Cosmic Crucible

Chapter 4: Flesh Forging Essence

Lucien Vance ducked low, scrambling backward a dozen meters in a shower of debris as the factory collapsed behind him.

The young man hovered in the air, his gaze icy and imperious. "A native of this backwater planet, I presume?"

Lucien’s expression tightened. A Skyforger!

"I asked you a question. Are you deaf?" the youth snapped, slashing his blade casually through the air. A visible wave of force split the earth, hurling dust skyward.

"Are you from the stars?" Lucien countered, his voice grim.

The youth sneered, landing lightly. He glanced at his Wrist-Terminal. "Combat rating… eight? Trash. Wait—no one at eight could dodge my strike." His eyes narrowed, studying Lucien with sudden interest. "Do you cultivate your physical form?"

Lucien frowned. "You are alien."

The youth’s lip curled. "You natives may call us that. We prefer ‘Ascendants’."

"Ascendants?" Lucien echoed.

"Your pathetic world has long been under the watch of the Great Yu Imperium," the youth declared, looking down his nose. "You are cattle in a pen. We are the Ascendants. Enough. Tell me—have you cultivated your body, reaching at least the Apprentice Tier, perhaps even nearing the Scout Tier?"

"I don’t understand your terms," Lucien replied flatly.

The youth’s eyes narrowed further. Of course not. How could a native know our classifications?

Cold light glinted in his eyes as he fixed them on Lucien. "Attack me. Let me gauge your true strength."

Lucien flexed his fists. "You’re certain?"

The youth laughed coldly. "I, Yasta, could never be wounded by filth like you. Even if you conceal your rating, you cannot be Scout Tier. And even if you were…" He drew his shortsword with a metallic shing. "…the gulf between us is despair itself. I’ll show you true power."

Lucien drew his iron rod. "Very well."

Yasta smirked, beckoning mockingly.

In the next instant, Lucien exploded forward. The bladed tip of his rod sliced the air, aimed precisely at Yasta’s throat.

Yasta sidestepped effortlessly, hands still tucked in his pockets. "Planetary evolution does breed savages," he taunted. "Ruthless, decisive attacks. Straight for the kill. Good. That’s how you forge warriors of iron."

Lucien pressed, his rod a blur, sealing escape routes. Each strike generated cutting shockwaves that scarred the earth.

Yasta remained untroubled. As Lucien’s blade descended, he simply raised a booted foot, catching the edge squarely. His hands stayed pocketed. "Combat rating three hundred and two. Impressive. Reaching Apprentice Tier through ​body cultivation​ alone is rare. Even Scout Tier cadets at my Academy struggle to do so. I’m intrigued. Serve me. Become my thrall. I’ll take you beyond this rock. Show you the stars."

Lucien leaned into the rod, pressing against Yasta’s boot. "The stars?"

"Of course," Yasta boasted. "I am an elite of the Great Yu Imperium’s First Military Academy! One bold enough to undertake a Planetary Evolution Trial. Succeed, and I ascend to greater institutions. Following me would be your life’s greatest honor. Pray you aren’t outclassed by others on this dung heap." With a contemptuous flick of his leg, he sent Lucien’s rod flying.

As Yasta basked in his superiority, Lucien’s eyes turned glacial. His right palm vibrated violently, rippling the air as if gripping it.

Yasta’s smirk vanished. "Shockwave Palm? Impossible—!"

THUD!

Lucien’s palm slammed into Yasta’s chest. The white light-armor shattered. Yasta hurtled backward, blood spraying from his lips. Mid-air, he twisted desperately, shortsword lashing out.

Lucien charged toward the blade, his right palm vibrating anew.

"You’re no native!" Yasta choked out, fury and terror mingling. "You’re from the stars!"

Lucien’s palm thrust forward—

Yasta stabbed—and met empty air. Lucien had vanished, leaving only a fading afterimage. "Phantom Step?!" Blood fountained from Yasta’s mouth. The ring on his finger liquefied, flowing into plates of armor that raced to encase him.

CRACK!

Another Shockwave Palm struck the same spot. The sickening sound of shattering bone echoed.

A second too late, the Nano-Weave Vambrace sealed over Yasta’s body. Useless. His heart was pulp. He crashed beside his drop pod, blood slicking its hull.

Lucien dropped to one knee, gasping. Blood vessels in his right hand had ruptured; agony etched his face. The Shockwave Palm was beyond his current limits. Only the need to kill Yasta had justified the risk. It worked. The ambush I planned for so long...

Two Shockwave Palms and one Phantom Step in rapid succession. His body trembled violently, pushed past its breaking point.

Lucien staggered to the corpse. The vambrace dissolved back into a ring. He pocketed it—basic gear among starfarers, useless against higher-tier attacks but sufficient against an Earthshaker.

Next, the Wrist-Terminal. Lucien pried it off, deftly disabling its locator before storing it in his Void Ring. Finally, his eyes scanned Yasta’s body, settling on the second knuckle of the right hand. A swift cut. A crystalline chip, slick with blood, fell free.

"Finally!" Lucien breathed, snatching it. This was why he’d ambushed Yasta. Why he’d refused Bio-Crystals. The Flesh Forging Essence.

Forged by cosmic powerhouses, this crystalline essence stimulated cells, scoured the body, shattering ​mortal limits. It enabled direct absorption of Stellar Energy—the universe’s purest power source. The only efficient path.

Swallowing Bio-Crystals? A crude, inferior method. Trapping the user in a cycle of dependency, forever scavenging, forever limited. Such practitioners were scorned as ​Battle Thralls.

The energy within mutated beasts? Merely crude, contaminated Stellar Energy. Harmful to absorb directly.

Lucien was from the stars. To legitimize his identity on Earth, he’d arrived without undergoing Flesh Forging, posing as a baseline human. Now, on this trial world, constraints vanished. The Planetary Evolution Trial sanctioned all gains. A rule set by the Great Yu Imperium’s Youth Council—absolute.

"This one was only Scout Tier," Lucien murmured, examining the chip. "Means it’s been used twice. One charge left. Need to find more..." He hauled Yasta’s body into the drop pod and turned to leave.

WHOOSH!

Shadow blotted the sun. An attack from behind.

Lucien twisted aside, lashing out with a backward kick. BANG! The impact jarred his bones—Earthshaker! He recoiled instantly.

His assailant staggered back several steps. Lucien’s eyes locked onto a woman’s face—strikingly clear-featured.

"Why attack?" Lucien’s voice was ice. No killing intent radiated from her, but an ambush was an ambush.

The woman’s gaze flicked to the drop pod, then pinned Lucien. "I saw you dump that alien’s corpse. Who are you? Why kill him? What do you know?"

Lucien’s smile was cold. "Why tell you?"

"Then I’ll make you," she hissed. A dagger flashed from behind her back. She lunged, the blade keening as it tore the air, each strike aimed at Lucien’s vitals.

Lucien flowed around the attacks. Seizing an opening, he clamped onto her wrist. His other hand shot toward her abdomen. The woman’s brow furrowed. Her feet cracked the earth as she released the dagger, meeting Lucien’s palm with her own.

The air plunged into icy cold. Lucien’s eyes widened—frost crawled over his hand! "A Combat Art?"

"You’re outmatched. Talk!" she commanded. The temperature plummeted further.