The sky above Veytra split with thunder as Kael descended.
Not charging.
Not roaring.
Just falling—slowly—like judgment given gravity.
Below him, the Ten Elders finally moved.
They had watched heroes rise and rot for centuries. They had presided over ordeals, trials, and rituals meant to thin the world of ambition. They had assumed Kael Stormheart would be another bright spark to be extinguished.
They were wrong.
"FORM THE CIRCLE," boomed Elder Pyroclast, magma spilling from his shoulders.
"DO NOT LET HIM ISOLATE US."
Too late.
Kael hit the central platform and the impact sent a ring of lightning across the marble. His Demidrake form flared halfway—horns outlined in stormlight, scales ghosting across his arms, eyes burning a calm, predatory blue.
"Council of Elders," Kael said evenly. "I was told this was the Ordeal."
Loki's voice chimed in, delighted.
"It is, Master. For them."
The First Fal
Elder Zephyrion struck first, wind compressing into invisible blades meant to decapitate. Kael didn't dodge.
He stepped into the wind.
Storm Sense ignited.
The air slowed.
Kael twisted, Thunderblade carving a spiral of lightning that unraveled Zephyrion's control
One grab.
One surge.
The elder screamed—not in pain, but in realization—as his essence was torn free and absorbed. The wind died instantly
Silence rippled through the city.
Grey gasped softly. "Oh… that was very fast."
The Ordeal Break
The elders panicked.
Sireneth sang—a weaponized aria meant to dominate minds—but Grey hummed back without thinking. The two melodies collided. Sireneth's voice cracked, her knees buckling as sleep overtook her.
Ylva froze her mid-note.
Kael didn't even look as he reached out and absorbed her power.
Two.
Clockwork tried to rewind time around himself. Necroptor's chaos clones flooded the mechanism with paradoxes, gears screaming as logic failed
"WHY DOES NOTHING WORK AS PLANNED?!" Clockwork howled.
"Because you planned," Necroptor snapped.
Kael consumed him next.
Three.
They Try to Flee
That was when the remaining elders understood the truth.
This wasn't a trial.
This was a harvest.
Chimeron, Glitterfang, and Toxis attempted to escape together, fusing their powers into a grotesque chimera of poison, light, and rage.
Fjorn intercepted them mid-air, freezing their limbs one by one.
Ylva reinforced the ice.
Stormbreaker's mast fired a lightning beam that pinned them to the sky.
Kael flew.
Not falling this time.
Flying.
Wings of storm fully formed, lightning feathered and vast.
He passed through the chimera like a blade through mist.
When he emerged, only drifting motes of Dajin essence remained.
Six. Seven. Eight.
The Last Two
Only Pyroclast and Shadovar remained.
Shadovar tried shadows. Loki laughed and inverted probability, forcing every shadow to betray its owner. Pyroclast roared and burned, collapsing half the platform in fury.
Kael walked through the flames.
"No more councils," he said quietly.
Two strikes.
Two absorptions.
Ten.
The sky cleared.
Aftermath
The city of Veytra watched in stunned silence as Kael hovered above the ruins, lightning fading into a calm glow. The Ordeal—spoken of in whispers for centuries—was over.
Grey hovered beside him, clutching his paintbrush.
"…Did we do something bad?"
Kael laughed softly. "No, Grey. We ended something that was already dead."
Loki stretched, satisfied. "And fed everyone nicely."
Below, Dajin knelt—not in fear, but in relief.
The elders were gone.
History had refused to kneel.
And Kael Stormheart had eaten it anyway.