The outpost tavern stank of ale and smoke. Rough men laughed, dice clattered on wooden tables, and a bard strummed halfheartedly in the corner.
Arhaan sat in the shadows, hood low, nursing a bowl of plain broth. His body still ached from the battle, though the golden mark upon his chest continued to pulse faintly, knitting torn flesh together.
The tavern door creaked open. An old man entered, hunched, with a crooked staff. His patched robe marked him as a beggar-scholar, the kind most ignored. Yet the moment he stepped inside, the air shifted.
Arhaan's eyes narrowed. His aura was faint—hidden—but beneath it lay an ocean.
The old man's gaze swept the room, then landed directly on Arhaan. He smiled and hobbled over.
"Boy," the old man said, seating himself uninvited, "you shattered ribs, tore throats, and broke steel today. Not bad for someone who, by all rights, should have no spiritual root."
Arhaan stiffened. His hand moved subtly toward the dagger hidden in his sleeve.
"Who are you?"
The old man chuckled, pouring himself wine from Arhaan's jug without asking.
"Names are troublesome. But some call me Elder Kael. I collect interesting things—ancient scrolls, forgotten techniques…" His eyes gleamed. "…and reckless boys who dare to slap the heavens."
Arhaan's expression hardened. "If you've come to threaten me, don't waste your time."
"Threaten?" Elder Kael laughed so loud half the tavern stared. He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper.
"No, child. I've come to offer you a path."
---
The Offer
Kael tapped his staff against the floor. In that instant, the tavern blurred. The smoke, the drunks, the bard—all melted away.
Arhaan blinked. He was no longer in the tavern. He stood instead in an endless plain of stars, constellations swirling like rivers of fire.
Kael leaned on his staff, unbothered. "Illusion realm," he explained casually. "Don't be alarmed. Only you and I are here."
Arhaan's jaw tightened. An illusion this powerful… this man isn't ordinary.
Kael's eyes sharpened.
"I saw your tribulation, boy. I saw you seize heaven's lightning with your bare hands. Do you know what that means?"
Arhaan said nothing.
"It means the heavens fear you. And when the heavens fear, so too will the sects, the clans, the gods themselves. You will have no peace." Kael's voice was low, heavy. "So you have two choices: wander rootless until they crush you… or learn to wield that power properly."
Arhaan's fists clenched. "And what do you want from me in return?"
Kael grinned.
"Nothing but entertainment. Watching you climb the chains and spit in the gods' faces—that's worth more than gold."
He raised a finger, drawing glowing lines in the starry void. They formed into seven burning runes, each resembling a broken chain.
"This world has countless cultivation paths. But you—your soul walks the Path of Chains. For every seal you break, your strength will leap beyond reason. But so too will heaven's wrath."
Kael's grin widened, almost mad.
"So tell me, Arhaan—do you want to crawl quietly like the rest… or do you want to ascend, shaking the very skies?"
---
Decision
Arhaan stared at the runes, their glow reflected in his eyes. He remembered the burning village, the terrified children, the laughter of arrogant sect disciples.
His hand slowly rose. His voice was calm, steady.
"I don't want to crawl. I will walk this path—until no chain remains."
Kael's laughter echoed through the illusion, wild and triumphant.
"Good! Then from today, the heavens themselves have gained an enemy. And I, Elder Kael… have gained a disciple."
The stars shattered. The tavern returned.
Arhaan blinked. No one else in the tavern had noticed a thing. Kael sat across from him, sipping wine as though nothing had happened.
"Finish your broth, boy," Kael said lightly. "At dawn, we head to the sect."