At the outskirts of the Eldoria, there is a particular cavern that was protruding numerous ear screeching sounds that drove ferocious beast's away.
This cavern deep beneath the fractured leyline pulsed faintly with silver light. The Eternal of Judgement stood at the center, her ethereal form wreathed in radiant chains that hummed with authority. Ethan knelt before her, sweat already running down his brow though the training had only just begun. He could feel it—the crushing pressure of her domain, a force that stripped away all pretenses and demanded nothing but absolute truth from one's soul.
"Again," her voice was stern, reverberating like a tolling bell, each syllable pressing into his chest. "You are not walking the path. You are still clinging to human logic. Mistwalkers were not bound by such triviality—they breathed possibility. Their mana was not a weapon. It was creation itself. Show me that resolve."
