The outer disciple quarters were quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the faint hum of spirit stones absorbing moonlight.
Ash sat cross-legged in the corner of his shared room. The rest of the dormitory was asleep, but inside him—everything was burning.
Not in heat.
In awakening.
---
He had just passed into Root Forging Stage.
The energy storm had come slowly, rippling through his body like threads of molten silver and coal dust. He felt the Qi condense, shaping the five Spiritual Roots in his dantian. Average roots—no one would have noticed them.
But beneath those… deeper, where no normal cultivator looked…
Something else stirred.
> "Not bad," came Shen Mu's voice, cold and calm as ever. "You shaped your roots cleanly. Now begins the hard part."
Ash exhaled and opened his eyes. The world looked sharper, heavier.
> "What next?" he asked aloud.
In the corner of the room, behind a veil of shadows, the spirit of Shen Mu materialized again—his eyes ancient, his form more solid than before.
> "You're ready to attempt the first step of the hidden path," Shen Mu said. "You may… attempt to summon your Throne."
Ash blinked. "I thought Thrones come only after Qi Manifestation?"
Shen Mu's smirk was slight. "Correct. That is the path of the living."
He stepped forward, his hand glowing with eerie grey light.
> "But for a necromancer… a Throne is not granted. It is dug up. Stolen from the fragments of death, memory, and desire."
Ash felt a chill crawl up his spine.
> "You may fail. Most necromancers do. Only one in a thousand ever awakens a Necrotic Throne before Core Formation. But if you succeed…" Shen Mu leaned in, voice softer. "You must never let them see it."
Ash nodded slowly. "I'm ready."
---
He sat back down.
And this time, he descended inward.
Meditating deep into the soul.
---
At first, there was only void—endless grey mist.
But then, he saw something. A flicker of a circle far beneath his consciousness. Not golden. Not fiery. Just black stone, cracked and smoldering faintly, with bones coiled like a throne's backrest.
Ash floated toward it, unsure of what he was doing.
> "Throne… if you exist… I call you now."
The circle pulsed. Just once.
And then it rose.
---
It wasn't big—barely more than a chair-shaped altar, veiled in shadow. But it had roots—long, bone-like strands that twisted downward into the fog of his mind. A spiritual throne, not fully awakened… but real.
Ash opened his eyes with a gasp.
---
Shen Mu was already watching.
He smiled, for the first time fully. "You did it."
> "It's… small," Ash muttered.
> "All Thrones start small," Shen Mu replied. "Even those of the Ancients."
> "Will it grow?"
Shen Mu nodded.
> "As you kill, as you command spirits, as you shape the dead… it will feed on Will. Yours and theirs. The stronger your mind, the greater your Throne."
Ash stared at his hands.
> "What happens when it fully awakens?"
Shen Mu's face grew serious.
> "Then, and only then… will the world know true fear. A Necrotic Throne is a sin against Heaven. It has no elemental affinity. No spiritual harmony. It binds the soul to a cycle outside life and death."
> "And the moment the major sects realize you have it… they will burn this entire mountain to find you."
---
Ash stood, walking to the window.
Far above, Inner Disciples rode on flying swords and cranes, their bodies wrapped in white and silver light.
He was nothing to them.
Just another outer dog.
But deep inside him, a throne of bone now pulsed in silence.
Waiting.
---
> "Then I'll make sure they never see it," Ash whispered.
> "Not until they kneel before it."
---