The mountain trail twisted like a serpent's spine, rising ever higher into the dense mists. Every step Zane took was a reminder—his legs ached, his lungs burned, and the unfamiliar energy in the air prickled against his skin like static. This world was alive, and it didn't want him here.
Seris walked ahead in silence, her light steps barely disturbing the leaves beneath her. Zane trailed behind, occasionally stumbling as the landscape shifted—roots where none had been, stones that trembled like breathing creatures. He was beginning to understand.
This world wasn't passive. It observed.
"Nightwind's outer gate is just beyond this ridge," Seris said, glancing back. "From here on, you speak carefully. You act carefully. And you don't mention your system."
Zane wiped the sweat from his brow. "Because if I do… I'm dead. Got it."
Seris nodded once. "You're learning."
They crested the ridge—and the world changed.
A vast plateau stretched before them, ringed with black-stone walls and jagged spires. Dozens—no, hundreds—of figures in dark robes moved through the compound beyond, training with weapons, meditating under waterfalls, or channeling glowing energy into the air around them.
Above it all, a towering gate loomed. Carved from obsidian, engraved with silver in the shape of a crescent moon wrapped in wind, it exuded a quiet, oppressive power.
The Nightwind Sect.
Zane stepped forward—but Seris stopped him with a hand.
"Let me talk."
They approached the gate. Two guards stood watch—young men in dark blue robes, each radiating a pressure Zane could feel in his bones. One of them narrowed his eyes at Seris.
"Outer disciple Seris. Why have you returned with a stray?"
Seris bowed slightly. "I found him near the Shattered Cliffs. Unregistered. Alone. No obvious system signs—could be a late awakener."
The guard's gaze snapped to Zane. "He speaks for himself?"
Zane straightened, trying not to let the pulse of fear show. "Name's Zane. I woke up near a canyon. Don't know how. System hasn't stabilized yet."
The guard stepped closer, a glowing crystal in his hand. "Then let's confirm."
Seris stiffened. "His system is unstable. Scanning could trigger rejection—"
But it was too late. The guard pressed the crystal against Zane's chest.
Nothing happened.
Then the crystal cracked.
A shockwave burst outward—small, but unnatural. The guards recoiled. One of them drew a short blade from his belt, the air around him shimmering.
"His system is… corrupted!"
Zane's heart stopped. But before the guards could act, a voice sliced through the tension like lightning.
"Hold."
From behind the gates, a man in white and black robes stepped out. Taller than most, with silver eyes and a calm, icy demeanor, he radiated power so dense Zane could barely breathe.
"A system anomaly… on our doorstep?" the man said, studying Zane. "Interesting."
Seris bowed deeply. "Elder Nyros. He's harmless—for now. His system didn't react violently, only… unpredictably."
Elder Nyros walked closer, his gaze fixed on Zane like he was dissecting him. "Unpredictable systems are never harmless."
Zane met his eyes. "I didn't choose this."
"No one does," Nyros replied. "But the heavens always demand a price."
For a moment, the silence pressed too heavily. Then, unexpectedly, the elder turned away.
"Let him in."
The guards exchanged confused looks. "But—!"
"I said let him in." Nyros paused. "Put him through the Trial of Cinders. If he lives, he stays."
Zane blinked. "Trial of what?"
Nyros didn't answer. He simply disappeared into the mist.
Seris exhaled hard. "…Could've been worse."
"You call that not worse?" Zane growled. "What the hell is the Trial of Cinders?"
She looked at him, serious. "It's how they test the worth of anomalies. You either awaken something… or you burn."
Zane stared past the gates, into the shadow of the sect.
A test of survival.Of pain.Of potential.
A broken system. A mutated path.No guidance. No guarantees.
Zane clenched his fists.
"Then let it burn."