The sky rumbled like a collapsing mountain, and Azhar's voice rolled across the frozen ruins, vast and commanding.
"Wake up, boy. Your rest time is over."
Leon jolted awake, his body stiff, his eyes snapping open. He groaned and rubbed his face, his head still heavy.
"F-fuck… already? It feels like I barely closed my eyes. Three hours… it felt like five damn minutes."
His voice cracked with frustration. Days of endless slaughter had left him half-dead, and now even the mercy of sleep had been snatched away. His body ached, his mood soured — he was cranky, irritable, very human.
But Azhar ignored his complaints, his voice booming like judgment from the heavens.
"Enough whining. Now the true first trial begins."
Leon's breath caught. His chest tightened, fear threading through his exhaustion.
"T-true trial?"
"Yes," Azhar thundered. "The beasts you slew before were nothing but carrion hounds — fodder meant to temper your flesh and force your awakening. Now, you will face spirit beasts. Creatures born of spirit energy, stronger, faster, more savage than anything you have touched thus far."
Leon's throat went dry.
Azhar's words carved across the sky like hammer strikes.
"First, two hundred spirit beasts of the third stage of the Warrior Realm. They will come in a wave, relentless and merciless. Survive them, and the second wave will descend."
Leon's stomach twisted, his fists clenching unconsciously.
"The second wave will be two hundred spirit beasts of the fourth stage of the Warrior Realm." Azhar's tone sharpened, cold and absolute. "Each one will carry strength that could split you apart with ease. Together, they will be like a storm."
Leon's heart thundered painfully in his chest. He had struggled against ordinary monsters — now, these things would be cultivators in flesh.
"And finally…" Azhar's voice grew even darker, reverberating through Leon's very bones. "…the third wave. One hundred spirit beasts of the fifth stage of the Warrior Realm. Each one alone could crush a mortal army. You will face them all. Only then will your first trial end."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Leon's lips parted in disbelief, his voice shaking.
"That's… impossible. How the hell am I supposed to—"
But his words choked off as the ground trembled beneath his feet. In the distance, shadows stirred, and the air thickened with a pressure unlike anything he had felt before.
The trial was already beginning.
It was only natural that Leon's heart filled with fear.
He had just stepped into the first stage of the Spirit Warrior Realm, barely scratching the surface of cultivation. And yet, the first wave that awaited him were beasts of the third stage.
The gap might not seem wide to outsiders — stage to stage, not realm to realm. But every cultivator knew the truth: even one stage could decide life and death.
Each step up refined the body, deepened the spirit energy, and sharpened the instincts. Against an opponent two stages higher, the difference was no longer simply strength — it was speed, endurance, resilience.
A single beast of the third stage would already push Leon to his limit. Two hundred of them…
His chest tightened, a cold dread seeping into his bones.
"What's this? Too scared to move?"
Azhar's voice rumbled from the heavens, heavy with disdain, every syllable pressing down on Leon's trembling frame like iron chains.
"Very well. Let me grant you some… motivation."
The sky itself seemed to darken as his words echoed.
"If you complete this trial, boy, you will earn something beyond precious — a reward that will mark the true beginning of your path. But if you fail…" His tone dropped, sharp as a blade. "…then only death awaits you."
Leon's throat tightened. He gulped hard, the taste of blood thick on his tongue. His body screamed to flee, to collapse, to beg. Fear coiled in his chest like a serpent, constricting until he could scarcely breathe.
But what choice did he have?
To refuse was to die. To falter was to remain weak — the same useless, worthless boy who had once wasted his life.
No. He would not be that man again.
His trembling hand reached down. Fingers closed around the jagged, sharpened bones of the beasts he had already slain. One in each hand, heavier than steel, slick with dried blood.
He forced his legs to steady. His chest heaved once, then again. Slowly, the trembling in his eyes hardened into something else.
Determination.
Leon lifted his head, obsidian eyes burning.
"Come on, you bastards," he roared, voice raw and cracked, yet carrying the weight of defiance. "COME ON, YOU FUCKING BEASTS!"
The sound tore through the silence, and in that instant—
The world resumed.
The stillness shattered.
The swarm surged forward, the first wave of spirit beasts lunging with earth-shaking roars. The ground trembled beneath their charge, claws tearing stone, jaws snapping open wide. Two hundred glowing eyes locked onto Leon, their killing intent crashing over him like a tidal wave.
The trial of death had begun again.
The swarm thundered across the ruins.
The first of the Stage 3 spirit beasts slammed into the ground before him, claws gouging deep trenches through the broken stone. Leon's chest tightened at the sight.
These were not like the fodder he had slaughtered before.
The creature was massive, towering over him, its body wrapped in veins that pulsed faintly with spirit energy. Its hide was thicker than iron, bone spikes jutting along its spine, and six burning eyes glared down with predatory intelligence. Each breath it exhaled came with the weight of power, pressing the air itself heavy against Leon's lungs.
Behind it, more poured from the shattered streets — their movements faster, sharper, more coordinated than the mindless hounds he had faced before. They weren't swarming like beasts. They were hunting like soldiers.
Leon's grip tightened on the jagged beast bones in his hands. His stomach churned, his throat dry. Stronger. Faster. More than me. All of them more than me.
The ground shook. The first beast lunged.
Leon barely had time to raise his weapon. Claws swept down with force that rattled his bones. He caught the strike with his right-hand weapon, the impact nearly snapping his arm in half. His knees buckled, blood spraying from his lips.
But the black flame in his chest pulsed. Spirit energy surged into his muscles, refusing to let him collapse.
Leon roared, twisting his body. His left-hand bone drove upward, punching into the beast's flesh beneath its arm. Blood burst forth, hot and thick.
The spirit beast howled, staggering back.
Before Leon could breathe, another charged from the side. Its jaws opened wide, saliva sizzling on the ground where it fell.
Leon rolled instinctively, stone tearing his skin, and stabbed blindly upward. His weapon pierced the beast's lower jaw. Black ichor poured down his arm as he shoved harder, ripping through tongue and throat.
The beast convulsed, collapsing at his feet.
Leon staggered up, chest heaving, vision swimming. His body screamed from every movement. But then—
That warmth.
The faint essence of the slain beast seeped into his veins, patching the tears in his muscles, steadying his shaking arms. Not much — weaker than before — but enough to keep him standing.
A third beast roared, its spirit aura pressing down like a storm. Leon braced, raising his weapons. But this time, his movements weren't wild and frantic.
His grip was firmer. His steps steadier.
I've fought for days. I know how these monsters move now. I can read them. I can kill them.
The beast lunged. Leon sidestepped, the claws grazing past as he slammed his bone weapon into its ribs. Another charged from behind — he ducked, spinning, his other weapon slashing across its throat.
Blood sprayed in arcs, coating him head to toe.
He was still breathing. Still fighting.
One beast after another fell beneath his crude weapons. His arms moved with growing precision, each strike guided not by desperation but by instinct honed through endless slaughter. The days of fighting, the agony, the exhaustion — they had forged his body into something different. Something sharper.
Every kill gave him a flicker of strength. Every flicker was enough to carry him into the next clash.
The battlefield shook with snarls and howls as more spirit beasts closed in, encircling him on all sides. Dozens of glowing eyes burned in the darkness, their auras thick enough to make his chest feel like it was caving in.
Leon spat blood into the dirt, raising his weapons high. His lips split into a grim, bloodstained smile.
"Come on," he rasped, his voice raw but steady. "I'll carve through every last one of you."
And with a roar, he charged into the storm.
Time blurred into blood and death.
Days became weeks. Weeks became months.
Leon fought, killed, bled, and endured. Wave after wave of spirit beasts fell before his crude bone weapons, his hands blistered, torn, and scarred beyond recognition. Every strike of his arm came slower, heavier — yet every kill gave him the faint flicker of power he needed to move again.
Azhar allowed him only scraps of mercy: three hours of sleep, ten minutes of food. Then back into the storm. Again. And again. And again.
Six months.
For six months, the ruins echoed with roars and screams, with the crash of claws against bone and the endless spray of blood. Leon had long lost count of how many beasts he had slain. Hundreds? Thousands? The number no longer mattered.
What mattered was that he endured.
The first wave of two hundred Stage 3 spirit beasts — crushed.
The second wave of two hundred Stage 4 beasts — slaughtered, piece by piece, though every fight carved deeper wounds into his flesh and soul.
And now—
He stood before the final wave.
The ground trembled beneath the weight of the massive creature looming ahead. A Stage 5 spirit beast — towering, monstrous, its body rippling with spirit energy so dense it warped the air around it. Its six eyes burned like suns, its claws radiating power sharp enough to split stone with a mere touch. The pressure of its aura alone made Leon's chest tighten, every breath a struggle.
His clothes hung in tatters, soaked with dried blood. His body bore scars upon scars, his arms numb, his legs trembling. Yet his grip on the beast bones was unyielding, his obsidian eyes sharper than ever.
And then it happened.
BOOM!