The days bled into nights, and nights into days. Kaelith scarcely noticed.
Since the descent of the Origin Sigil, he had cultivated without pause, his soul burning with alien fire. Spirit energy flowed smoother, faster, stronger. Every breath, every strike, every meditation session carved him sharper.
Vice-Master Sylara watched from the shadows of her hall as he pushed himself through sleepless nights. Sweat poured, blood stained the floor, but Kaelith did not falter.
And then — two months passed in a blink.
When the day of the Second Trial arrived, Kaelith's aura blazed like a storm held in chains.
Tier Six.
Not Tier Seven, as Sylara had aimed for. No, he had leapt beyond, propelled by the impossible fusion of the Origin Sigil. His veins pulsed with a depth that made even Sylara pause when she first sensed it.
He was Tier Six… but every strike of his fists rang with the weight of Tier Five.
---
The academy roared with life as the disciples gathered once more in the colossal trial arena. Tens of thousands filled the stands, clan banners snapping in the wind, colors of power flashing across the seats.
At the head dais, Master Orion Kaelis stood, his presence radiating authority, while Vice-Masters Sylara and Kaelen flanked him.
"The Second Trial begins now!" Orion's voice thundered, shaking the air. "The rules are simple. You will fight under the gaze of the academy. You may wound, but not kill. Victory is earned by forcing your opponent to yield, or rendering them unable to continue. This is where talent, skill, and bloodline decide worth."
Cheers erupted.
Zenith heirs smirked from their seats. Drakonis disciples cracked their knuckles, smoke curling from their lips. The Aurelius clan sat tall, Draven and Selene shining as war god and moon goddess incarnate.
And there, in the shadows, Kaelith Varion stood silent.
Mocking whispers returned like vultures.
"The failure will humiliate himself again."
"He'll collapse in the first fight."
"Vice-Master Sylara wasted her name."
Kaelith ignored them, his gaze steady on the arena floor.
Let them talk. Soon, silence will be my answer.
---
The first fights began.
Clan Ten versus Clan Nine — a brutal clash of steel and flame. One heir was smashed to the ground, coughing blood. Cheers roared.
Clan Seven clashed with Clan Five. Lightning against shadows, speed against cunning. The air shook with explosions of aura, until one heir dropped, unable to rise.
Aurelius took the stage. Draven fought first, his war aura obliterating his foe in three strikes. The crowd roared his name. Selene followed, her blade carving moonlight arcs that shredded her opponent's defenses like paper. Applause thundered.
Then Zenith stepped forth.
Their heir did not strike. He merely raised a hand. Golden light flared. His opponent collapsed instantly, body convulsing under divine pressure. Gasps echoed, awe and fear mingling.
"Zenith is untouchable…" disciples whispered.
---
And then, Kaelith's name was called.
He stepped into the arena.
The crowd hushed — then erupted in laughter.
"Him?!"
"This will be short."
"Why waste time?"
Across from him stood the heir of the Stormborn Clan, ranked eighth. A tall youth with hair like dark clouds, lightning sparking faintly across his arms. He sneered.
"Of all the opponents… they send me the Aurelius disgrace. Try not to die too quickly."
Kaelith's expression did not change. His hands rose slowly, his stance steady, measured.
The judge's voice rang. "Begin!"
---
The Stormborn heir exploded forward, lightning trailing his fist. His punch cracked the air as it shot toward Kaelith's skull.
Boom!
Kaelith's arm shot up, blocking. The impact rattled his bones, but he stood firm. Sparks danced across his skin.
The heir smirked. "Not bad. But let's see you handle this!"
Lightning flared as he spun, his leg whipping toward Kaelith's ribs.
Kaelith ducked. His fist shot upward like a cannon, slamming into the heir's gut.
Thud!
The Stormborn heir staggered back, coughing, eyes wide. "You—"
Kaelith pressed forward. His fists became storms of their own, each strike carrying weight beyond his cultivation. His footwork was precise, his blows heavy.
Right hook. Left jab. Knee to the chest. Elbow to the jaw.
The crowd gasped as the heir of the Stormborn Clan — a Tier Six fighter — was forced back step after step by the supposed Aurelius failure.
"Impossible!"
"He's… he's faster than before!"
"No… his aura… he's Tier Six?!"
Shock rippled through the arena.
---
The Stormborn heir roared, his aura exploding. Lightning engulfed him, crackling across the arena floor. "Don't mock me!"
He lunged, fists sparking, unleashing a flurry of lightning strikes. Each punch thundered like a storm unleashed.
Kaelith's body blurred. He weaved through the blows, his eyes cold. His fists snapped out in counters, each strike sinking into ribs, shoulders, stomach.
Crack! Boom! Thud!
Blood sprayed from the Stormborn heir's lip as Kaelith's knee drove into his chest, followed by a spinning kick that smashed across his jaw.
The heir staggered, his aura flickering.
Kaelith exhaled slowly. His aura surged, calm but deadly.
Tier Six. But sharper than Tier Six should ever be.
The Stormborn heir lunged again, desperate. Kaelith met him head-on.
Their fists collided. The air cracked. Lightning burst, dust exploding.
When the smoke cleared, the Stormborn heir lay sprawled unconscious on the arena floor.
Kaelith stood tall, his chest heaving, his fist lowered slowly.
Silence.
Then chaos erupted.
"He… won?!"
"The Aurelius disgrace beat Stormborn?!"
"He's Tier Six?! Impossible!"
Draven Aurelius narrowed his eyes. Selene's cold mask cracked just slightly. Zenith heirs scowled. Drakonis disciples muttered.
And on the dais, Sylara allowed the faintest curve of her lips.
---
Master Orion's voice cut through the uproar. "Victor: Kaelith Varion!"
The crowd exploded in disbelief.
But Kaelith only turned, walking calmly from the arena. He did not bow. He did not gloat. His silence screamed louder than words.
---
That night, whispers spread like wildfire.
"The Aurelius disgrace… Tier Six?"
"He fought on par with a true Stormborn heir."
"No… his strikes carried pressure like Tier Five…"
Speculation turned to fear, to doubt. And for the first time, Kaelith's name was not spoken only with scorn.
---
The announcer declared the next round. "Tomorrow, Kaelith Varion versus the heir of Clan Six, Crimson Lotus."
Gasps echoed. Crimson Lotus was ruthless, famed for spirit arts as deadly as fire.
And beyond them, the schedule revealed his third match — against none other than the heir of Zenith.
The entire arena shook with anticipation.
Kaelith sat alone that night, his body aching, his veins burning faintly with the Origin Sigil's silent pulse. His lips curved into a faint, bloodied smile.
Stormborn fell. Crimson Lotus is next. And then… Zenith.
He clenched his fists.
Let the gods themselves watch. I will carve my name into this trial with my own blood.