Arin and Lyra settled into their cultivation spot near a rune-etched pillar in the Vale Relic's crystalline plaza, the heart of the small world aglow with spiritual energy. Spiral runes carved into the polished crystal floor pulsed in rhythm with Arin's hum, their golden glow weaving patterns across the scattered Vale juniors. The air thrummed with dense spiritual power, a crucible for their Third Realm cores. Other juniors meditated or paced, their auras focused, each preparing for the final trial Elira had described. The plaza's tension hung heavy, the runes brightening daily, as if the Relic marked the approach of its ultimate test.
Arin sat cross-legged, his pouch open, the crimson spiritual fruits from the bird-beast trial radiating Third Realm potency. Lyra mirrored him, her four berries from the squirrel guardian cradled in her palm. The snake battle's wounds—Arin's side cut, Lyra's bruised thigh and arm—had healed, the cave's insight into spiritual circulation aiding recovery. The Spiral Blade Art and Cycle of Dawn scriptures rested in Arin's pouch, saved for post-Relic study, but the insights from the shadow-wolf (spiritual resonance) and cave sharpened their cultivation. Elira's advice—insights and mentality for the Fourth Realm—guided their efforts, the fruits a safe path to progress without risking ejection.
Arin bit into a fruit, its energy surging through his meridians like a cascade of light. His Third Realm core spun, absorbing the power, the resonance insight aligning his aura with the Relic's pulse. The fruit's potency, stronger than the berries, drove his cultivation forward, his aura thickening. Lyra consumed a berry, her core flaring as its energy fused with hers, her insight-driven control smoothing the flow. They cultivated in silence, the plaza's energy amplifying their efforts, their cores densifying with each cycle.
Days blurred into weeks, the Relic's time dilation stretching three weeks inside to mere hours outside. Arin consumed two more fruits, each refining his core, pushing his cultivation to the Late Spirit Core Stage, one step from Peak. The cave and obelisk insights deepened his energy mastery, his aura vibrant, his hum resonating with the plaza's runes. Lyra used two berries, reaching the Middle Spirit Core Stage, her aura stable but less dense than Arin's. Her runed sword lay beside her, its runes catching the plaza's glow, a reminder of their trials.
The other juniors cultivated in parallel, their Third Realm auras a quiet symphony. Elira, near her rune cluster, absorbed energy with near-Fourth Realm intensity, her golden-brown hair aglow in the rune light. A few juniors glanced at Arin and Lyra, noting their trial-earned gains, but none spoke, the plaza's anticipation silencing chatter. Arin's detection swept the area, sensing progress—some at Middle, others nearing Late like him—but his focus stayed inward, the hum urging him to refine his insights.
After three weeks, a resonant hum shook the plaza, not Arin's but the Relic's, vibrating through the crystal floor. The runes blazed, their golden light converging into a colossal spiral gateway at the plaza's center. The juniors stirred, auras flaring, as the gateway parted, revealing a towering staircase of 99 crystalline steps, each etched with spiraling runes that pulsed with spiritual energy. The steps ascended into a shimmering void, their peak veiled in radiant haze. An ancient voice, deep and resonant, echoed through the plaza, its timbre like weathered stone carved by eons, carrying the weight of timeless wisdom: "Climb the stairs. Ascend as far as your understanding allows. Your reward shall be measured by the steps you conquer."
Arin stood, his Late Third Realm aura steady, the hum in his chest syncing with the staircase's runes. Lyra rose beside him, her Middle Third Realm core vibrant, her grin tempered by focus. The juniors gathered, Elira among them, her expression stoic. No one discussed the trial's details—its nature remained elusive, known only as a test of insights and mentality, as Elira had said, with rewards tied to individual performance. The staircase loomed, its energy a silent challenge.
They approached the gateway, the juniors spreading out, each facing a solitary path despite the shared start. Arin and Lyra stood together, their pouches secure, the Cycle of Dawn and Spiral Blade Art untouched, their fruits and berries partially spent. The first step glowed, beckoning them forward. Arin's detection probed upward, sensing only the runes' pulse, the trial's challenge still hidden.
As they stepped onto the first stair, a spiritual pressure descended, a heavy veil pressing on their cores and minds. Arin instinctively reached for his cultivation, but the energy stalled, the pressure unmoved. His insights—circulation and resonance—stirred, offering clarity: the trial demanded understanding, not power. Lyra tensed, her aura flickering as she sensed the same. The second step awaited, the pressure intensifying, probing their grasp of the Relic's teachings.
The trial had begun, the staircase's runes pulsing, the pressure a crucible for their insights. Arin's Late Third Realm core thrummed, one step from Peak, his understanding the key to climbing. Lyra kept pace, her Middle Third Realm aura resilient, their trials' rewards their foundation. The Relic's ancient voice echoed in their minds, its promise of rewards urging them onward.