The Radiant Dawn Sect was alive with the hum of activity. Disciples trained in the open courtyards, their synchronized movements and glowing weapons creating an intricate dance of light and power. The clang of steel and the occasional burst of energy filled the air, but for Ashen, the sounds were little more than a distant murmur.
Sitting on the edge of the training grounds, his back against a stone pillar, Ashen stared at Emberfang resting across his knees. The blade's runes glimmered faintly, their warmth pulsing in rhythm with his thoughts.
Since the meeting with Elder Malric, a storm had been brewing inside him. The elder's offer hung over his head like a dark cloud, its implications heavy and unavoidable. Elyndra's warning echoed in his mind, urging caution, but the temptation of Malric's resources and influence lingered.
"Every decision carries a price," Ashen murmured to himself, running a hand over Emberfang's hilt. "But whose price am I paying?"
His reflection was cut short by a familiar voice.
"Still lost in thought, blacksmith?"
Ashen looked up to see Elyndra, her sharp green eyes fixed on him. She leaned casually against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, but her posture was tense.
"Thinking's not a crime," Ashen replied, standing and sheathing Emberfang.
"No, but in this sect, it can get you killed," Elyndra said bluntly. She stepped closer, her tone softening. "I've been keeping an eye on Rael. He's been unusually quiet since your fight. That's not like him."
Ashen's brows furrowed. "You think he's planning something?"
Elyndra nodded. "I'd bet my blade on it. And Malric... he's not one to take a passive role either. You've stirred up too much attention too quickly. You need to be careful, Ashen."
Ashen sighed. "I didn't come here to play their games. I just want to focus on getting stronger."
"That's the problem," Elyndra said, her voice low. "In this sect, strength isn't just about power. It's about alliances, influence, and knowing who to trust. Right now, you're walking a very dangerous line."
The Sudden Test
Before Ashen could respond, a loud gong echoed across the training grounds, silencing the clamor of weapons and voices. Disciples turned toward the source of the sound, a raised platform in the center of the courtyard where an elder stood.
The elder's voice rang out, amplified by his cultivation. "Disciples of the outer circle, a test of combat skill has been called. Those summoned must report to the Trial Hall immediately. Failure to appear will be considered forfeiture of your standing."
Ashen's heart sank as his name was called alongside a dozen others, including Rael.
Elyndra cursed under her breath. "This isn't random. Someone set this up."
Ashen tightened his grip on Emberfang. "If it's a test, then I'll pass it."
Elyndra grabbed his arm before he could leave. "Listen to me. This isn't about passing. They're testing you, yes, but they're also looking for a way to break you. Rael and his people will be waiting for their chance."
Ashen met her gaze, his determination unwavering. "Then let them try."
The Trial Hall
The Trial Hall was a massive, circular arena carved into the mountain, its stone walls etched with glowing runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Torches lined the perimeter, their flickering flames casting long shadows across the ground.
Ashen stepped into the arena, his boots crunching against the sand. Around him, other disciples whispered and murmured, their eyes flicking between him and Rael, who stood at the far end of the arena with his usual smug grin.
An elder presided over the trial, his expression stoic as he raised a hand for silence. "This is a test of combat prowess and adaptability," he announced. "Each participant will face a series of opponents. Those who fall will forfeit their rank. Those who succeed may rise."
The crowd buzzed with anticipation.
Ashen's jaw tightened. This wasn't just a test—it was a stage for humiliation, a chance for Rael and his allies to strike.
"Disciple Sky," the elder called. "You will begin."
A Fight for Survival
Ashen stepped into the center of the arena, Emberfang glowing faintly in his hands. The first opponent entered—a tall, wiry disciple wielding twin daggers that gleamed in the torchlight.
The elder's voice rang out. "Begin!"
The disciple wasted no time, darting forward with blinding speed. Ashen barely had time to raise his blade as the daggers slashed toward him, their edges aimed for his throat.
The Forge's warmth surged in his chest, guiding his movements. Emberfang flashed, its runes blazing as it deflected the attack. Ashen countered with a powerful swing, forcing the disciple to leap back.
The fight was fast and brutal. Ashen's opponent was quick, their strikes relentless, but Ashen's instincts and the Forge's guidance kept him one step ahead. When the disciple lunged for a final blow, Ashen sidestepped and brought Emberfang down in a decisive arc, disarming his opponent and sending them sprawling to the ground.
The crowd erupted in cheers and whispers as the elder declared Ashen the winner.
The next two opponents were stronger, each wielding weapons imbued with faint energy. Ashen fought with everything he had, his muscles screaming with effort as he pushed himself to his limits.
By the time he stood victorious over the third opponent, his breaths were ragged, and sweat dripped down his face. But the fire in his chest burned brighter than ever, fueling his resolve.
A Familiar Face
As the crowd murmured in anticipation of the next match, Ashen's heart sank.
"Rael Valen," the elder announced.
Rael stepped into the arena, his blade drawn and a confident smirk on his face. The crowd's whispers grew louder, their excitement palpable.
"Finally," Rael said, his voice carrying across the arena. "A chance to show everyone here that you're nothing more than a lucky blacksmith."
Ashen raised Emberfang, the blade's glow steady and defiant. "Talk less. Fight more."
The elder's voice cut through the tension. "Begin!"
Rael attacked immediately, his blade flashing with energy as it struck toward Ashen. Their swords clashed with a deafening ring, sparks flying as the force of the impact sent shockwaves through the arena.
Rael's strikes were fast and precise, each one aimed to exploit Ashen's weaknesses. But Ashen had learned from his trials. He moved with purpose, his blade deflecting Rael's attacks as the Forge's guidance sharpened his instincts.
The fight escalated quickly, both combatants pushing each other to their limits. Ashen's swings were heavier, his strikes infused with the Forge's power, while Rael's speed and technique kept him in the fight.
"You think you're strong because of that sword?" Rael sneered, dodging a powerful strike. "It's not yours. You're just borrowing its power!"
Ashen gritted his teeth, his movements growing more aggressive. "And yet you can't stop me."
Rael's smirk twisted into a snarl. With a burst of energy, he unleashed a flurry of strikes that forced Ashen onto the defensive. The crowd roared as the fight reached its climax, the tension in the air almost unbearable.
Finally, Ashen saw an opening. As Rael overextended, Ashen sidestepped and struck, Emberfang's runes flaring brightly. The blow sent Rael's sword flying from his hand, and Ashen leveled the blade at his rival's throat.
"Yield," Ashen said, his voice calm but firm.
Rael glared at him, his chest heaving with rage and humiliation. After a long moment, he spat the word through gritted teeth. "I yield."
Unseen Dangers
As the crowd erupted into cheers, Ashen lowered Emberfang, his victory cemented. But as he turned to leave the arena, he caught a glimpse of a figure watching from the shadows of the upper balcony.
It was Elder Malric.
Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Ashen felt a chill run down his spine. Malric's expression was unreadable, but his presence spoke volumes.
This wasn't over.