The days following Kael's trial in the Abyss were grueling. Each morning began with rigorous training under the Sovereign's watchful eye. Kael's body ached with every movement, but he pushed through the pain, driven by the promise of power and a future where he could control his cursed Qi. Though the Obsidian Altar stood as a rekindled beacon of their cause, its power was faint. The Sovereign had made it clear that their path forward required allies, artifacts, and most importantly, strength.
One evening, as the dim light of the perpetual gray sky began to wane, Kael sat cross-legged near the altar, his broken sword resting beside him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the flow of his Qi. The Sovereign's voice echoed in his mind from earlier that day: "Qi is not merely energy. It is life, intent, and will. To master it, you must first understand yourself."
Kael exhaled slowly, letting his thoughts drift. The chaotic energy within him roiled like a storm, wild and unyielding. For years, he had fought against it, fearing what it might do if he let it take control. But now, he tried something different. He didn't fight it. He let it flow, guiding it carefully like a river redirected by steady hands. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of balance—then pain ripped through him, breaking his concentration.
"Good," the Sovereign said, his deep voice startling Kael. He stood a few steps away, watching him with an intensity that made the air feel heavier. "You are beginning to grasp the nature of your Qi. Balance will not come easily, but you have taken the first step."
Kael wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing uneven. "I feel like it's fighting me. Like it doesn't want to listen."
The Sovereign stepped closer, his presence commanding Kael's full attention. "That is because it doesn't. Dark Qi is not passive like other forms. It is chaos, raw and untamed. To wield it, you must impose your will upon it. Bend it to your purpose, or it will destroy you."
Kael nodded, determination hardening his features. "I'll keep trying."
"Good," the Sovereign said, turning his gaze to the horizon. "Because soon, you will need every ounce of strength you can muster."
A New Threat
The Sovereign's words proved prophetic. That night, as Kael rested fitfully near the altar, he was jolted awake by a low, rumbling sound. He sat up quickly, his hand instinctively reaching for his broken sword.
"What's happening?" he asked, his voice laced with alarm.
The Sovereign stood at the edge of the altar, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. "We have visitors."
Kael scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. In the distance, faint lights flickered like fireflies, growing steadily brighter as they approached. A group of cultivators emerged from the gloom, their weapons glinting in the faint light. At their head was a man dressed in dark robes adorned with gold trim, his expression one of cold confidence.
"Well, well," the man said, his voice carrying a mocking tone. "What do we have here? A boy and a ghost playing at power?"
The Sovereign's gaze bore into him, unflinching. "You trespass on sacred ground. Leave now, and I may allow you to live."
The man laughed, a harsh sound that echoed across the altar. "Sacred ground? This ruin is nothing but a relic of a long-dead sect. And you…" He gestured toward the Sovereign. "You're nothing but a relic yourself."
Kael gripped his sword tightly, his anger rising. "You don't know who you're talking to."
The man's eyes shifted to Kael, a sneer curling his lips. "And what are you supposed to be? A stray dog picked up by a corpse?"
Before Kael could respond, the Sovereign raised a hand, silencing him with a single gesture. "You have made your choice," he said, his tone as cold as the air around them. "And now, you will face the consequences."
The Sovereign's Might
The Sovereign stepped forward, his presence suffocating. Shadows began to ripple across the ground, gathering around him like a living tide. The cultivators hesitated, their confidence faltering as the air grew heavier.
The leader snarled, drawing a gleaming blade from his side. "Don't just stand there! Kill them!"
The group charged, their weapons flashing as they moved to strike. But the Sovereign didn't flinch. With a single motion, he raised his hand, and the shadows surged forward like a wave, slamming into the attackers with the force of a hurricane.
Kael watched in awe as the Sovereign moved with inhuman speed, his blade of shadows materializing in his hand. He struck with precision, each swing sending tendrils of dark energy slicing through the air. The cultivators fell one by one, their cries of pain echoing across the altar.
The leader remained standing, though his confidence had turned to fear. He raised his blade defensively, his hands trembling. "W-wait! We didn't mean—"
The Sovereign's blade pierced the man's chest before he could finish. He collapsed to the ground, his body crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut.
Kael stood frozen, his broken sword hanging limply in his hand. The Sovereign turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Do you understand now?" he asked. "This is the strength of the Dominion. This is what you must strive for."
Kael swallowed hard, nodding. "I... I understand."
A Warning in Blood
As the bodies of the fallen cultivators lay scattered around the altar, the Sovereign knelt beside their leader, his crimson eyes glowing faintly. He reached out, placing a hand on the man's chest. Shadows coiled around his fingers, pulling fragments of energy and memory from the lifeless body.
"What are you doing?" Kael asked, his voice tinged with unease.
"Extracting knowledge," the Sovereign replied. "These men were sent by someone. I want to know who."
The shadows dissipated, and the Sovereign rose to his feet, his expression grim. "A minor sect, the Emberlight Clan. They've taken notice of our presence and sent this group to investigate."
Kael frowned. "Will they send more?"
"Undoubtedly," the Sovereign said. "But that is of no concern. Let them come. The stronger the opposition, the greater the opportunities for us to grow."
Kael glanced at the bodies, a chill running down his spine. For the first time, he began to grasp the magnitude of what he had become part of. The path ahead was steep, and the stakes were higher than he had imagined. But despite his fear, he felt a strange sense of excitement. This was the beginning of something greater.
The Sovereign turned back to the altar, his voice calm but resolute. "Cleanse this place of their taint. Tomorrow, we begin preparing for war."
End of Chapter 4