Kaelith opened his eyes slowly. The world swam into focus: white silk curtains, the faint smell of herbs, the muffled sounds of disciples training outside.
The infirmary.
He sat up, wincing as pain lanced across his ribs. His arms were wrapped in bandages, his body aching as though it had been crushed beneath a mountain.
So I survived.
Memories of the mountain battle rushed back — the assassins, the Tier Three enforcer, the blood on his hands, and finally Sylara's arrival, her light obliterating the shadows.
A shadow moved near the bed.
"You're awake."
Kaelith turned his head. Sylara stood at the side, her sharp eyes softened with rare concern.
"You were unconscious for three days," she said. "Your body was nearly torn apart. If you hadn't held on as long as you did, even I might not have arrived in time."
Kaelith exhaled slowly. "Three days…"
Sylara crossed her arms. "You've done more than most Tier Fours could even dream of. You clashed with a Tier Three and survived. That's no small feat."
Kaelith shook his head. "I didn't win. If you hadn't arrived—"
"But you lived," Sylara cut in, her gaze fierce. "Understand this, Kaelith. Sometimes, survival is the victory. You bought time, you exposed the spies, and you proved you are not the weakling they take you for. That is enough."
Kaelith lowered his gaze. But deep inside, he swore silently. Survival is not enough. One day, I will not need saving. One day, even Tier Threes will bow before me.
---
The Elders' Meeting
That evening, Kaelith was summoned. Despite his injuries, he walked into the council hall, his steps steady.
The chamber was vast, pillars etched with runes glowing faintly, and around the central table sat the academy's instructors and elders. Their faces were grim.
Elder Zarek spoke first. "So it's true. The Dark Shadow Clan has infiltrated us."
Another elder slammed his fist on the table. "And not just disciples — instructors! Traitors in our own ranks. This is an outrage!"
Sylara raised a hand. "Calm yourselves. The boy exposed them, but if panic spreads, the academy will tear itself apart from within. This matter stays between us."
Murmurs spread.
"What of the Third Trial?" one instructor asked.
"It continues," said Vice-Master Tharos firmly. His silver eyes glinted in the dim light. "If we cancel it, the spies will know we are shaken. The students must remain unaware."
Several nodded reluctantly.
Zarek frowned. "But the Dark Shadows will not stop. They failed once — they'll change their approach."
"Which is why," Sylara said, her voice cold, "we will be ready."
Kaelith spoke up. "They sought something. They mentioned the Immortal Heart Manual."
The room fell silent.
Elders exchanged tense looks. The manual was no mere treasure — it was a legend, a scripture said to transform mortal hearts into immortal vessels. Its existence was whispered of but never confirmed.
"So it's true," one elder muttered. "They know."
Vice-Master Tharos' voice cut like steel. "Then we cannot falter. If the Shadows believe they can worm their way into our academy, let them try. We will crush them in silence."
The meeting ended, but Kaelith could feel it: the air was heavier, the weight of unseen war pressing upon every elder.
---
The Shadows Regroup
Far from the academy, in a cavern lit by black fire, the Dark Shadow Clan gathered.
Varok, the Tier Three enforcer who had clashed with Kaelith, knelt on one knee, his face twisted in shame.
"We failed. The Vice-Master intervened."
Before him stood the Shadow Lord, a figure draped in crimson-black robes, his aura suffocating.
"You let a Tier Four child stand against you?" the Shadow Lord's voice dripped with venom.
Varok gritted his teeth. "He is not ordinary. His willpower… his Origin… he fought like a Tier Three."
The Shadow Lord's eyes narrowed. "Kaelith Varion…"
He turned to the others, cloaked generals kneeling in the dark. "The academy grows wary. We must shift our plans. Withdraw the spies, let them believe the threat has passed. When the Third Trial ends, when their defenses relax… then we strike."
The generals bowed. "Yes, my lord."
But in the shadows of the shadows, whispers spread: Kaelith's name, spoken with a mix of fear and hatred.
---
The Master's Return
The day after the elders' meeting, the academy stirred with unease. Not among the disciples — they trained as always, oblivious. But among the instructors and elders, tension thrummed like a string pulled too tight.
Then came the change.
A ripple spread across the heavens, vast and divine.
Kaelith felt it first, a pressure that made the air shiver, the earth bow. Disciples froze mid-training, animals fled into the forests, even the clouds split apart.
From beyond the horizon, a figure descended.
The Academy Master had returned.
Master Arathor, the founder and pillar of the Grand Martial Academy, strode through the gates. His hair gleamed like silver fire, his robes shimmered with divine inscriptions, and his aura…
Tier Two Demi-God. Peak.
The elders rose in unison, bowing deeply. Even Sylara and Tharos inclined their heads with respect.
Arathor's gaze swept across them, calm yet burning with silent power. "I return from the Gods Domain, and I sense… corruption."
Sylara stepped forward, her tone sharp. "Master. The Dark Shadow Clan has infiltrated us. They seek the Immortal Heart Manual."
Arathor's eyes narrowed.
"Then they test our resolve." His voice boomed like thunder, shaking the very air. "They believe we are weak, fractured. They are wrong."
The elders bowed again.
"But Master," Tharos said carefully, "the disciples—"
"They must not know," Arathor interrupted. "Fear breeds weakness. Let the Third Trial continue. If the Shadows move again, I will be here."
Relief swept through the hall. With Arathor's return, their foundation was unshakable.
But Kaelith felt the weight of his gaze.
Arathor's eyes lingered on him longer than any other. "You. The boy who faced Varok and lived."
Kaelith straightened, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Yes, Master."
Arathor's lips curved slightly. "Good. Hold that will, for it will shape storms greater than this academy."
And then he turned away, dismissing them.
---
Quiet Before the Storm
The academy continued as though nothing had changed. The disciples prepared eagerly for the Third Trial, dreaming of glory, unaware of the shadows that stalked their every step.
Kaelith returned to training, his body still aching but his spirit sharper than ever. His battle with the assassins had carved something deeper into him — the knowledge that even Tier Threes could bleed.
In the silence of night, he remembered the Shadow Lord's words, the hatred in Varok's eyes.
And he said I still need more strength, with my current strength, I am not strong enough