Ethan didn’t have time to check his own condition. His body still hummed from the aftermath of battle, but before he could even take a breath, Hayes and the others were already shouting his name in alarm.

"Zatan, what are you doing?"

There was something wrong with their voices. It wasn’t just confusion or anger, but a thick, suffocating terror that made Ethan’s chest tighten even before he understood why. A second later, he felt it too. The air itself had changed. It was saturated with something dense and oppressive, like heat rising from boiling water, except this was blood energy, churning and rolling through the surroundings in violent waves.

His heart lurched as he turned his head.

At the feet of the block-faced brute and the scrawny man lay dozens of array tokens scattered across the ground. Most were crude rune-inscribed stones, though there were also wooden pieces, yellow talisman papers, and even a few fashioned from dried leaves. It was a patchwork construction, cobbled together from whatever scraps could be found in this barren, resource-starved place.

And the blood energy... it was all flowing straight into that array.

From the bodies of the people Ethan had just killed.

The corpses, whether intact or shattered, had all withered down into dry husks, shriveled like mummies. Whatever life remained in them had been completely drained, funneled into the formation without restraint.

The scrawny man was calmly pulling out weapons and armor from a storage device, laying them down one by one. They looked ancient, nothing like modern equipment, each piece carrying a faint, eerie weight.

"Not enough. Kill them all," he said coldly, his expression tightening as he noticed Ethan had stopped attacking and was now staring directly at them.

He was speaking to Zatan.

Zatan didn’t move.

"I said go—"

The scrawny man barely managed three words before a dagger plunged into his chest.

"Should be enough now, right?"

Zatan stood there, his expression unreadable, the dagger buried deep in the man’s body.

The scrawny man’s face twisted with disbelief and resentment. "You—"

"You what?" Zatan’s voice was low, but every word carried years of suppressed hatred. "I’ve waited a long time for this. If it weren’t for you, using that blood-refining art on me before I was even born, would I look like this now? Do you know what it’s like, growing up like this? The stares, the laughter... being treated like a freak. And then having to obey you, listen to you order me around like I was nothing."

He twisted the blade slowly.

"If it weren’t for that spirit-summoning array you kept dangling in front of me, giving me hope... you would’ve died a long time ago."

Blood spilled from the scrawny man’s mouth as he coughed, but instead of despair, a strange grin spread across his face.

"Without my blood-refining art... would you even have such a strong body?" he rasped. "I made you. And besides..." His smile widened unnaturally. "You’re the most important part of this array."

Zatan’s eyes widened. Before he could react, the man’s head slumped to the side, lifeless.

For a brief moment, there was silence, then a voice spoke from behind Zatan.

"But... you were too impatient. You’re still young."

Zatan spun instantly, blood energy erupting from his body as he lashed out, but struck nothing.

A pale, translucent hand appeared out of nowhere and clamped onto his square-shaped head.

"I forgot to tell you," the voice continued calmly. "That body limited me. And physical attacks... don’t work on me."

A ghostly figure materialized behind him, its form faint and white, yet disturbingly solid in presence. The face was handsome, almost refined, completely at odds with the horror of the situation.

"Holy crap, Onyx," Brock muttered weakly from the ground, barely conscious but still somehow talking. "This guy’s even more of a pretty boy than you."

Onyx didn’t even bother responding. He just rolled his eyes and kept his attention locked on the ghost, his expression tense.

The ghost tightened his grip. Zatan froze completely, his eyes filled with shock and rising terror.

"Six hundred years ago, your ancestors abandoned me on this third layer," the ghost said. "But they never considered that I, Yurix, would abandon my body as well. Now, I’ll use the blood of their descendants to awaken the fallen spirits of this battlefield... and they will help me escape this Divine Sea prison."

A dull explosion echoed.

Zatan’s body burst apart into a cloud of blood mist, the energy released far denser than anything Ethan had produced before.

All of it happened in the span of seconds. Zatan killed the scrawny man, and then died just as quickly.

"Yurix... no... him..." Hayes’s voice faltered as realization dawned, her confusion turning into dread. Her expression went blank.

"Ethan, stop him, or we all die here!" Riley rushed to his side, psychic energy surging from her brow. It condensed into a sharp, pink arrow and shot straight toward the ghost.

"Child’s play," Yurix said lazily. "If your grandfather were here, I might have to try a little."

He waved a hand dismissively and the arrow shattered instantly.

Yet something was off.

Yurix’s expression flickered, then twisted into anger. His movements became erratic, his gaze losing focus as if he had suddenly lost his bearings.

"I forgot... you always liked these flashy tricks," he growled.

Riley’s illusion had already taken effect.

"Ethan, I can’t hold him for long!" she called urgently.

"Too late."

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

A pillar of blood-red light suddenly shot into the sky, solid and overwhelming. It struck something unseen above and spread outward, forming a massive dome that covered the entire world in a crimson glow.

A low, mournful wail echoed through the air, like countless spirits crying out at once. The stillness of the third layer shattered as a bitter wind swept across the land.

Riley’s illusion collapsed instantly.

Yurix’s gaze swept across the battlefield, lingering on Ethan, Hayes, and the remaining survivors huddled in fear. With Zatan dead, there was no one left to rely on.

"Go," Ethan said calmly, holding Yurix’s gaze.

Yurix smiled at him, a strange, unsettling smile that sent a chill crawling down his spine.

The ghost didn’t look overwhelmingly powerful at first glance, but something about him made Ethan instinctively wary, like standing before something far more dangerous than it appeared.

"Go," Ethan repeated.

The weapons scattered across the array suddenly rose into the air, each one glowing with a deep, blood-red light.

Then they shot forward.

Ethan grabbed Riley and dodged a streak of red light as it tore past them. Hayes and the others scattered, barely managing to evade the barrage. The weaker survivors weren’t as lucky. Many were struck directly, their bodies instantly reduced to bone.

The weapons didn’t return. Instead, they flew outward, embedding themselves into the ground across the surrounding area.

A low hum spread through the earth and the ground lit up. Then, from beneath the surface, countless figures began to rise.

They were translucent and blood-red, each one holding a weapon identical to those that had just been buried.

"HAHAHA!" Yurix’s laughter rang out, wild and unrestrained. "With the blood of descendants and the weapons you once wielded as vessels, awaken, ancient spirits! You should have risen six hundred years ago. But this time... I am prepared."

More and more spirits appeared, filling the land.

The weapons, the armor, even the rings placed on the array, each served as a medium to summon another.

But these were no benevolent ancestors.

Their auras were chaotic, unstable, filled with rage, brutality, and malice. They stood motionless, staring blankly, yet the hostility radiating from them was overwhelming.

"Come," Yurix said, raising his arms. "I will be your vessel. Merge with me, and your power will return, greater than ever. Surpass the prodigies. Rise above all. I will lead you out of this place that buried you. I will take you home."

The spirits turned toward him.

One by one, they transformed into streaks of red light and poured into his body.

His translucent form began to change, becoming denser, darker, until it shifted into a deep purple hue. He no longer resembled a ghost at all.

A suffocating pressure filled the world.

It felt as if everything had shrunk, leaving only him at the center.

"Trial-taker from Earth," Yurix said, looking down at Ethan with a faint smile. "Your body is quite impressive. I hope it can withstand someone like me."

Purple flames flickered around him.

Ethan understood now. That unsettling feeling from earlier finally made sense. This man’s soul power was on an entirely different level.

No wonder he had smiled before.

"You want to possess me, old man?" Ethan asked calmly, the earlier chill in his chest completely gone.

Yurix’s smile sharpened. "Such a bold mouth. I was planning to be merciful and erase your consciousness quickly. But now... I think I’ll burn your soul for three days and three nights."

He plunged downward, diving straight toward Ethan.

By now, Ethan stood alone. Hayes and the others had already scattered as he ordered. If he fought seriously, he didn’t want them caught in the aftermath.

"Heh."

Ethan smiled.

A lot of people had wanted him dead before. He couldn’t help but wonder what this one would drop.

The fear was gone, replaced by something almost... eager. After all, he was bound to Ethereal now.