The arena floor was cold beneath Kael's feet.
Smooth stone, reinforced with layers of engraved patterns that faintly pulsed with Aether—designed to withstand impact, to contain power, to endure battles far beyond what most Initiates could produce.
Above, the sky stretched wide and merciless.
Around him, rows of candidates and instructors watched from elevated platforms.
Waiting.
Judging.
"Match Three."
A voice echoed across the arena.
"Kael. Versus Daren Holt."
A ripple of mild interest passed through the crowd.
"Daren? He's Initiate Mid, right?"
"Yeah. This should be quick."
Kael stepped forward without expression.
Across from him, his opponent was already waiting.
Daren Holt.
Broad-shouldered. Confident. His stance relaxed, but his eyes sharp.
"You're the one from earlier," Daren said, rolling his shoulders slightly. "Initiate Early."
Kael didn't respond.
Daren smirked.
"Unlucky," he added. "You got me first."
Kael stopped a few steps away.
"…Maybe."
The instructor overseeing the match raised a hand.
"Begin."
The moment the word fell—
Daren moved.
Fast.
His foot slammed against the ground as he surged forward, Aether flaring around his limbs in a controlled burst.
Initiate Mid.
His speed alone was enough to overwhelm most Early-stage cultivators.
Kael didn't move.
Not immediately.
Daren closed the distance in an instant, his fist driving forward with force.
At the last possible moment—
Kael shifted.
A small step.
A slight turn.
The punch missed.
Daren's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Not bad."
He pivoted instantly, launching a second strike—this time faster, sharper.
Kael raised his arm.
Blocked.
The impact sent a dull shock through his body, forcing him back a step.
Strength.
Daren pressed forward, not giving him space.
Strike after strike followed, each one precise, each one backed by controlled Aether.
Kael retreated.
Not panicked.
Not rushed.
Measured.
The crowd watched with growing interest.
"He's… keeping up?"
"Barely."
"He won't last long."
Daren's attacks grew heavier.
More aggressive.
"Stop running," he snapped.
Kael didn't respond.
Instead—
He watched.
Every movement.
Every shift of weight.
Every pattern in Daren's attacks.
"…Predictable."
Daren's next strike came low.
Kael stepped back—
Then forward.
A sudden shift.
His hand shot out, striking Daren's arm just as it extended.
A clean hit.
Daren staggered slightly.
Surprise flashed across his face.
"You—"
Kael didn't follow up.
He stepped back again.
Reset.
The crowd murmured.
"He landed that?"
"Was that luck?"
Daren's expression darkened.
"…Enough."
Aether surged around him.
This time, stronger.
The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly as he pushed forward again—faster than before.
Kael's eyes sharpened.
Too fast.
He moved—
But not enough.
The strike connected.
A sharp impact slammed into his side, sending him sliding across the arena floor.
Pain flared through his body.
Kael exhaled slowly as he came to a stop.
"…Stronger."
Daren advanced.
"Now you understand," he said coldly. "This isn't your level."
Kael pushed himself up.
His arm trembled slightly.
Not from fear.
From restraint.
Deep inside, something stirred.
Fragments.
Broken pieces of Aether, shifting restlessly, reacting to his will.
Waiting.
Kael clenched his fist.
"…Not yet."
He forced it down.
Daren didn't wait.
Another attack.
This one aimed to end it.
Kael stepped forward.
Not back.
The moment their distance closed—
Time seemed to slow.
Daren's strike came straight toward him.
Kael raised his hand.
For a brief moment—
Something changed.
Not visible.
Not obvious.
But wrong.
A faint distortion flickered around his fingers.
A fracture.
Tiny.
Controlled.
Barely there.
Daren's Aether—
Wavered.
Just slightly.
Enough.
Kael shifted.
The strike missed by inches.
His other hand moved.
A precise blow to Daren's side.
Not strong.
But placed perfectly.
Daren's breath hitched.
His body staggered.
"What—?"
Kael moved again.
Another strike.
Then another.
Each one small.
Each one controlled.
But every time—
Daren's defense faltered.
Not collapsing.
But weakening.
Like something unseen was interfering.
The crowd fell silent.
"…What's happening?"
"Why is his Aether—?"
Daren felt it too.
His control—
Was slipping.
Not completely.
But enough to throw off his rhythm.
"You—what are you doing?!"
Kael didn't answer.
Because even he didn't fully understand it.
He was barely using it.
Just touching it.
Guiding it.
Letting the fracture exist for a moment—
Then releasing it.
Each time—
It disrupted.
Not enough to be seen.
But enough to matter.
Daren lunged again, anger overtaking precision.
A mistake.
Kael stepped in.
A final strike.
Clean.
Direct.
Daren's balance broke.
His body hit the ground hard.
Silence.
For a moment—
No one spoke.
Then—
"…Winner: Kael."
The instructor's voice echoed across the arena.
The reaction came instantly.
"No way."
"He won?"
"How?!"
Kael stepped back, breathing steady.
His arm still trembled slightly.
But the fracture—
Was gone.
Hidden.
Unseen.
As it needed to be.
Daren pushed himself up, his expression filled with disbelief.
"…What did you do?"
Kael looked at him.
"…I won."
Then he turned and walked away.
No explanation.
No pride.
Just silence.
From above, Lyra watched.
Her gaze sharp.
Focused.
"…That wasn't normal," she murmured.
She had seen it.
Not clearly.
Not fully.
But enough.
Something had interfered with Daren's Aether.
Something subtle.
"…Interesting."
On another platform, Riven clicked his tongue.
"Lucky," he muttered.
But his eyes said otherwise.
He had noticed.
Not the how.
But the result.
"…He's not just Early."
The matches continued.
One after another.
Some ended quickly.
Brutally.
Others dragged on, filled with desperate attempts and narrow victories.
Kael watched them all.
Learning.
Understanding.
The difference between stages.
Between control.
Between strength.
Initiate Early—
Struggled.
Mid—
Fought.
Late—
Dominated.
The gap was real.
Clear.
And yet—
Kael had crossed it.
Not through power.
But through something else.
"Next match: Lyra Vale."
The arena fell silent again.
Her opponent stepped forward—Initiate Late.
Confident.
Prepared.
The match began.
It ended in seconds.
Lyra moved once.
A single, precise motion.
Her Aether flowed flawlessly, overwhelming her opponent completely.
No struggle.
No wasted movement.
Just control.
"…Winner: Lyra Vale."
The crowd erupted.
Kael watched quietly.
"…So that's Awakened Mid."
A different level entirely.
"Next round will begin shortly," the instructor announced.
Candidates shifted.
Some relieved.
Some nervous.
Kael stood still.
His gaze lifted toward the arena board as new matchups began to form.
Names shifted.
Rearranged.
Then—
Stopped.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
There.
His name.
Next to another.
Riven Tal.
A faint smile appeared on Riven's face as he noticed it too.
Across the arena, their eyes met.
This time—
No words were needed.
The next round was set.
And this time—
There would be no holding back.
Kael exhaled slowly.
Deep within him, the fractured Aether stirred once more.
Stronger.
Restless.
Waiting.
"…Soon."
The tournament had only just begun.
And already—
The path ahead was beginning to crack.
Not just for Kael.
But for everyone.
Because something had entered the academy—
Something that did not follow the rules.
Something that could not be measured.
Something that would not remain hidden forever.
The Lost Path of Heaven…
Was beginning to show itself.