The morning sun spilled across Azura's white-stone palace, painting the banners of the kingdom in hues of gold and crimson. Soldiers still guarded the gates, but within the throne hall, a different kind of farewell was unfolding.
Kael stood before the Azure King, his robes cleaned though his body still bore faint aches from battle. Beside him were Vice Master Sylara, calm and sharp as ever, and towering above them both — Academy Master Arathor, whose presence alone made the chamber feel too small.
"You've done well," the King said, his voice echoing with pride. "You've proven yourself not only in battle, but in will. May the heavens watch your steps from here."
Kael bowed deeply. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
The King's eyes then shifted to Arathor. "Take care of that boy, brother. He is… special."
Arathor chuckled. "He's not a boy anymore. He's a blade. And blades are forged best in fire."
With those final words, the trio stepped out into the courtyard. The air hummed with energy. Kael adjusted his cloak, expecting the long march back to the Academy — days, if not weeks of travel.
But then Arathor simply raised his hand.
"Hold on."
Kael blinked. "What do you mea—"
The Academy Master grabbed his shoulder, his other hand gripping Sylara's. And then—
The world shattered.
The sky blurred into streaks of light. The ground beneath them ceased to exist. Space itself screamed as they tore through it, the wind clawing at Kael's face, his body barely holding together under the unbearable force.
It wasn't flying. It wasn't running.
It was erasure.
They were here, and then they were not, crossing leagues faster than thought itself.
Kael's chest seized, every organ rattling, his eyes watering as the world bent into nothing.
And then—
They stopped.
The marble steps of the Arathor Academy sprawled before him. Disciples sparred in the courtyards. Elders moved between halls. It was as though they had never left.
Kael stumbled forward, gasping. "Ahhh… what… just happened?!"
His legs trembled, his qi still spinning wildly inside him. It took everything not to collapse.
Sylara stood steady, brushing a speck of dust off her shoulder. Her calm expression never wavered.
Kael stared at her in disbelief. "You… you're not fazed at all?!"
She glanced at him, a flicker of amusement dancing across her lips. "You'll get used to it. That was only a glimpse of what true power looks like."
Arathor's deep laugh rolled over them. "To you, Kael, it felt like the world was ending. To me, it was simply… walking home."
Kael swallowed hard. "Walking home? That was— that was faster than light!"
"Not faster," Arathor corrected, his eyes gleaming. "Beyond."
---
Return of the Master
Word spread like wildfire through the Academy. By the time Arathor, Sylara, and Kael reached the great gates, elders and instructors were already assembled, bowing deeply.
"Welcome back, Academy Master!"
The air shook with the voices of dozens of powerful cultivators, their loyalty etched into every word.
Arathor raised a hand, silencing them. His gaze swept the assembly, calm yet heavy as a mountain.
"The Shadow Clan Master is dead," he declared.
Gasps erupted through the elders. Some exchanged looks of relief, others of shock.
"However," Arathor continued, his tone sharpening like a blade, "do not grow complacent. His death is not the end. It is the beginning. His message will already be reaching the ears of their hidden spies. Here. In my Academy."
Murmurs rippled. The words cut through the disciples training in the courtyard, though they didn't understand the weight behind them. Only the elders and instructors knew the truth — and they bowed their heads, faces grim.
Vice Master Sylara stepped forward. "We must prepare. The Third Trial begins tomorrow. Every student must be ready. But remember this — shadows still linger among us. Watch, and do not be deceived."
Arathor's gaze turned toward Kael briefly, just enough for him to feel the weight of unspoken trust.
---
The Calm Before Trial Three
By nightfall, the Academy was alive with preparation. Torches burned brighter than usual. Instructors barked orders at disciples. Armories opened, distributing weapons for the trials.
Kael stood outside his quarters, looking up at the moon. His body still ached from Azura, his mind replaying the impossible speed of Arathor's travel.
"That's the kind of strength I need," he whispered. "To cross worlds with a thought… to fight gods without fear. I will get there."
He clenched his fists. His aura flickered, the faint echo of his Aura Farming technique still humming inside him.
Tomorrow would be the Third Trial — the year-long challenge every disciple feared. For others, it was a chance for glory. For Kael, it was survival.
He could almost hear the voices of the other clans, who doesn't like him,mocking him, sneering at the "weakest son" of the Veynar.
But tomorrow, they would see.
Tomorrow, he would harvest again.
---
Council of Elders
Within the Elder Hall, Arathor sat at the head of the long obsidian table, the King's gift of ages past. Around him, the elders of the Academy stood in solemn silence.
"You know what must be done," Arathor said, his voice a low rumble. "The Shadow Clan believes us weakened. They believe their spies still unseen. Tomorrow, we prove otherwise. The trials will proceed as planned."
An elder with silver hair stepped forward. "But Master, what if they strike during the trials? The students—"
"They will learn," Arathor interrupted, his eyes flashing. "The world will not wait for them to be ready. Neither will the shadows. If they cannot face death in the trial ground, they will never face it beyond."
Silence fell. No one dared argue further.
---
Kael Prepares
Back in his chamber, Kael sat cross-legged once more. The Grade Six pill continued to fortify his foundation, his meridians now smoother, his qi more stable.
He thought of the princess's words in Azura, of Sylara's steady gaze, of Arathor's laugh as he shattered space itself.
So many expectations. So many debts yet unpaid.
He pressed his palms together. "Tomorrow, no matter who mocks me… no matter who underestimates me… I will not falter."
The room darkened as his aura gathered, flames of determination wrapping around him like a cloak.
The night was long. But Kael did not sleep.
---
When the dawn bell rang across the Academy, he was already standing at the gates of the Trial Ground.