The mist of illusions thinned, and the path rose sharply, jagged like the spine of some ancient beast. The disciples climbed higher—and the mountain roared.
Clouds churned above. Lightning forked the sky. Winds howled down the cliffs like blades, carrying shards of ice and stone. Each gust pressed down like a hammer, each crack of thunder shook the path beneath their feet.
This was no simple storm—it was the will of the Peaks, striking with the fury of the heavens themselves.
---
Disciples Falter
At the first strike, a bolt of lightning shattered the path ahead. A disciple screamed, his footing lost, his body swallowed by the abyss below.
Others clung desperately to the rocks, their qi barriers flickering and breaking under the gale.
"The storm… it's too strong!"
"We'll never make it!"
The mountain showed no mercy. For every step gained, three were stolen back by the wind.
---
Arhaan's Defiance
Arhaan staggered, the storm ripping at his robes, the chains around his wrists glowing faintly as if resisting the weight of the skies themselves.
Each bolt of lightning seared his body, each gust sought to hurl him into the abyss. But he pressed on, step by step, blood running down his arm where the chains had cut into his flesh.
Heaven, you think your fury will break me?
His chains flared crimson-gold, lashing outward, anchoring him to the mountain itself. With every strike endured, his spirit grew sharper, his will more unyielding.
---
Kael's Ascent
Kael, meanwhile, walked the storm as though it were a stage built for him. The winds curled around his form but never touched him, the lightning seemed to hesitate before his steps.
Those who climbed near him were shielded, and whispers rose among the disciples.
"He… he's leading the storm itself."
"Kael truly is blessed by heaven…"
But beneath his calm mask, Kael's aura throbbed hungrily. The storm's fury wasn't avoided—it was consumed. Each bolt fed the crimson-black flame within him, each gust deepened his strength.
His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his eyes flicked toward Arhaan, who fought with blood and grit for every step.
Climb, struggle, bleed. The higher you rise, the sweeter it will be when I crush you.
---
The Mountain Waits
By the two-hundredth step, more than half the disciples had fallen, their bodies broken or cast aside. Only the fiercest endured—their silhouettes staggering upward through lightning, wind, and rain.
At the summit above, veiled by stormclouds, a faint golden radiance shimmered—the next stage of the trial, waiting to claim those strong enough to reach it.
And among the survivors, two figures stood apart:
Arhaan, bloodied but unbroken.
Kael, untouchable, but corrupted by every step.
The mountain's judgment had only begun.