Morgath strode confidently toward the entrance of the Guardians of Order sect. The towering gates loomed before him, flanked by two guards dressed in the sect's signature armor—sleek yet functional, designed for both defense and mobility. Their eyes followed his approach, alert yet composed. As he neared, one of them raised a hand, signaling Morgath to stop.
"Halt," the guard said in a firm tone. "Are you a fellow disciple of the sect?"
Morgath shook his head. "Not yet," he replied. "I wish to enroll."
The guard exchanged a glance with his partner, then looked back at Morgath. "You'll need to speak with someone from recruitment. We'll call someone to take you in for an interview."
Morgath nodded in understanding, waiting as one of the guards stepped aside and spoke into a communication device. Moments later, a woman in her late twenties emerged from one of the nearby buildings. Her long hair was tied back neatly, and her attire bore the insignia of the sect.
"This way," she said, motioning for Morgath to follow.
He fell in step behind her, the gates creaking open as they passed through. The sect's compound was vast, with stone buildings spread out over manicured grounds. Students and disciples trained in various courtyards, the sound of clashing swords and intense focus permeating the air. Morgath's gaze swept across the grounds, but he kept his thoughts inward, focused on the task at hand.
They soon reached a small, windowless room in one of the central buildings. The woman motioned for him to sit.
"Wait here," she said curtly. "Someone will be with you shortly."
Morgath took a seat, his hands resting on his knees, his mind steady and calm. He wasn't sure what the sect's recruitment process entailed, but he was confident in his abilities. He had trained hard, grown stronger, and learned much in the past months. His goal was simple: to continue learning under Kenji, his former swordsmanship instructor, who had joined the sect.
After a few minutes, the door opened again, and a second woman stepped inside. She was older, perhaps in her early thirties, with an air of authority about her. She wore a more ornate version of the sect's attire, a subtle indication of her rank within the organization.
"I am Elara," she introduced herself, her voice cool and measured. "I oversee the recruitment process for the sect. I assume you are here to apply?"
Morgath nodded. "Yes. I wish to join the sect."
Elara raised an eyebrow slightly, her gaze piercing as she regarded him. "And what is your reason for wanting to join the Guardians of Order?"
Morgath met her gaze unflinchingly. "While I will obviously do my part in maintaining peace if I join, my primary reason is personal. I wish to continue my training under Kenji, the swordsmanship instructor who recently joined you."
Elara's expression didn't change, but there was a slight flicker of interest in her eyes. "You're one of the few who speaks the truth so openly," she said. "Most come here with grandiose claims about saving the world, but their true motivations lie elsewhere. However, I must inform you that Kenji had quickly become one of our best teachers. A person like you, who hasn't absorbed even one spiritual stone, isn't worthy of his instruction."
Morgath's eyes widened slightly in surprise. How did she know I haven't absorbed any spiritual stones? he wondered.
The system's voice chimed in his mind, explaining that almost everyone in the mana-infused world now possessed the ability to inspect those of lower or equal rank. It was a skill Morgath had not yet developed, largely because he had spent most of his time with his parents or in isolation, limiting his exposure to other people.
Morgath refocused on Elara, his surprise fading. "Could you convey a message to Kenji? Let him know that I'm here and that I wish to continue our sparring sessions. He'll surely accept."
Elara's lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. "Kenji may have some freedom in choosing whom he teaches, but he is still an employee of the sect. We cannot afford to have him waste time on someone who cannot contribute much to our cause."
Morgath frowned. "That's a hurdle, but if I can prove my worth, will that change your stance?"
Elara leaned back in her chair, clearly intrigued. "And how do you propose to prove your worth?"
"By defeating one of your best in combat," Morgath replied without hesitation. "If I can hold my own against one of your top fighters, that should be proof enough."
Her smile widened, this time with a trace of amusement. "Very well. If someone agrees to humor you, I'll allow it. But you'll soon realize the gap that separates you from them."
Word quickly spread through the sect, and it didn't take long for a volunteer to step forward—a young man named Ravon, known for his arrogance and prowess in combat. He was eager to teach Morgath a lesson, convinced that this newcomer wouldn't last more than a few seconds against him.
By late afternoon, a small crowd had gathered at one of the training grounds. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows as the area was cleared for the upcoming fight. Elara stood to the side, watching with mild interest, while Ravon strutted into the center, his sword gleaming in the fading light.
Morgath arrived shortly after, his expression calm, though inwardly he was preparing for a difficult battle. He knew little about Ravon's abilities, but he could feel the palpable arrogance emanating from the young man.
A small, wiry man stood nearby, clearly the designated healer. Morgath didn't know how skilled the man was, but he had heard whispers that he possessed a Tier 3 healing spell. Not that it mattered—Morgath didn't intend to get injured if he could help it.
The crowd buzzed with anticipation as Morgath and Ravon faced off. Ravon's strength was slightly higher than Morgath's, likely in exchange for some other attribute. It reminded Morgath of the thug he had fought months ago, but this battle was different. Ravon was no mere street thug—he was trained, skilled, and confident.
The fight began with a flurry of swift strikes, both combatants moving with speed and precision. Morgath's perception allowed him to read Ravon's movements, but the young man's strength gave him an advantage in close quarters. Their swords clashed again and again, neither able to gain the upper hand.
Minutes passed, and the crowd grew restless. Murmurs spread through the onlookers—how could someone who hadn't absorbed a single spiritual stone be holding his own against one of their top disciples?
One onlooker finally voiced what others were thinking. "He's stronger than he should be. How is he doing this?"
Elara, watching from the sidelines, narrowed her eyes in curiosity. There was something unusual about Morgath, something she hadn't accounted for. Kenji had also been stronger than his cultivation level indicated, but not to this extent. "Are their strengths somehow connected, given their relationship?" she wondered.
As the battle dragged on, Ravon grew more reckless, his frustration mounting. He couldn't believe he was struggling against someone without any cultivation. His attacks became sloppier, more aggressive, and Morgath seized the opportunity.
With a well-timed counter, Morgath disarmed Ravon, severing the hand that held his sword. The crowd gasped in shock, and for a moment, there was complete silence. The referee snapped out of his stupor, quickly declaring the match over.
The healer rushed forward, his hands glowing with mana as he reattached Ravon's severed hand. Morgath watched as the healer worked, noting the fluidity and speed with which he cast the Tier 3 spell. The man was skilled, no doubt about it.
Ravon, though healed, was livid. He glared at Morgath with a look that promised trouble in the future. Morgath could feel the intensity of his hatred and wondered why someone with such a personality hadn't been expelled from the sect already.
Before Morgath could dwell on the thought, a familiar voice called out from the crowd. "Morgath!"
Kenji emerged, his expression a mix of surprise and admiration. "You've grown much stronger since our last meeting."
The crowd murmured in astonishment, realizing that Morgath had some kind of connection to Kenji, one of the sect's most respected teachers.
Kenji walked over to Morgath, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come with me. We have much to discuss."
Morgath smiled, grateful for the familiar presence. "I'll join you in a moment. There's something I need to take care of first."
Kenji nodded, telling Morgath where he could find him later, before leaving the training grounds.
Morgath approached Elara, who looked flustered. "So," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Am I now worthy of receiving some training time with my old master?"
Elara stammered for a moment before finding her voice. "Yes, yes… you're more than qualified. But how are you this strong? And if you're this capable, why haven't you absorbed any spiritual stones to advance?"
Morgath shrugged, offering a half-truth. "I did acquire some stones, but I wanted to accomplish a few things before absorbing them. As for my strength… maybe it's due to a unique physique."
Elara seemed to accept his explanation, though her eyes held a lingering doubt. Morgath didn't stick around long enough for her to ask more questions. With a nod, he turned and headed in the direction Kenji had indicated, eager to reunite with his former master and catch up on everything that had happened since their last meeting.
As he walked away, Morgath couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He had proven his worth, and the sect had no choice but to acknowledge his strength. He also got something out of this situation, he already felt that, thanks to this battle, his skills had increased. But more importantly, he had earned the opportunity to continue his journey under Kenji's guidance, and he was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.