The Azure Sky Sect was a place of order and discipline, its routines as rigid as the stone walls that surrounded it. Kael stood in the courtyard, his new disciple robe hanging loosely on his slim frame, as the morning bell rang out, signaling the start of the day. He was tall, his posture commanding despite the simplicity of his attire, and his eyes—a pale, foggy gray—seemed to pierce through everything they gazed upon.
Yet, these were not the eyes he had once known.
In another life, Kael had been a man with scarlet eyes that burned like the embers of a dying sun. They had marked him as something otherworldly, a demon who wielded the threads of causality with ruthless precision. Back then, he had been a force of nature, bending reality to his will, feared and revered in equal measure.
But that life was gone, extinguished in the collapse of the Spire. Now, he was reborn into a body unremarkable in strength, its frailty a cruel reminder of his fall from power. The threads of causality he once commanded were distant whispers, their influence diminished but not entirely severed.
Kael's gaze swept over the courtyard, observing the disciples moving with purpose, their faces a mix of determination and exhaustion. The hierarchy was clear—stronger disciples dominated, their voices loud and commanding, while weaker ones scurried to avoid their notice. It was no different from the Spire, he thought. The strong thrived, and the weak were discarded.
A group of inner disciples passed by, their laughter sharp and mocking. One of them shoved a younger disciple, sending him sprawling into the dirt. The boy scrambled to his feet, his face red with humiliation, but he said nothing.
Kael watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. He felt no pity, no anger—only a cold calculation. This one is weak, he thought. But weakness can be exploited.
"Kael!"
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Li Wei was approaching, his expression a mix of relief and apprehension. "You're supposed to be at the morning meditation. Elder Mei doesn't tolerate tardiness."
Kael nodded, his tone indifferent. "Lead the way."
As they walked, Li Wei glanced at him nervously. "You should be careful. The inner disciples... they don't like newcomers who stand out."
Kael's lips curved into a faint smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
The training ground was alive with the sounds of clashing weapons and shouted commands. Disciples sparred in pairs, their movements sharp and precise. Kael stood at the edge of the field, his eyes scanning the scene.
"Kael!"
The voice belonged to Hannah, a cocky inner disciple with a reputation for bullying newcomers. She strode over, her smirk sharp and confident. "You're up, newcomer. Let's see what you've got."
Kael stepped forward, his expression calm but his mind alert. He could feel the Luck Path stirring within him, a faint, almost imperceptible pull.
The match began, and Hannah attacked immediately, her movements fast and aggressive. Kael dodged with ease, his body moving almost instinctively. He didn't need to win this match—he just needed to survive.
But survival wasn't enough.
As Hannah lunged again, Kael subtly siphoned luck from her, causing her to stumble. Hannah's foot caught on a loose stone, and she fell to one knee, her face tight with frustration.
Kael didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his movements precise and controlled, and disarmed Hannah with a single, fluid motion.
The training ground fell silent.
Hannah glared at him, her voice taut with restrained anger. "You got lucky, newcomer. Don't think this means anything."
Kael met her gaze, his tone calm but laced with steel. "Luck is just another form of strength."
The other disciples murmured among themselves, their eyes on Kael. He could feel their curiosity, their suspicion. He had their attention now—and that was exactly what he wanted.
After the sparring match, Kael was approached by Elder Feng, a reclusive elder known for his expertise in rare cultivation techniques. The man's robes were simple but finely made, and his eyes gleamed with a sharp, calculating intelligence.
"Kael," Elder Feng said, his voice low and measured. "Your Qi is... unusual. Almost as if it's not entirely your own."
Kael met his gaze without flinching, his expression unreadable. "I'm just a new disciple, Elder Feng. I don't know what you mean."
Elder Feng smiled faintly, the gesture not reaching his eyes. "We'll see. Come to my pavilion tomorrow. I have something to show you."
Kael nodded, his tone respectful but distant. "As you wish, Elder Feng."
As the elder walked away, Kael's mind was already working. He suspects something, he thought. But he doesn't know what. I'll need to be careful.
Li Wei appeared at his side, his expression anxious. "What did Elder Feng want?"
Kael's response was calm and measured. "Nothing important. Just a conversation."
Li Wei frowned but didn't press further. Kael's thoughts, however, were already elsewhere. Elder Feng's interest was an opportunity—and a threat. He would need to tread carefully.
---
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the Azure Sky Sect's courtyards. Kael retreated to the cramped quarters assigned to him, a sparse room with a narrow cot and a single window overlooking the training grounds. The air smelled of aged wood and damp stone, a far cry from the Spire's metallic sharpness. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his back straight, his pale gray eyes fixed on the fading light outside.
Li Wei's anxious warnings echoed in his mind. "The inner disciples don't like newcomers who stand out." A smile flickered across Kael's lips. Standing out was inevitable. Survival, however, required more than brute strength—it demanded precision.
He closed his eyes, reaching inward. The threads of causality were still there, frayed and distant, like spider silk drifting in a storm. He tugged one experimentally, and a faint hum resonated in his chest—a shadow of the power that once unraveled empires. The effort left him lightheaded, his fingers trembling.
Pathetic.
But not useless.
A commotion outside drew his attention. Shouts echoed from the courtyard, followed by the sharp crack of wood against flesh. Kael rose silently and peered through the window. Below, a group of inner disciples surrounded a younger boy—the same one who'd been shoved into the dirt earlier. Their laughter was edged with cruelty as one of them raised a practice sword, aiming for the boy's ribs.
Kael's gaze hardened. Weakness invited predation. But weakness, he knew, could also be weaponized.
He descended the stairs, his movements unhurried. The disciples turned as he approached, their smirks widening.
"Look who it is," sneered the ringleader, a broad-shouldered brute with a scar across his cheek. The "lucky" newcomer. Come to play hero?"
Kael ignored him, his eyes locking onto the cowering boy. "Get up."
The boy hesitated, his face streaked with dirt and blood.
"I said," Kael repeated, his voice glacial, "get up."
The boy scrambled to his feet, trembling.
The brute stepped forward, his practice sword levelled at Kael's throat. "You think you're special? Just because Feng took an interest?"
Kael didn't flinch. "I think you're wasting my time."
The sword swung.
Kael sidestepped, his hand snapping out to seize the brute's wrist. He twisted, not with physical strength—his new body lacked that—but with a flicker of causality. The thread snapped taut, and the brute's arm jerked backward, the sword clattering to the ground.
The courtyard fell silent.
"You" the brute spat, clutching his wrist.
"Accidents happen," Kael said softly. "Especially to those who don't watch their step."
The disciples backed away, their bravado crumbling. Kael turned to the boy. "What's your name?"
"T-Tao," the boy stammered.
"Tao," Kael repeated. "Follow me."
He walked away, Tao trailing like a lost pup. Behind them, whispers erupted—hushed, fearful. Kael didn't glance back. Let them talk. Let them wonder.
In his quarters, Tao stood shaking, his gratitude palpable. "Th-thank you, Senior Brother. I—"
"Gratitude is worthless," Kael interrupted, his tone slicing through the boy's stammering. "You want to survive? Learn to be useful."
Tao nodded frantically. "Anything. I'll do anything."
Kael studied him. The boy's eyes were wide, desperate. A pawn, but pawns had their uses.
"Elder Feng," Kael said. "What do you know about him?"
Tao swallowed. "H-he collects relics. Ancient things. They say… they say disciples who enter his pavilion don't come back the same."
Or at all, Kael thought.
He dismissed Tao with a wave. Alone again, he stared at the moonlit training grounds, his mind churning. Feng's interest was no accident. The relics, the Spire's echoes—they were connected. And Kael intended to unravel that connection, thread by thread.
But first, he needed leverage.
He slipped out into the night, his shadow merging with the darkness. The sect's corridors were quiet, the air thick with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. Elder Feng's pavilion loomed ahead, its silhouette jagged against the starless sky.
A flicker of movement—a guard patrolling the entrance. Kael's fingers brushed the frayed threads of causality.
Just enough.
The guard stumbled, his head striking the doorframe as he collapsed. Kael stepped over him, silent as a shadow.
Inside, the pavilion was a labyrinth of shelves, each laden with artifacts that hummed with residual power. A cracked mirror reflected Kael's pale eyes. A rusted dagger pulsed with void-black light. And there, at the center of the room—
A shard of the Spire.
It glowed faintly, its edges jagged, its surface etched with runes Kael had written a lifetime ago. His breath caught. The shard *recognized* him.
Footsteps echoed outside.
Kael melted into the shadows as the door creaked open. Elder Feng entered, his robes whispering against the floor. He paused, his gaze sweeping the room, and for a heartbeat, his mask of calm slipped—revealing hunger, raw and insatiable.
He lifted the Spire shard, its light casting grotesque shadows across his face. "Soon," he murmured.
Kael's lips curved into a cold smile.Soon indeed.