Raiden sat beneath the vast canopy of the ancient tree that overlooked his secluded training spot. The towering branches shielded him from the midday sun, casting cool shadows around him. His breathing was controlled, slow and rhythmic, as he sat cross-legged on the grass, eyes closed in concentration. Despite the calm exterior, Raiden's mind was a storm of thoughts, swirling around his Chaos Root. The recent discovery of its true nature had left him both thrilled and anxious.
He focused inward, attempting to feel the flow of energy within him. The Chaos Root was nothing like the spirit roots he'd learned about as a child. It was vast, almost incomprehensible in its complexity, constantly shifting in ways he couldn't fully grasp. Every time he thought he had a handle on it, it would change—slipping away like water through his fingers. Yet, amidst the challenges, there was potential. He could feel it. He wasn't the weak, low-level cultivator that everyone believed him to be. He was more.
But progress was slow.
As he drew the energy into his body, he felt resistance—like trying to push through thick, viscous mud. His muscles tensed as frustration threatened to break his focus. This was always the case. No matter how much he trained, no matter how many hours he poured into cultivation, the growth felt agonizingly sluggish. Yet, he couldn't afford to give up.
His mind wandered back to his place within the Rael family. Despite bearing their name, he had always been seen as an outsider. His half-brother, Torrin, had made sure of that. Torrin, with his deity-level fire spirit roots, was hailed as the future of the family. He was strong, confident, and proud—the perfect heir in everyone's eyes. And then there was Raiden, the weak, pitiful half-brother whose only role was to be a stepping stone.
Raiden's hands clenched into fists as he recalled Torrin's latest insult.
"Still struggling, little brother?" Torrin's voice echoed in his mind, dripping with condescension. "You should stop embarrassing yourself. No matter how much you try, you'll never amount to anything. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll be a good servant one day."
That had been in front of the others, of course. Torrin always made sure there was an audience when he humiliated Raiden. It didn't matter if it was a small group of guards, passing servants, or even fellow clan members—Torrin relished every opportunity to remind everyone of Raiden's inferiority. Yet Raiden had stayed silent, his eyes burning with quiet determination as he swallowed the words he wanted to hurl back. He couldn't afford to lash out, not now, not until he was ready.
A slight rustle of wind drew Raiden out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes, letting out a deep breath. His surroundings came back into focus—the cool shade of the tree, the rustling leaves, and the distant sound of running water from the nearby stream. He rose slowly, dusting off his clothes. There was no use in dwelling on Torrin's words. He needed to stay focused on his training.
As he made his way back toward the family estate, he passed by a group of clan members gathered near the entrance. Their hushed whispers caught his attention.
"Did you hear about Lillia? They say she's been training non-stop," one of them said.
"Of course. With saint-level spirit roots, she's practically unbeatable. Everyone's expecting her and Torrin to form an alliance soon."
"That would be a powerful union. Deity-level fire and saint-level ice? They'd be unstoppable."
Raiden slowed his pace as he heard Lillia's name. He'd seen her around, of course. She was hard to miss. Dark milk chocolate skin, raven hair that flowed like silk, and a sharp gaze that commanded attention. Lillia was a prodigy, a fact everyone knew. Her saint-level spirit roots and mutated ice element made her one of the strongest in the region, and many believed she was destined for greatness alongside Torrin.
Raiden didn't linger on their conversation, continuing his walk. Just as he neared the gates of the estate, he saw her—Lillia herself, walking with a small entourage of followers. Her eyes, cold and piercing, scanned the area before they landed on him. For a brief moment, their gazes met, and Raiden could feel the weight of her contempt.
"You," she called out, her voice sharp as ice. "Still pretending to be a cultivator, Raiden? How pathetic."
Her followers snickered, their laughter like daggers in his back. Lillia didn't wait for a response. She turned and walked away, her cold presence lingering in the air like frostbite.
Raiden's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. He wasn't in the mood for a confrontation, not now. He had expected this from her. Lillia was known for her sharp tongue and disdain for weakness. To her, Raiden was nothing more than a waste of space, an insect barely worth noticing.
As she and her group disappeared into the distance, Raiden exhaled slowly, pushing away the sting of her words. One day, things would be different. He wasn't weak, no matter what they all thought. He just had to bide his time.
Raiden's quiet training continued in the days that followed. He spent hours in the secluded spot by the ancient tree, pushing himself further, reaching deeper into his Chaos Root's potential. Progress was still slow, but there were moments—small, fleeting moments—where he felt the power within him stir. It was like a coiled dragon, waiting to be unleashed.
One evening, while practicing his meditation, Raiden felt a sudden shift. The energy flowing through his body changed, becoming more fluid, more natural. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make him pause. Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes and looked down at his hands. They were glowing faintly with a soft, multicolored light—the telltale sign of his Chaos Root reacting to his cultivation.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn't much, but it was progress.
As the days passed, Raiden remained under the radar, continuing his training in secret. He didn't let Torrin's taunts or Lillia's insults get to him. His focus was singular—becoming stronger, preparing for the day he would have to prove himself. The Clan Gathering loomed on the horizon, and with it, the chance to finally show the world what he was truly capable of.