The plaza had emptied, yet Kaelith remained seated on the stone steps, his body trembling under the aftershocks of the trial. His veins burned, his chest ached, and blood stained his robes.
But his eyes still held fire.
It was then that a shadow fell across him.
Vice-Master Sylara stood before him, her black robes fluttering in the breeze, her presence vast and oppressive even though she held it tightly bound. Her silver eyes seemed to pierce straight through him, as though she could read every fracture in his soul.
"Stand," she commanded.
Kaelith forced himself upright. His legs shook, but he rose to his feet.
Her lips curved ever so faintly. "Good. You did not collapse completely in the trial, and you will not collapse now. That is why I chose you."
Kaelith bowed. "Vice-Master, forgive my ignorance. Why me? I was weaker than all of them."
Her gaze sharpened. "Weaker? Perhaps. But strength of flesh and blood is fleeting. What I saw was will. You burned while others coasted. You endured while others mocked. You bled, and yet your spirit only climbed higher. That spirit flame is rarer than talent or bloodline."
She stepped closer, her voice lowering. "That is why I claimed you. Your soul's defiance cannot be taught. It can only be tempered."
Kaelith's chest tightened. For the first time since his regression, someone looked at him not as trash or failure, but as something worthy.
Sylara turned, her robes sweeping like midnight wings. "Come. There is more you must know."
---
She led him to a secluded courtyard behind the instructor's halls. Ancient stone statues lined the walls, guardians of ages past, their features worn but still radiating solemn power.
Sylara stopped before one of the statues, her hands clasped behind her back.
"The first trial was merely a measure of endurance. The true tests are yet to come. The next is in two months' time. And unlike this one, it is meant for disciples at Tier Seven or higher."
Kaelith's breath caught. Tier Seven? He had only clawed his way to Tier Nine before entering the academy. Even with his relentless training, the gap was enormous.
She glanced at him. "Do you understand what this means?"
Kaelith nodded slowly. "If I remain as I am, I will be eliminated."
"Correct." Her voice was blunt, merciless. "And worse — your clan will be shamed, your name erased, and my claim on you as a disciple will be ridiculed. I do not tolerate failure."
Her words cut like blades, but Kaelith did not flinch.
Failure…? No. Not again. Never again.
He straightened. "Then I must rise to Tier Seven in two months."
A faint smile touched her lips. "Good. You do not cower before impossibility."
---
She raised her hand, and a jade vial appeared between her fingers. Inside lay a single glowing pill, its surface etched with golden veins, radiating a faint medicinal fragrance.
"This is your reward for surviving the first trial," she said. "A Vermilion Spirit Pill. It will cleanse your spirit veins, mend your injuries, and grant a burst of growth in your cultivation. Normally, it would be wasted on one so weak. But in your case…"
She extended it toward him. "…it is fuel for your fire."
Kaelith accepted the vial with both hands, bowing his head. "I will not waste it."
"See that you don't. Swallow it here. I will guide the flow."
Without hesitation, Kaelith uncorked the vial and tipped the pill into his mouth. The moment it touched his tongue, molten heat flooded his throat and surged into his veins like wildfire. His body convulsed, spirit energy roaring violently through him.
"Sit," Sylara commanded, pressing her palm lightly against his back. "Focus. Do not resist — shape it!"
Kaelith dropped cross-legged onto the stone floor, his teeth gritted as the storm raged within him. Energy clawed at his meridians, threatening to tear them apart. Sweat poured down his brow. His muscles quaked.
But behind him, Sylara's presence was steady, calm, immovable. Her spirit power wrapped around his like a cage of iron, directing the chaos, taming the wild surge.
"Breathe," she said. "Pull the flames into your core. Do not let them scatter."
Kaelith inhaled sharply, drawing the raging heat into his dantian. Slowly, painfully, the chaos condensed. His veins throbbed, his bones resonated, his very soul seemed to vibrate.
And then — boom.
A surge of power erupted from him, slamming outward like a tidal wave before vanishing back inside. His aura stabilized, clearer, sharper, stronger.
Sylara withdrew her hand and studied him with a faint nod. "You have stepped firmly into Tier Eight. Not enough, but a start."
Kaelith exhaled, his chest heaving. His body felt lighter, his veins cleansed, his spirit power flowing more smoothly than ever before. Yet the weight of her words remained.
Tier Eight. Two months to reach Tier Seven — a chasm still daunting.
He looked up at her. "Master, the gap is vast. How can I…"
"You will not do it alone." Her eyes gleamed like silver fire. "For the next two months, you will train under my hand. Day and night. You will not sleep. You will not rest. I will break you, burn you, and forge you until you are steel. Pills will aid you, but willpower will be your true foundation."
Her voice grew colder, sharper. "The Zenith Clan will be there. The Drakonis Clan as well. Their heirs will dominate the next trial. If you wish to survive against them, you must not simply reach Tier Seven. You must learn to stand where others kneel, to burn where others smother."
Kaelith bowed deeply, his voice steady. "I understand. I will not fail you."
Sylara studied him for a long moment, then turned away, her robe swirling.
"Good. Then prepare yourself, Kaelith Varion. In two months, the academy will see not a failure… but my disciple."
---
That night, as Kaelith sat alone in the courtyard, his spirit still humming from the Vermilion Pill's fire, he clenched his fists.
Tier Eight. Two months. Against the strongest clans.
His lips curved into a faint, bloody smile.
Then let them come.