The sun was setting on the desolate mountains surrounding the Falling Sky Sect, casting long, eerie shadows over the training grounds. The winds that once carried the sounds of proud disciples practicing their arts were now empty whispers, carrying only the sighs of those who had given up. The once glorious sect, renowned for its mastery over lightning techniques, was a pale imitation of its former self. It was in this declining institution that Kaelion Ardyn, an 18-year-old outer disciple, struggled to survive.
Kaelion's life had been a series of disappointments, each more crushing than the last. Born with no outstanding talent, he had never even been able to break past the 3rd Stage of the Body Refinement Realm. While others in the sect soared through the stages, Kaelion was stuck, his cultivation stagnant, like a river dammed by some invisible force. His body, weak and frail, lacked the strength to endure the rigorous training demanded of a disciple, and his mind, though sharp, could not compensate for the lack of innate martial talent.
He spent his days in the shadow of his peers, those who mocked him with cruel words and laughter. They called him weak, useless, and often made him the target of their pranks. He had long since learned to lower his head and avoid drawing attention, but it was impossible to escape their ridicule. The once-proud disciple had become little more than a punching bag, a reminder to others of what could happen if you weren't born with the right abilities.
Kaelion's only solace was in the quiet moments he spent alone, trying to push through the limitations of his body with sheer willpower. He had heard of those who had broken through the boundaries of their potential through sheer perseverance, but such stories were the exception, not the rule. Even so, Kaelion clung to that hope, foolishly, desperately.
As he walked down the narrow path towards the outer disciple quarters, he could already hear the laughter from the other disciples echoing from the training grounds. He knew they were talking about him again. The whispers, the snickers—it was all too familiar.
But it was today that Kaelion would face the culmination of all his suffering. Today, his torment would reach its zenith.
"Damn fool," Kaelion muttered under his breath, pushing the door to his quarters open. Inside, the small, dimly lit room felt more like a prison cell than a place of rest. A threadbare cot in the corner, a small table with a single chair, and the faint smell of mildew from the walls were the only things that filled the space. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands, which were trembling ever so slightly.
Just as he began to meditate, focusing on cultivating the energy of the Body Refinement Realm, a loud bang echoed from outside. The door to his quarters slammed open, and a tall, muscular figure filled the entrance.
It was Dane Ironclaw, the cruelest disciple of the outer sect. Dane had always taken pleasure in tormenting Kaelion, his towering figure casting a long shadow over the young man's fragile body. With him were several lackeys, their eyes gleaming with malice. They were here for one thing: to break Kaelion once and for all.
"Well, well, if it isn't the useless Kaelion Ardyn," Dane sneered, stepping inside. "Still stuck at the 3rd Stage, huh? Pathetic."
Kaelion stood up, his legs weak and unsteady. He had been preparing for this moment for years. The constant taunts and threats had been a part of his life for so long that they had ceased to surprise him. But still, a sense of dread tightened his chest. Dane was not here for a petty fight. No, this time, he had something much worse in mind.
"I don't have anything for you, Dane," Kaelion said, trying to keep his voice steady. "Please, just leave me alone."
Dane laughed, a cruel, low sound that sent chills down Kaelion's spine. "Leave you alone? Why would I do that? You've been a thorn in my side for far too long. I think it's time you learned your place."
With a sudden movement, Dane lunged forward, grabbing Kaelion by the collar and lifting him off the ground. Kaelion gasped for breath, his weak body unable to resist the crushing grip. His eyes watered as the world around him spun, and the sound of his heartbeat pounded in his ears.
"You've always been a joke, Kaelion," Dane continued, his voice dripping with malice. "I've watched you try and fail for years. It's pathetic. I'm going to teach you what happens to those who can't keep up."
Dane's lackeys closed in, blocking the door as they began to circle Kaelion, each of them sneering at him, reveling in his helplessness. They were like vultures, waiting for their prey to die.
Kaelion's vision blurred as the blood rushed to his head. He had no strength to fight back. His body was too weak, too tired from years of failure. The anger he had held inside for so long bubbled up, but it was fleeting, crushed by the crushing weight of his own helplessness.
With a sickening snap, Dane threw Kaelion to the floor. He landed with a painful thud, his ribs screaming in protest. The air left his lungs in a rush, and Kaelion gasped, trying to catch his breath. His body, already battered from years of neglect, was now on the brink of breaking. His mind was a fog of pain and despair.
"Take everything he's got," Dane ordered. "Let's see if the useless bastard can survive without any resources."
The lackeys moved in quickly, rifling through Kaelion's meager belongings. They took everything of value—his healing pills, his low-grade cultivation resources, even the few scraps of food he had left. But it wasn't enough for them. They wanted more.
Kaelion lay there, his vision darkening as the world around him spun. His body refused to cooperate, and the weight of his life's failures pressed down on him like a mountain. The pain was unbearable, and yet, in the back of his mind, he still clung to the faintest hope that one day, things would get better.
But hope was fleeting, and as his consciousness began to fade,
He died.