'Two years to get stronger.'

The message arrived like a ghost, bypassing the Kagu family's formidable security networks through channels Ren didn't fully comprehend but implicitly trusted. It came from Arthur Nightingale, the Second Hero. The full context painted a grim picture: a newly ascended divine threat named Alyssara, a desperate alliance formed against impossible odds, and a non-negotiable two-year countdown to a potentially world-altering confrontation. But the core directive for Ren was stark: 'Ignore everything else. Focus solely on surpassing your limits. When this time is over, a true war will begin, and we will need every ounce of strength Earth can muster.'

For Ren, the message wasn't a revelation but an accelerant. He was already on the path. Two years prior, he was a celebrated prodigy, a Mid Radiant whose skill in the Kagu family's Grade 6 art, Void Fist, was deemed exceptional. He possessed the rare triple affinity for space, time, and gravity, synergizing perfectly with the Void Fist's principles. His unique Gift, the God's Eyes, granted him visual acuity on a conceptual level, allowing him to perceive the hidden structures of reality.

Despite this, he felt a barrier. He stood before the Gates of Transcendence, the threshold separating Radiant power from something more fundamental. He hadn't yet achieved the fifth level of fist mastery, the state known universally as Fist Unity. The path forward was obscured.

Arthur's message provided the necessary clarity and urgency. This was no longer just about personal ambition; it was about planetary readiness. Ren acted decisively. He formally recused himself from his Kagu corporate responsibilities, ignored the summons of the Eastern Council, and sealed himself away in the deepest, most shielded training chambers beneath the Kagu compound – subterranean vaults designed to contain reality-warping forces.

For the next twenty-four months, Ren Kagu vanished. His world shrank to the dimensions of the training chamber, his focus narrowed to the singular goal of transcendence. His primary tool became his God's Eyes. He didn't just practice the Void Fist forms; he observed them, dissected them, perceived them on a level beyond physical movement. He watched the infinitesimal ripples his own body created in spacetime with every shift, every breath.

He analyzed combat data, not just battles, but the fundamental interactions of energy and matter. Using his Gift, he slowed his perception to attoseconds, watching how Radiant energy interacted with the fabric of reality, noting the friction, the resistance, the subtle inefficiencies inherent even in masterful techniques. He observed his own energy flow, seeing not just the channels, but the near-imperceptible drag imposed by spacetime itself.

The Kagu Void Fist taught control through precise internal energy manipulation and leveraging spatial distortions. But Ren realized it treated the universe as a medium to be acted upon. He began to see it differently – as an active participant, an ocean with currents defined by the laws of space, time, and gravity.

The shift came through stillness, through observation. He stopped trying to force the Void Fist's principles onto reality. Leveraging his triple affinity, he began to listen to reality, to sense its underlying structure, its preferred pathways. He started to adjust his movements, his energy flow, not to overcome resistance, but to align with the fundamental geometry of spacetime.

He learned to subtly warp space not as an attack, but as an invitation for his fist to arrive without resistance. He learned to fractionally alter temporal flow around his target, making his movements appear inevitable, landing before the conscious thought to defend could form. He learned to apply minute gravitational lenses, adding conceptual weight to a light touch or negating an opponent's momentum entirely.

His internal power, honed by the Void Fist, found a new expression. It wasn't just unified within him; it resonated in perfect accord with the external universe. This was the key. He achieved the fifth level, Fist Unity, feeling the seamless integration of self and power. But he didn't stop there. Pushing further, guided by his unique perception, he transcended Unity itself, reaching a state where his intent and the universe's fundamental laws became one. Fist Accord.

With this profound understanding, the Gates of Transcendence simply ceased to be a barrier. He stepped through, not into a surge of new power, but into a state of deeper quiet, a more fundamental connection to the fabric of existence. He had reached Peak Radiant-rank.

His isolation wasn't total blindness. Periodically, Ren directed his God's Eyes outward, amplified by Kagu sensory arrays. He monitored the Red Chalice Cult. He saw their network expand, their operatives grow bolder. He identified individuals radiating significant power: Ascendant-rank Bishops coordinating operations, more potent Immortal-rank Cardinals leading fanatical legions. He witnessed the disturbing integration of vampires: elusive Ascendant Vampire Elders, formidable Immortal Vampire Ancestors, and finally, several terrifying Radiant-rank Vampire Lords whose power signatures pulsed with ancient hunger.

'They grew significantly,' Ren noted, a rare flicker of surprise touching his deep calm. 'Alyssara's influence, or perhaps she unlocked something dormant.' But he saw the instability in their power, the reliance on zealotry or stolen life force. His own evolution was different. He hadn't just gained power; he had gained understanding.

So, when the cult's storm broke over the East, when the Kagu heartland became a battlefield, Ren emerged not as a desperate defender, but as a calm corrective force.

He stepped onto the ravaged central plaza of the Kagu headquarters. Before him, the remnants of the cult's elite forces – those who had survived the negation of their leaders – wavered between fanaticism and dawning terror.

The nearest fanatics charged, driven by ingrained zeal, crimson energy flaring. Ren moved. To outside observers, it was impossible grace, a phantom gliding through chaos. His God's Eyes saw the true, intricate dance: minute adjustments to spacetime allowed him to exist in the conceptual gaps between their attacks, his movements fractionally preceding their completion. His hands flowed in simple, unhurried arcs. A palm brushed a chest. Fingers tapped a temple. The edge of a hand traced a line near a throat. Each contact was light, almost dismissive, yet carried the absolute weight of Fist Accord. Reality warped subtly around the impact points. Localized gravity fluctuated impossibly. Bodies didn't explode; they simply failed. Systems ceased functioning. They collapsed silently, inert.

A coven of Vampire Elders flickered through the smoke, moving as blurs. Ren's perception painted their trajectories as simple lines. He didn't attack; he adjusted their environment. A focused gravitational pulse sent one spiraling into wreckage. A micro-dilation of time caused another's lunge to miss wildly. A spatial fold redirected a third's claws harmlessly into the ground.

Cultist Bishops unleashed coordinated barrages from the ruins. Ren walked through them. His God's Eyes read the nature of each spell. Minute gestures, focused intent – he subtly altered the local spacetime geometry. Spells didn't impact; they flowed around him, unraveling harmlessly against the plaza floor behind.

Two Vampire Ancestors attempted a synchronized pincer strike, radiating centuries of predatory power. Ren met them with quiet negation. As one lunged, his fist arrived inevitably, tapping the vampire's wrist. Time stuttered locally; the vampire's own kinetic force overloaded its structure, shattering its arm. As the other swept in, Ren's heel connected with the ground. A gravitational pulse momentarily anchored the Ancestor, disrupting its speed just enough for Ren's upward palm strike to the chin, a ripple of spatial distortion extinguishing its unlife.

He moved through the remaining forces, untouchable, undeniable. Even the last Vampire Lords and cultist Cardinals found their potent attacks dissolving, their defenses bypassed, their very presence subtly contradicted by his serene movements. They were strong, stronger than anticipated. But against Fist Accord, against a demigod moving in harmony with the universe, their strength was irrelevant noise.

Minutes passed. The plaza fell silent but for the crackle of fires. Hundreds of attackers lay still, dissolved, or erased. Ren stood alone, breathing evenly, untouched. He had not fought; he had calibrated.

He slowly lowered his hands. Then, his head tilted slightly. His God's Eyes narrowed, focusing past the immediate devastation, toward the heavily damaged main Kagu research tower. A presence. Dense. Heavy. Wrong. A power signature pulsing with suffocating miasma, resonating on a frequency that scraped against his senses, a discordant echo of the Calamities themselves.

Ren turned, his calm gaze locking onto the shattered, smoking entrance of the tower. From the oppressive darkness within, a figure began to emerge, radiating an aura that felt like a raw, bleeding tear in the fabric of reality.

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