Raiden paced the length of his room, his hands clasped behind his back as he mulled over the information he had gathered. It had been nearly a week since he had awoken in this unfamiliar world, in this unfamiliar body, and every day, his understanding of it grew deeper. His spirit roots, once thought to be low-level and useless, were anything but ordinary. They were dormant, yes, but their potential was far beyond what anyone had ever seen.
The Rael family had written him off as a failure, a disgrace to the family name, but Raiden knew better now. The knowledge from his previous life allowed him to see through the veil of ignorance that surrounded him. His spirit roots—low-level by classification—were not merely tied to one element but to five. Each of the mutated elements, considered rarer and stronger than the main five elements of fire, water, earth, air, and metal, resided within him. Ice, lightning, nature, wind, and blood—each had merged into something more profound, a fusion that neither this world nor its cultivators had ever encountered.
No one had noticed, of course. They assumed his roots were weak because they lacked the brilliance of the more traditional, singular roots. It suited Raiden just fine. He would grow, silently and in the shadows, until the time was right to reveal his true strength.
There was a knock at his door, snapping Raiden from his thoughts. He straightened, a mask of indifference slipping over his features. "Enter."
The door creaked open, revealing Seren, her brow furrowed in concern. "Brother, I've been told that Father has summoned you to the Great Hall."
Raiden met her gaze, his greenish-silver eyes sharp and unreadable. "Do you know why?"
Seren shook her head. "I'm not sure. But it's likely related to the upcoming Clan Gathering."
Ah, the Clan Gathering. Raiden had nearly forgotten. In two months, the Rael family would host a gathering of allied and rival clans alike, a display of power and prestige. The young talents of each family would compete to showcase their abilities, and the Rael clan, being one of the most influential, always expected to stand above the rest.
Raiden knew his participation would be inevitable. As the eldest son of the Rael family, expectations, despite his presumed weakness, would fall on him. The irony wasn't lost on him. They wanted him to fail, to serve as an example of what happened to those with weak spirit roots, but Raiden had no intention of playing along with their plans.
"I'll go see him," Raiden said, his voice calm.
Seren reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. "Be careful, Brother. Father is not in the best of moods."
Raiden gave her a small nod before heading toward the Great Hall.
The Great Hall of the Rael family estate was an imposing structure, with tall stone columns and intricately carved wooden beams that spoke of ancient power and history. Raiden entered the hall with measured steps, his presence immediately drawing the attention of those present.
At the head of the room sat Raiden's father, the Rael family head. His dark eyes were hard, set in a face that was sharp and cold. He was a man who ruled with an iron fist, demanding excellence from his children, and Raiden had been his greatest disappointment.
"Raiden," the family head spoke, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "I'm surprised to see you up and about."
Raiden inclined his head slightly. "I've recovered."
The family head's eyes narrowed. "Good. Then you will participate in the Clan Gathering."
There was no question in his tone, only command.
Raiden met his father's gaze, unwavering. "As you wish."
A murmur ran through the hall. Some of the Rael family members seated on either side of the family head exchanged glances, clearly amused. Raiden's participation was seen as a formality, a way to highlight the true talents of the family while he served as the scapegoat.
"See that you don't embarrass us," his father added, his tone laced with warning. "The other families will not be so kind if you show weakness."
Raiden's lips twitched into a faint smile. "I understand."
The family head waved a hand, dismissing Raiden. "That will be all."
Raiden turned to leave, but as he did, his gaze caught the figure of Torrin, his half-brother, lounging in one of the seats. Torrin's eyes gleamed with malice, a smug smile playing at the corners of his lips. He had always been one of Raiden's most vocal critics, never missing an opportunity to mock or belittle him. Torrin's talent with fire spirit roots had earned him a place of favor within the family, and he wielded that status with pride.
"Careful, Brother," Torrin called, his voice dripping with mock concern. "You wouldn't want to get hurt before the Gathering."
Raiden paused for a moment, his greenish-silver eyes locking onto Torrin's. He said nothing, but the intensity of his gaze sent a ripple of discomfort through the hall. Then, without a word, he turned and left.
Raiden stepped out of the Great Hall and into the cool evening air. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the courtyard. His mind raced with the possibilities ahead. The Clan Gathering would be his opportunity—his chance to prove to everyone that he was more than the weakling they believed him to be.
But he would need to be careful. Torrin and others like him would be watching for any sign of weakness, eager to exploit it. Raiden knew that Torrin had no qualms about using underhanded methods to secure his place at the top.
As Raiden crossed the courtyard, he felt a presence approaching. He turned to see Lillia standing by the edge of the gardens, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. Lillia was from the Astoria family, a powerful clan known for their expertise in cultivation techniques, but a mysterious and reclusive one nonetheless . She had always carried herself with a sense of superiority, and her disdain for weakness was apparent.
"Raiden," she called, her tone neutral but with an edge of challenge.
He stopped, turning to face her fully. "Lillia."
She studied him for a moment, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. "I heard about your… recovery. I suppose you'll be participating in the Gathering now."
Raiden shrugged, his expression calm. "It seems so."
Lillia's lips curved into a smirk, but there was something behind her gaze—a flicker of curiosity, perhaps. "I'll be watching closely," she said, her voice carrying a hint of warning.
Raiden met her gaze steadily. "I'm sure you will."
For a brief moment, their eyes locked, and Raiden sensed something deeper in her tone.
Without another word, Lillia turned and walked away, her robes billowing behind her like a dark cloud.
Raiden watched her go, his mind calculating the steps ahead. The Gathering would be his stage, and he would ensure that when the time came, Lillia and the rest of them would see him for what he truly was.
As the two-month countdown to the Clan Gathering began, Raiden devoted himself to training, his nights spent in solitude, refining the ancient scripture that would unlock the power within his spirit roots. Every cycle of cultivation brought him closer to awakening the full potential of his five-element mutated roots, the power merging and growing more potent with each passing day.
But he wasn't alone in his efforts. The Rael estate buzzed with activity as young cultivators from allied families arrived to train and prepare for the event. Among them was Torrin, his fiery spirit roots flaring as he sparred with other disciples, always eager to demonstrate his superiority. Raiden watched from the shadows, studying his half-brother's movements, noting his strengths and weaknesses. Torrin's arrogance would be his downfall.
The days stretched into weeks, the tension building as the Gathering approached. Whispers filled the halls—speculation about who would rise to the top and who would fall. Raiden kept his head down, his movements measured and discreet, always aware of the eyes on him.