Chapter 36: Renewed Resolve
Four long months passed since the blood-soaked mission within the Great Stone Forest. Of the twenty-five disciples who once carried the banner of the Bright Blade Subsect, only twelve returned alive. The others were gone forever, their names whispered only in memory. Some were devoured by the cursed forest, others left broken on battlefields carved by flame, steel, and demonic fury. Prince Hunter and Christy, though alive, had been escorted directly into the Bright Brilliant Blade Sect, separated from the subsect survivors.
Within the plaza of the subsect, the towering bulletin board stood like a monument of judgment. Names glowed faintly upon its surface, etched with the sect's branding for all to see. Ramius. Talia. Nahjer. Two others. Their titles shone as accepted candidates for the Bright Brilliant Blade Sect. Those names rested high, symbols of refined talent, sharp potential, and a future brighter than most dared dream. For the rest, the silence of anonymity weighed heavy.
Elton, however, had vanished from the public eye.
A month earlier, his body finally recovered from the wounds he had suffered in the basin. Zoro, ever resilient, returned to training weeks before Elton, his will as sharp as the katanas he carried. Cedric had endured worse. His arm remained bound in layers of healing wraps, stiff and aching with every movement. Yet he moved, he fought, and he laughed despite the lingering pain. That was more than Elton could claim.
Elton had spent weeks locked in his chamber. The stone walls pressed down like a tomb, each corner filled with silence and memory. The scenes from the Stone Forest replayed endlessly in his head: the moment Christy was struck down, the screams that tore across the battlefield, and the sight of his own helplessness. Behind it all lingered another scar, deeper than any wound—the explosion from his childhood. The day a star gem tore apart his city and took his parents. That destruction never left him. He had mistaken his recent strength as invincibility, yet the truth had broken him.
He was still a child.
And in those weeks of silence, the voice inside him laughed. It echoed in the corners of his mind, cruel and mocking, like a shadow smirking behind his every thought. But for the last three weeks, even that voice had gone silent.
Until today.
"Pathetic," the voice growled, sharp and amused. "You call this strength? Hiding, sulking, and crawling in weakness like a cornered rat?"
Elton stiffened, his breath caught in his throat.
"You are no different from the insects you have mingled with your entire life. Weak, trembling, and afraid."
Elton's fists tightened. His eyes trembled with shame and rage, but the voice pressed further, merciless and venomous.
"Oh, and by the way…" it hissed like a knife dragging across steel. "I met Christy."
Elton froze completely.
"What… what do you mean?" he whispered with a trembling voice.
The laughter that followed shook him to his core. "I spoke to her. I tasted her fear. Perhaps next time she will not be so lucky."
Elton's body shook violently. His heartbeat pounded like war drums, his breath ragged, sweat pouring down his brow.
"You want to protect her? Then grow stronger. Train until your bones crack. Bleed until your soul screams. Or else, you will watch her die."
Then the silence returned, cold and absolute.
But Elton's heart continued to thunder.
Later that evening, Elton rejoined Zoro, Cedric, and a handful of others from the subsect. They gathered over roasted meat, the smoke curling upward in thin spirals. Zoro, always stoic, revealed a rare smile. Cedric joked through winces of pain, promising to turn his battered arm into a weapon someday. Their laughter carried lightly, soft but genuine.
Elton said little. His silence went unnoticed, but his eyes burned with something sharper than grief.
The following morning, the training grounds echoed with the relentless rhythm of fists striking wood and legs battering stone. Elton had returned. His training was merciless, each strike sharper, each movement heavier. Sweat poured, blood spilled, and bones bruised as he pushed himself further than ever before.
When missions came, he volunteered without hesitation. Deliveries, spirit beast purges, escort tasks, or hunts in dangerous valleys—it made no difference. Elton took them all, throwing himself into the grind of endless battles and ceaseless trials. He gathered resources, refined his cultivation, and endured every hardship the sect could offer.
Three months passed in this relentless haze of sweat, steel, and willpower.
Then came the summons.
Ten disciples were chosen by name, handpicked and escorted to the Bright Brilliant Blade Sect. Among them were Ramius, Talia, and Nahjer, each having reached Silver Tier Five. Their journey would continue on brighter paths, their futures secured among the greater sect.
Elton stood apart, not chosen, but this time, he did not falter. His heart no longer wavered, his mind no longer hesitated. He had carved a promise into his soul.
This time, he would not be left behind.