—then slammed hard enough to bruise his ribs. His consciousness flickered like a candle in a hurricane. He couldn't take this one and he knew it. He'd pushed too far. Wanted too much. This was the end. And then the purple lightning stopped. Just as quick as it came the beam snapped off, leaving silence.

The rain hissed and steamed around him. Cade collapsed forward, body limp, barely conscious. Smoke curled upward from his skin. He lifted a trembling hand and stared. His flesh was blackened and charred, barely holding together. He didn't have the strength to climb down. Instead, he tilted—and fell off the shell entirely, landing in the mud with a thick, wet slap that sent a shock through what remained of his nerves.

He groaned and crawled as he dragged his naked skeletal form back under the shell, under the only shelter he had out here. The world spun. His breath came shallow. Every inch of him screamed. He was sure the storm would hit him again, finish him off, but nothing came. He sat there and listened to the rain pound on the shell overhead before finally pulling up the System notification he ignored before. DING! Ashen Baptism body tempering has been interrupted by the Rite of Lightning. Unique body tempering detected.

Assessing…