Rivers of the Night

Theron could almost feel the blood up to the start of his ankles, but it wasn't quite there yet. The resistance had grown even stronger, and it was beginning to feel as though a gravity was going to destroy his feet.

This pressure…

It was too much.

It felt like his soul was about to be minced to pieces, like a vice had been clamped onto him while some vindictive villain constantly turned the handles.

It seemed that he had thought too simply. He couldn't just take forever to pull on one Law after another. If he was too slow, he would be crushed before he could even pull them all out.

Quickly, he communicated with the Law of Concentration. This time, he spent much less time observing the Runes, but he realized the problem with this too almost instantly.

Because he didn't take his time to feel them, to communicate with them, to truly understand them like he had the first two, it was like the connection was muted, and the result was likewise significantly weakened.

The Law of Vibration had given him quite a bit, but the Law of Concentration by comparison was pitiful. Part of that was certainly because going down further was much harder with every inch he took. But the larger cause was himself.

Theron realized that he couldn't hold on anymore.

He grit his teeth, and the frustration he had buried threatened to bubble up again. It felt like there were chains he hadn't placed on himself weighing him down, almost like he was being punished for the crimes of another.

He was unwilling, and every day, it was like he found his temper raging more and more out of control.

Theron knew for a fact that he would never allow these emotions to impact his decision-making. But the discomfort in his chest just wouldn't go away.

He forced the issue.

This was a rational decision. The further he went, the better odds he would have at finding what he was actually looking for: the secrets to his bloodline.

He pulled harder, touching the Law of Reflection.

This was the Law he was the least familiar with, and yet it was also the strongest of them all.

But that was when something peculiar happened.

All of the pressure seemed to vanish, and Theron's ankles were immediately submerged beneath the blood waters with a jerking motion.

A wave of disgust filled Theron's heart.

He lurched, almost throwing up, only to realize that this body didn't even have a hint of a digestive tract in it. It was indeed his soul, or at least a projection of it in some form.

The feeling of disgust was familiar. It was the same feeling he had had when the moon jade tried to forcefully elevate his Resonance to the Runebound.

It felt like he was cheating somehow.

'The plaque.'

Theron's stomach lurched again as he rejected it. At that moment, his soul shattered, the sudden pressure in combination with his seeming unwillingness to take advantage of the plaque's benefits crushing him.

…

**BANG!**

Theron's body seemed to explode, this time even worse than before. The force of the blood projectile vomiting out from his pores was so great that it painted the walls, this time carrying even more impurities along with it.

If the stench was measured and restrained to the rooms before—nothing that an open window couldn't fix—it felt more like now the entire room had to be burned in.

It was no longer just a murder site either. It was practically ground zero of a genocide.

Theron writhed, his body feeling like every muscle fiber had been torn to shreds. He didn't make a sound, but the pain was unlike anything he had experienced in his life, and he was someone that had been through not just one, but two Tribulations that weren't his own—including one that practically unearthed all his blood.

All of that for nothing.

At least that was what it felt like.

In the end, he refused to allow the plaque to do what it was meant to do, and the result was his body being shredded apart without any sort of benefit. Not that Theron was sure there was even a benefit to be gained, or if he wasn't experiencing a benefit right here and now regardless.

It was hard for him to even breathe at the moment, his throat feeling as though razor blades were raking across his vocal cords and windpipe.

And then Theron felt like he was actually dying.

Lying there, looking up at the ceiling painted by his dripping blood, he wondered if it was worth it… for but a moment before he grit his teeth.

**Move.**

He roared the words in his mind, slowly crawling toward the bathroom.

The water of the Imperial Palace was not just normal water. Even if it had been, it would be Theron's saving grace. But how could an Imperial Palace of this caliber, with these sorts of experts, bathe in common waters?

Theron had felt it the first time, and it was a large part of the reason he had recovered so quickly the first time.

This time, he needed it even more.

He left a trail in his wake, not that the mess in the rest of the room helped it be much better. It was like he was leaving his organs behind with every push he made.

Everything blurred around Theron, and he forgot about everything but his scraping hands. His eyes carried a cold sharpness to them, even the pain fading to the background as he pulled one step after another.

And then he made it, the harsh jets of the water practically becoming a soothing melody to him.

Theron's mind collapsed, and he lost consciousness once again, his impurities and blood circling the drain.

Revenge was like a hot coil boiling in the depths of his heart. He didn't care about his foundation, he just needed power. But the cap of this world was too low, and the Seijin were right at that cap.

If he didn't have a foundation he could be proud of… then he would never have his revenge.

And that was unexpected.

His body teetered on the verge of death, but as he slipped into darkness, he didn't spare a single thought toward the possibility of never waking again.

The rage in his heart would never allow that.

He wouldn't die here.