Chapter 488: Walking Through The Slums

His mask back on, Dasha walked with measured steps through the decaying veins of the Slums, a world both forgotten and alive in ways most would not notice. His eyes, keen as a predator’s yet calculating like a scientist’s, scanned his surroundings with the relentless curiosity of a man who dissected everything—ideas, bodies, even the laws of nature.

’Look at these buildings. Everything is patched up. Everything is constantly in repair.’

The Natural Qi here was thick with rot, but after spending a day sucking it up, there was something beneath it. A Qi that wasn’t quite death, but transformation—the natural decay of a world abandoned by order.

He stopped by a gnarled tree that had grown sideways, its roots exposed, thick and knotted like the veins of a dead titan. Strange tendrils curled around it, pulsing faintly with mana, reacting to the air like sensitive whiskers. The leaves were charcoal black, absorbing every hint of light, making the plant seem like it drank in the shadows themselves.

Dasha plucked a single leaf.

It didn’t crumple. It didn’t bend.

It was stiff, sharp at the edges, like a knife. A single brush against his palm, and it left behind a thin cut—so precise that even he was momentarily impressed.

“Fascinating. The plant has replaced photosynthesis with pure mana absorption.” He turned it over in his fingers. “The leaves have naturally developed an edge akin to obsidian. It is a defense mechanism, but also a weapon. If processed properly… I could refine this into something lethal.”

He slipped the leaf into his coat. More testing would be required later.

Something buzzed past his ear. A fly.

His eyes tracked its movements instantly.

’Twice the size of a normal fly.’

The wings beat at an irregular frequency. Not an error—an adaptation. The density of mana in the Slums must have pushed evolution in strange directions.

Then he saw it.

A second fly. Half the size of a normal one. Dasha snapped and plucked it from the air, holding it delicately by its wings.

’A direct contrast. This is unnatural. The size difference suggests forced environmental adaptation.’

He carefully ripped its wings off, feeling the delicate membrane between his fingers. The wings had a strange iridescent sheen, reflecting mana even under the dim, grimy Slum light.

’This material… It is mana-conductive. I will have to test its uses.’

More flies came at him. Ah, there must have been a nest nearby. He pocketed the wings and attempted to kill the small swarm with a Thunder Clap. He failed. Activating Electro-step, electricity funelled through him and he finished half of them with a stronger, more focused Storm Surge Kick. The other half started to retreat, understanding their demise, and they wound up taking him to their nest.

It was nothing special. In a shack with two corpses left behind, likely a daughter and mother that killed each other, and in the top-left corner the swarm. A black ball double the size of a basketball that buzzed with flies. It seemed almost synthetic, made of magic string with tiny gaps for the flies to come and go. His invisibility activated, the bugs failed to notice him. His footsteps lacked sound. His breathing and heart rate was eerily still.

He observed some minutes to see what they would do. On occasion, he would snatch a fly to investigate it and slipped relevant pieces into his inventory.

Dasha decided he saw enough, struck the black nest, and ripped it in half. Tens of thousand of flies poured out and the room was buzzing in black.

Dasha closed his eyes and attempted to count and locate every single one of them with Qi Sense. He succeeded in five seconds and then proceeded to kill the ten thousand flies with precise jabs.

Again, he was successful. Again, he was learning. Opening his eyes, the room was befallen with tiny dead flies. He decided to stuff the nest into his inventory for research purposes.

“This is a surprisingly excellent exercise for training my Qi Sense. Next time, I will try and specify the types of mutations they have too.”

***

Inspecting flies, inspecting streets. For him, it was all the same.

Dasha’s feet halted at the halfway point of an alleyway.

Something shifted in the air. His instincts sharpened. His Qi coiled, ready to strike. The eyes of the Slums turned to him and something had decided to act.

The attack came in silence.

Not a word. Not a whisper.

Only violence.

A blur of twenty shadowed figures burst from above. Dasha counted fire, water, wind, all enveloped in fists and metal.

Dasha looked above and reacted instantly. Electro-step. His body blurred backward, the world snapping into slow motion. The first twenty-some attackers smacked into the alleyway. The others were yet to come. His mind ran through every detail of the ones in front of him—their stances, their attacks, the angles.

’Coordinated. Disciplined. No wasted movement.’

His feet barely touched the ground before he burst forward and retaliated.

Storm Surge Kick.

His leg snapped forward in a blur—a crackling arc of black lightning exploded outward, striking one attacker dead in the chest. His ribs shattered instantly, his body flung back like a broken doll.

Another lunged.

Dasha pivoted.

Thunder Clap.

He struck with his palm. The sheer concussive force sent two more attackers flying, their bodies spasming violently as black lightning coursed through them.

They felt no pain.

They made no sound.

The rest finally made it down with loud thuds. Dasha was already aware and raised a hand.

“O Palm of the Great Sin, Turn them to cinders: Eildr

.”

The Blazing Fury Combo focused into a single blast of black fire. He incinerated ten of the fighters and promptly jumped when he was finished. Because even with the broken ribs, even with concussions, the others came at him.

’They are not ordinary men.’

One wielded a serrated bone blade, swinging for Dasha’s neck.

Blazing Fury Combo. A precise parry, followed by a relentless flurry of strikes—his fists ignited with ordinary flames flickering black. The attacker’s body broke apart under the assault, bones fracturing in brutal sequence.

Still, no screams. They died like they knew their time was up.

No hesitation.

Fourteen were done, six more came.

Dasha did not retreat and so he killed.

The battle ended after six minutes. His mana was down low after casting Eildr.

He stood in the alleyway, controlling his breath to utmost perfection. His Qi Sense caught a figure entering the alleyway from behind. He turned.

Dasha recognized this anomaly and surmised it was a demon.

’A Nasnas.’

A creature of ancient Arabic origin—half a man, split cleanly down the middle, hopping forward on a single leg, wielding a singular beefy arm. Deathly pale, it lacked the symmetry of a human form, yet moved with an unnatural grace. If something could exist in the slums, it existed.

And right now, it was staring straight at him. The Nasnas lunged.

’Fast.’

Faster than himself.

Dasha read his movements and sidestepped, but the demon twisted mid-air, its remaining limb stretching too far to rake its claws across his shoulder. Dasha had not hesitated. His lack of speed had cost him. Pain bloomed across his skin. Deep, precise cuts, as if from a surgeon’s knife. He barely registered the sting before the Nasnas was on him again.

It was fast. Too fast.

’Almost triple my own speed.’

Dasha ducked as the demon spun its single arm like a bladed wheel, the elongated claws whistling past his ear. He countered—a palm strike to the chest, aiming to shatter its balance.

His hand struck something wrong.

The flesh was elastic, absorbing the impact like striking deep mud. The Nasnas did bounce away but evidently it meant nothing in terms of damage. The Nasnas’ single leg propelled it off a nearby wall to come from above.

Dasha barely managed to dodge, the creature’s talons slicing through the fabric of his invisibility cloak. It did not rip, the cloak being of too high-quality, but his flesh did.

’Hng. Now it knows to target from my fists and face.’

The demon did not pause. It pressed forward. It blasted at him, bounced from the walls, scraped against his cheek and forehead and hair.

Thiing!

His white opera mask broke into two pieces. This demon never overextended, never left an opening. Dasha’s Qi Sense had not seen. Triple his own speed it may be, he analyzed every shift, every twitch of muscle. ’It favors its left. No, not favor—it only has a left. That means—’

The Nasnas bounced from the wall to the ground and to him, a sweeping claw aimed for his knee.

Dasha leapt, using Electro-Step mid-air to reposition. Lightning crackled beneath his feet as he landed behind the creature.

His fingers flicked out—Black Cards. Razor-thin projectiles shimmered through. The Nasnas did not dodge. Instead, its flesh opened. Like a blooming wound, a gaping orifice split across its spine, swallowing the projectiles whole.

Dasha exhaled through his nose. ’Fascinating. It can deal with pure Qi-based attacks via absorption. Meaning, if I wish to defeat, I must incorporate my flesh.’

The Nasnas let out a rattling exhale, its half-mouth curling into something resembling amusement. It understood. It knew he was learning.

And then, it rushed him again.

Dasha let the demon come, let it twist and lunge—analyzing. Calculating. The Nasnas slashed with its huge arm, and this time, Dasha caught its wrist. The demon’s elongated arm buckled under his grip.

“Your body absorbs magic, hence why my Black Cards were useless and why my palm strike was limited.” Dasha twisted, forcing the creature’s arm backward at an unnatural angle. “But you lack structure. Without a second limb, once caught, your balance is compromised.”

The Nasnas hissed, thrashing, but he had already moved.

Dasha drove his knee into its stomach, forcing it to fold inward—a grotesque collapse of unnatural flesh. Without blinking, in a single, sharp movement, he tore its arm off.

Black ichor sprayed across the ground.

The Nasnas stumbled back, but did not fall. Its remaining half-body shuddered, as if deciding whether or not it should die.

It decided to go after him with its jaw. Dasha shoved his fist into its mouth, breaking its teeth, and then grabbed it by its massive skull to slam it down. Keeping the grip, he ragdolled it around. Slam! Slam! Slam! Slam!

Until its skull was mush and it was all but inky black blood.

[ Level up! ]

He released the dead demon and flexed his fingers, watching the black ichor drip from them. ’Adaptive, intelligent, and with an intriguing ability. Quite amusing.’

He splattered the blood with a sharp motion and continued on his way.

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