Rigorus Awakens
The physician's quarters in the Imperial Palace thrummed with quiet power.
The air carried the scent of starbloom and phoenix ash, mingling with the glow of spirit crystals in the marble walls.
Rigorus Draeven stirred on the jade bed. His silver hair clung to the pillow, his body a map of scars from the Coliseum's apocalyptic duel.
Dawn's light slipped through silk drapes, painting golden veins across the floor.
Fragments haunted him
Crimson swords raining from a shattered sky.
Kaelen's infinite strings dragging them into the void.
The earth quaking under their clash of Qi.
Defeat burned in his chest.
But he lived.
A spark of defiance lingered in a broken vessel.
And deeper still, a darker fire.
The memory of Saint's Hollow, erased by Vaelus the Heavenpiercer's celestial slash.
The screams of his children still echoed in his soul.
A low groan slipped from his lips as he sat up. His Qi stirred sluggishly, like a dragon rousing from its lair.
Master Lianth, the head physician, glided forward. His robes whispered across the tiles.
"Easy, Saint Rigorus," the elder said. "Your meridians are knit, but your life force is frayed. That Demonic technique left scars beyond the flesh. Recovery demands time."
Rigorus rasped, his voice like a blade dragged across stone.
"How long?"
"Two days." Lianth placed a steaming elixir into his hands. Its aroma carried celestial dew and ancient root treasures to spark a cultivator's core. "The Empire sings your name. The King himself awaits you in council."
Rigorus drank. The elixir burned through his veins, reigniting his inner flame.
Saint. They called him Saint.
Survivor of Vaelus. Sovereign of the Draevens.
But titles meant nothing without strength.
His clan still suffered.
Kaelvron's betrayal still poisoned their lands.
And Vaelus his very name carved a wound into Rigorus' heart still walked free, unpunished for the massacre at Saint's Hollow.
Rigorus rose. His pain was a dull pulse, but his will blazed.
He donned crimson robes embroidered with soaring dragons, a gift from the royal weavers.
"Let's not keep His Majesty waiting."
Word of his awakening spread like wildfire through the palace.
Servants bowed low as he passed. Guards saluted with wide-eyed reverence.
Whispers trailed after him.
"The sky-breaker…"
"A dragon in flesh…"
Rigorus ignored them. His mind was a storm.
Cultivation wasn't survival.
It was ascension.
He would climb higher for his clan, for his children, for vengeance.
The Imperial Hall loomed vast before him.
Vaulted ceilings bore murals of ancient cultivators wielding Qi like gods. Spirit-stone pillars hummed with restrained power.
Upon the jade-and-gold throne sat King Eldric, a colossus of presence. His Heaven Realm aura was a storm barely leashed.
Elders from the Azure, Flame, and Jade Sects flanked him. Robes flowing. Qi weaving earth and sky together.
And to the King's right Kaelen Vorath Nemoran.
The Imperial Protector.
His drake-scale armor scarred but gleaming. His presence a mountain of resolve.
Rigorus entered, and silence swallowed the chamber.
Every eye fell on him.
He knelt, his silver tresses cascading like molten moonlight.
"Your Majesty."
"Rise, Rigorus Draeven," King Eldric thundered. His grin was fierce, his eyes alight with ambition. "Your name echoes in the Coliseum's stones. Though you fell, your power shook the heavens. A feat for eternities."
Elder Thorne of the Azure Sect leaned forward, voice grave.
"Those crimson swords… that was no saintly art. They reeked of shadow. Tell us, Rigorus what path do you tread?"
Rigorus met their stares without flinching.
"Fire and vengeance. Yet I stand humble before you."
The King's laughter boomed across the hall. "Humble? After clashing with my Protector and living? Bold words!"
He turned, voice ringing.
"Kaelen, the victor may claim a boon. Gold, lands, scrolls whatever you ask. Speak."
Kaelen stepped forward. His stern face softened, just barely.
"Your Majesty, I seek no reward. The duel was honor enough."
Gasps rippled across the chamber.
Refusing a royal boon was unheard of.
Elder Mirra of the Flame Sect whispered, "Such grace… the Nemoran blood shines."
The King nodded, impressed. "Noble, Protector. Very well. Rigorus, then name your desire."
Rigorus' heart thundered. His face remained calm, but within burned a storm.
This was his chance.
The Draevens needed salvation.
Funds to rebuild their villages.
Spirit stones to train the next generation.
Weapons to guard their borders.
And he needed strength. Strength to surpass his limits. Strength to face Vaelus and carve him from the earth.
Rigorus bowed low.
"Your Majesty, I seek two boons.
First, funds and essence crystals for my clan. With your grace, the Draevens will rise again as your allies.
Second " His voice deepened, and the hall grew still.
" I wish to train under the Imperial Protector himself. To learn from my conqueror. To refine my Qi and ascend higher."
The chamber froze.
Then erupted.
Elders murmured in disbelief. Servants whispered furiously.
"To ask that…!"
"Madness!"
"Or brilliance…"
Even the scribes faltered, their brushes scratching wildly to keep pace.
The King stared at Rigorus. Then he roared with laughter, fist slamming the throne.
"Shocked, are you? Bold, Rigorus bold as your blades! Kaelen, your answer?"
The Protector's eyes locked on Rigorus.
Within those abyssal eyes, he saw no malice. Only hunger.
A thirst for mastery. A thirst forged from loss.
Kaelen's lips curved into a faint smile.
"If the King decrees, I accept. But know this, Rigorus: my training is a crucible. It will shatter you before it forges you."
Rigorus' manic edge flickered through his calm mask.
"Then let it shatter me, Protector. I rise from ruins."
The King clapped, voice sealing the decree.
"Done! The Draevens will receive twelve thousand spirit stones, gold for rebuilding, and elixirs from the royal vaults. And Rigorus shall train under the Protector. Let this pact herald a new dawn!"
Applause thundered. Whispers lingered.
Hope blazed in Rigorus' chest.
His clan would heal.
And under Kaelen's guidance, his Demonic path would become unstoppable—a blade to pierce Vaelus' heart.
But then King Eldric raised his hand, expression darkening.
"Before you depart, Rigorus… we must speak of the darkness beyond our borders. The Nemorans."
The air shifted. Heavy. Elders tensed.
Rigorus' heart thundered, but his face was an abyss of calm. This was his chance. The Draevens needed salvation funds to rebuild villages razed by Kaelvron, spirit stones to train the young, weapons to guard their borders. And he needed strength, to surpass his limits, to face Vaelus and make him pay. He bowed deeply. "Your Majesty, I seek two boons. First, funds and essence crystals for my clan, the Draevens. Our lands are broken, but with your grace, we'll rise as your allies."
The elders nodded; alliances were pragmatic. But Rigorus pressed on. "Second, I wish to train under the Imperial Protector, Kaelen Vorath Nemoran. To learn from my conqueror, to refine my Qi and ascend higher."
The hall froze, then erupted in shocked murmurs. Elder Thorne's jaw dropped. "Train under Kaelen? The Nemoran arts are sacred, guarded secrets!" Elder Mirra leaned forward, eyes blazing. "Of all things? Wealth, power, a sect's mantle and he chooses mentorship? Madness or brilliance!" Servants whispered, nobles gaped, a scribe scribbled furiously, muttering, "This'll be a ballad by dusk…"
King Eldric stared, then roared with laughter, slamming his fist on the throne. "Shocked? Hah! As am I! Bold, Rigorus, bold as your blades. Kaelen, your answer?"
Kaelen's gaze pierced Rigorus, probing his abyssal eyes. He saw hunger, not malice a thirst for mastery, fueled by loss. A faint smile curved his lips. "If the King decrees, I accept. But know, Rigorus: my training is a crucible. It will shatter you before it forges you."
Rigorus grinned, his manic edge flickering. "Then let it shatter me, Protector. I rise from ruins."
The King clapped, sealing the decree. "Done! The Draevens shall receive twelve thousand spirit stones, gold for rebuilding, and elixirs from the royal vaults. Rigorus, you train under Kaelen. Let this pact herald a new dawn!"
The elders applauded, though whispers of astonishment lingered. Rigorus felt hope blaze; his clan would heal, and under Kaelen's guidance, he'd hone his Demonic path into something unstoppable, a blade to carve Vaelus' heart.
But the King raised a hand, his face turning grave. "Before you leave, Rigorus, we must speak of the darkness beyond our borders the Nemorans."
The air grew heavy, elders tensing. Rigorus sat on a cushioned dais, curiosity sharp, his hatred for Vaelus Kaelen's kin simmering. He knew of the Nemorans, rulers of the western continent, their legacy soaked in blood.
King Eldric leaned forward, voice low and urgent. "The Nemorans are no mere foe; they are a cataclysm. Their saga begins in the Dawn Era, when cultivators drew Qi from the stars. Azrael Nemoran, the Crimson Sovereign, founded their Crimson Judgement Clan. Born to a slave ravaged in a cruel kingdom, he endured bondage until ten. Yet he was godly, a talent born once in a millennium. Ruthless as a demon reborn, he slaughtered every noble in that land soldiers, dukes, innocents, all. The continent ran red, save the slaves he freed."
The elders nodded, faces pale. Kaelen stood rigid, eyes shadowed with pain.
Eldric continued, "Azrael ruled, granting slaves brief peace. But neighboring kings condemned him. At sixteen, he rallied his people, preaching vengeance on the world. Some, like his mother, sought peace. Only twenty percent craved blood, to rule as gods. Azrael killed the pacifists including his mother. He violated every strong woman left, siring godlike heirs to conquer. He found a ritual beneath the old imperial castle: slaying a loved one and drinking their blood grants immortality. He did so after killing his mother, and his followers mimicked, sacrificing consorts for eternity. With his immortal kin, he eradicated nobles across continents. Decades later, his sons were sent to dominate the world. One faltered in Varyndor our Imperial Lands falling in love, betraying his clan to protect us. That was Kaelen Vorath Nemoran."
Rigorus' breath caught, his abyssal eyes widening in horror. The Nemorans born of such savagery? Immortal butchers, led by a monster? And Kaelen, their traitor son, now the Protector? Vaelus, the Heavenpiercer, was one of those sons, his celestial slash the ruin of Saint's Hollow. The scope dwarfed his pain, but fueled his rage. "Your Majesty… this unveils a nightmare. But there's more." His voice shook with fury, memories of burning children flashing. "My uncle, Kaelvron Draeven, betrayed us. As a youth, he challenged my father, Gavric, for my mother, Celestia, to wed her. He lost, and my grandfather banished him for the shame weakness in dueling over a woman and failing. Exiled from Draeven lands, Kaelvron turned to the Nemorans, trading secrets for their Demonic arts. He led raids, wielding their blood-soaked techniques to slaughter our kin, aiming to seize the Draeven throne. I survived Vaelus' trial grounds, but returned to find my people broken. And Vaelus…" His voice cracked, "his war with Daimon destroyed Saint's Hollow, my sanctuary, killing my children. He must pay."
The hall gasped, elders recoiling. Elder Thorne clutched his staff, muttering, "A Draeven with Nemoran power? And Vaelus' crimes… calamity!" King Eldric's face darkened, fists clenching. "Kaelvron, allied with them? And Vaelus' recklessness… this is treason layered on ruin."
Kaelen's gaze locked onto Rigorus, recognizing his pain. "Your training begins now, Rigorus. We'll face Kaelvron and my brother Vaelus together. Their sins will not stand."
Rigorus nodded, his eyes blazing with resolve. The path was a crucible, but with Kaelen's guidance and the Empire's might, he'd rise a dragon to burn the Nemorans and their allies to ash.
As the council adjourned, Rigorus stepped into the palace gardens, sunlight warming his skin. Birds sang, but his soul roared with vengeance. Funds for his clan, training under Kaelen, a war looming. His Qi pulsed, red and fierce. In Draeven lands, Naelira would hear the boons, her hand on her unborn child, hope rising. Celestia would sense the storm, whispering to the stars. Far off, in Nemoran strongholds, shadows stirred, blind to the dragon awakening.
Rigorus' name burned brighter a flame to consume the dark.