Sacrifice!

When Harry entered the dimly lit room, his eyes immediately fell on Steven. The master of the Red Bird Dojo stood by the window, leaning slightly against the frame as though the simple act of standing required effort. His face was pale, almost ghostly, and there was a heaviness to his movements that was completely unlike the vibrant and powerful fighter Harry knew.

"Ahem." Steven turned toward him, but before he could speak, a racking cough shook his body. He pressed a hand to his chest, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

Harry frowned deeply. This wasn't the man he knew, the Dojo master who commanded respect with his strength and presence. Steven's reputation wasn't built on words; he was one of the strongest hall masters in the region, and his skills were said to surpass most of his peers. Yet here he was, frail and weakened, as if the life force that once radiated from him had been siphoned away.

"Teacher, what—" Harry began, his voice low but filled with concern.

Steven cut him off with a raised hand, his expression sharp despite his sickly appearance. "Don't ask, Zack," he said firmly, his voice hoarse but resolute. "This… this matter has nothing to do with you. It's not your burden to carry."

Harry hesitated, but Steven's gaze didn't waver. "Everyone in this world has secrets," Steven continued. "You have yours. I have mine. Some things are better left unsaid, for your own good."

There was a moment of silence between them before Steven's expression softened, and for the first time, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "That being said, before today, I would never have imagined that you—" he gestured toward Harry, "—a quiet kid who joined just two years ago, would possess such strength. You've surprised me."

Harry shifted slightly, unsure of how to respond to the unexpected praise.

"But it's a good thing," Steven continued, his voice growing steadier as if bolstered by the thought. He coughed again but waved away Harry's concern. "You've seen my condition. I'm in no shape to defend the school right now. In fact, for the foreseeable future, I may not be able to do anything at all. Someone needs to step up."

Steven's eyes locked on Harry, his gaze piercing despite his weakened state. "You've proven you have what it takes. From this moment on, you are the deputy master of the Red Bird Dojo."

Harry blinked, stunned. "This…"

He hadn't expected this. When he was summoned, he'd assumed Steven might question the origin of his strength or even reprimand him for revealing so much in front of outsiders. Instead, he was being offered a position of leadership, a role that came with not just authority but also responsibility.

Steven's smile widened slightly at Harry's hesitation. "You've earned it. Giroud was no ordinary opponent, and you didn't just beat him; you dominated him. That alone proves your worth. The school needs someone like you, especially now."

Harry took a deep breath, his mind racing. He had been prepared for trouble, maybe even to leave the Red Bird Dojo entirely if things took a bad turn. But this was an entirely different path. After a moment, he nodded. "I'll accept the role. But my focus will remain on my training. I'm not interested in the politics or daily management of the school. If trouble arises, I'll step in to help."

"That's all I ask," Steven said, his voice carrying a note of relief. "Just be here when it matters. That's more than enough."

The two talked for a little while longer, their conversation touching briefly on the state of the school and the challenges ahead. Steven, despite his condition, seemed content with his decision. For Harry, however, the situation was more complicated.

When he finally stepped out of the room, his expression was thoughtful, his mind running through everything that had just transpired.

"Has it really come to this?" he wondered.

It was clear to him that Steven knew hia strength wasn't the result of the Red Bird training method, he had known that from the start. But what puzzled him was Steven's complete lack of concern about Harry's own methods. Any other master would have been suspicious, asking questions to ensure the safety of the school. Steven, however, had brushed it aside entirely, almost as if it didn't matter.

Perhaps, Harry thought, Steven was under so much pressure that he couldn't afford to care. Whatever had happened to him, it had left him desperate to find someone who could share the burden of leading the school. Harry's sudden rise in strength was the perfect solution, a gift Steven wasn't going to question.

And, truthfully, the arrangement worked for Harry too. He had been weighing whether to leave the school in search of better opportunities, but now that seemed unnecessary. The position of deputy master came with authority, resources, and a place to continue his training. Becoming a leader at his age in another Dojo would have been almost impossible.

"This might not be what I expected," Harry thought as he walked through the quiet halls of the school, "but it's the best outcome I could have hoped for."

As he made his way to the training grounds, a faint smile played on his lips. The Red Bird Dojo had become more than just a place to train, it was now his responsibility. And whether Steven recovered or not, Harry was ready to face whatever challenges came next.

Harry stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the distant commotion outside the gates of the Red Bird Dojo. Reporters milled about, cameras flashing, voices raised as they clamored for interviews. Beyond them, curious onlookers and opportunists filled the streets, eager to catch a glimpse of the young fighter who had defeated Giroud. The chaos, the noise, the attention, it didn't faze Harry.

He turned away, his expression unreadable, and walked back inside without a word. The doors closed behind him, sealing him off from the outside world.

---

Days passed, and life at the Red Bird Dojo gradually settled into a rhythm. The initial uproar over Harry's victory began to subside, but the attention lingered. News of his triumph over Giroud; a Dojo Master-level fighter, spread like wildfire. Though the story hadn't yet reached its peak, whispers had begun to circulate among the influential figures of Maru City.

For many, Harry's rise was an opportunity. A Dojo Master-level fighter was as valuable as an army, and those with the foresight to act sought to align themselves with him. Prominent figures sent messengers bearing gifts and invitations. Reporters persisted, eager to capture his story.

But Harry remained elusive. He refused interviews, ignored overtures, and avoided public appearances entirely. Gradually, as the days turned into weeks, the fervor surrounding him began to fade. The Red Bird Dojo returned to its usual quiet; outwardly, at least.

---

Inside a dimly lit study deep within the Dojo, Harry worked tirelessly. The room was sparsely furnished, its central focus a massive stone table etched with intricate runes. The symbols glowed faintly in the flickering candlelight, exuding an eerie energy that filled the room with a sense of otherworldly power.

Several white rabbits squirmed in cages along the walls, their movements frantic. The air was heavy, charged with anticipation. Harry stood at the edge of the stone table, clad in a dark robe, his face calm and focused.

Without hesitation, he reached into one of the cages, pulling out a struggling rabbit. With a single, practiced motion, he ended its life, placing its lifeless body on the stone table. He repeated the process with a few more rabbits, their soft forms now lined up in eerie stillness.

Then, Harry drew a small knife, its blade gleaming faintly. Rolling up his sleeve, he made a deliberate cut on his forearm. Scarlet blood welled up, dripping onto the stone table. As the blood touched the engraved runes, the symbols flared to life, emitting a dazzling, otherworldly glow.

The room seemed to hum with energy.

The air grew thick, and a strange phenomenon began to unfold. Under Harry's watchful gaze, the rabbits' bodies started to wither, their flesh and blood seemingly drained by an unseen force. In mere moments, they were reduced to mummified husks, their vitality sucked away entirely.

At the same time, Harry felt a surge within himself. A burning heat spread through his veins, a pure, untainted vitality coursing into his body. It was an intoxicating sensation, a flood of energy that rejuvenated and strengthened him. His muscles tightened, his senses sharpened, and a faint glow seemed to radiate from his skin.

He flexed his fingers, testing the newfound strength coursing through him. "It's working," he murmured, his voice tinged with quiet satisfaction. "The power has grown… even if only slightly."

Harry's gaze shifted to the glowing stone table, its runes still alive with power. This was the 'Life' ritual, a technique he had inherited from the ruins, a forbidden method to siphon life force from sacrifices and use it to enhance one's own vitality.

The preparation had been painstaking. The ritual required not just the stone table but a collection of rare and specific materials, many of which Harry had spent weeks procuring. But now, seeing the results firsthand, he knew the effort had been worth it.

His mind raced with possibilities. The rabbits had produced a noticeable, albeit modest, effect. But what if he used higher-quality sacrifices? Animals with greater vitality, or perhaps even… something else? The thought sent a thrill through him, his pulse quickening at the prospect.

The implications of the ritual were staggering. As a knight, his strength was already formidable, but the 'Life' ritual opened doors to power far beyond what traditional training could achieve. It was a path to exponential growth, limited only by the sacrifices he could acquire.

For now, though, Harry focused on refining the process. He couldn't afford mistakes, not when the potential gains were so high. Over the following days, he conducted trial after trial, testing variables, experimenting with different techniques. Each time, the results were slightly more refined, the flow of life force more efficient.

---

In the quiet hours of the night, Harry sat at the edge of the laboratory, his mind alight with plans. The possibilities were endless, but the risks were equally great. The 'Life' ritual was powerful, yes, but it was also dangerous; both in practice and in principle. If word of it leaked out, it would paint a target on his back. Rivals, authorities, and even allies might turn against him.

He clenched his fists, feeling the lingering vitality coursing through his body. "Strength attracts attention," he muttered to himself, his voice firm. "But weakness invites destruction."

This was the path he had chosen. And as he glanced at the glowing stone table once more, he knew there was no turning back.