The first knight reaches De in an instant—a blur of rusted steel and unnatural speed. His instincts scream as he twists away, the knight's blade carving the air where his neck had been. A half-step late, and his head would have rolled.
Kaelen moves beside him, a storm of glaive strikes that sends one warrior staggering. But another replaces it instantly.
Their enemies do not falter.
De meets his first opponent in full—his Domineering Demon Sword singing through the air as it collides against a jagged, corroded blade. The impact sends a shock through his arms.
The force behind these things is monstrous.
He sidesteps a second strike, countering with a qi-infused slash that severs the knight's arm at the elbow. The limb clatters to the ground, but the knight does not slow.
De's eyes narrow. This isn't a normal fight. These warriors do not feel pain, nor do they weaken from wounds.
Kaelen lands a clean strike on one's head, cracking the helmet in half, but the body still moves, glaive raised high. "They don't die."
De exhales sharply. Then they must be dismantled completely.
A lesson from Cheon Ma Sin Gun echoes in his mind:
If you cannot overpower, disrupt. Break the enemy's rhythm.
His next attack isn't for the knight's body—but its balance.
With a precise step, he deflects an incoming blade, twisting his own sword into the knight's knee joint. The rusted armor gives, the knee buckling.
Before it can recover, De's blade flashes upward—severing the head from its shoulders.
This time, the knight falls and does not rise.
Kaelen catches on. His strikes become surgical, aimed at weak points—elbows, knees, necks—and one by one, the undead warriors collapse.
The battle is relentless. Sweat beads on De's forehead as he dodges, counters, dismantles. His body burns with exertion, but he does not falter.
Finally, the last knight crumbles.
A long silence follows.
Then, the torches flicker brighter, and the chamber shifts once more.
The trial is over.
Kaelen wipes his brow. "That was hell."
De simply exhales. They passed.
A narrow stone bridge stretches forward, leading into a vast, open chamber split into two paths.
At the center, atop a raised platform, two ancient scrolls rest within shimmering energy fields.
Kaelen's jaw tightens. "Trap."
De studies the markings. Three paths, but only one is real.
The voice returns, drifting like a breeze through old ruins.
"Wisdom is the key. Choose the wrong path, and you shall be lost."
Kaelen groans. "A riddle?"
De barely listens. His eyes scan the dust on the ground. The middle path is untouched. Too untouched.
No disturbances. No footprints. No signs of movement.
It's a trap.
Kaelen moves toward it, and De grabs his arm. "Not that one."
Kaelen blinks. "You sure?"
De nods. "Left."
They step onto the correct path—and the moment they do, the energy barriers fade.
Kaelen exhales. "Lucky guess?"
De shakes his head. "Nothing here is luck."
They retrieve the scrolls.
The vault accepts their victory.
De unfurls his scroll. The name stares back at him.
Sky-Shattering Demon Palm.
A skill fit for the path of a Heavenly Demon.
His fingers tighten around it. Was this fated? Or just another coincidence?
Kaelen slaps him on the shoulder. "Not bad."
De doesn't respond. He looks at the scroll, then at the vast world beyond this vault.
If this place existed, what else was out there?
More than sects. More than trials.
Secrets. Power. Paths waiting to be carved into legend.
And he intended to find them.
The damp forest air presses in around them, thick with the lingering scent of moss and overturned earth. The tension from the trials still clings to De-Reece's skin, his muscles tight from exertion, his mind whirring as he replays every step of the treasure hunt. The moment he and Kaelen stepped out of the ancient ruins, something unspoken settled between them—not rivalry, not camaraderie, but a quiet understanding.
Both had survived. Both had gained.
De flexes his fingers, feeling the cool weight of the scroll tucked inside his robes, its significance unknown but undeniable. Whatever knowledge lay within it, he would have to unlock it himself. Beside him, Kaelen walks at a relaxed pace, his usual smirk firmly in place, but De doesn't miss the sharpness in his eyes—Kaelen is watching him, studying him, just as much as De is doing the same.
The moon hangs low, its silver glow slicing through the branches, casting shifting patterns on the forest floor. After hours of fighting, solving riddles, and narrowly escaping death, exhaustion should have set in by now. But De's blood still hums with a quiet energy, the thrill of battle refusing to fade so easily.
Kaelen exhales, breaking the silence. "We should camp for the night. No sense in pressing forward while our bodies are still running on adrenaline."
De considers for a moment before nodding. He wouldn't admit it outright, but rest—even just for a few hours—makes sense. Pushing his limits without giving his body time to recover is the fastest way to weaken his foundation.
They find a clearing by a small, slow-moving river, the water glistening under the pale light. The air is cool, the distant chirping of insects filling the silence between them. Kaelen busies himself gathering kindling, while De rolls his shoulders, stretching out the tightness in his muscles.
A flick of Kaelen's hand, and a small burst of blue qi sparks to life, catching the dried leaves alight. The fire crackles, casting warm light over the clearing, illuminating the sweat still clinging to their skin. The quiet is comfortable at first, but De can tell Kaelen has something on his mind.
"I have to ask," Kaelen says, tossing a stick into the fire, watching the embers spark. "What exactly are you aiming for?"
De keeps his gaze on the flames, considering the question. What is he aiming for? Strength? That's obvious. But beyond that…
He thinks of his brothers—the ones lost the moment he was thrown into this world. The ring each of them had taken, the dragon pendant still resting against his chest. The uncertainty of where they were, if they were even alive. The thought twists something in his stomach, a frustration too deep to name.
Finally, he speaks. "I need to get stronger. As strong as I can. As fast as I can."
Kaelen hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "For the sect selection?"
De doesn't answer immediately. "For what comes after."
Kaelen tilts his head, intrigued. "And what exactly comes after?"
De exhales through his nose. "I don't know yet."
For the first time, Kaelen studies him not as a potential opponent, but as a puzzle. Whatever he was expecting De to say, that wasn't it. He leans back on one elbow, smirking. "You're an interesting one."
De doesn't reply.
A breeze rolls through the clearing, rustling the leaves, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and distant rain. It should be soothing, but De's thoughts remain sharp, tangled in the weight of expectation, the path forward, and the unknowns that still stretch before him.
After a long pause, Kaelen shifts. "We should spar."
De finally looks at him.
Kaelen grins, rolling his shoulders. "We both gained something today. Might as well see what we've learned."
De considers this. His body is worn, his mind heavier than it was hours ago. But the desire to fight, to refine himself, to push forward, never fades. It's a part of him, carved into his very existence.
So he stands.
Kaelen follows, stretching out his limbs, his smirk widening. "I'll even give you the first move."
De doesn't hesitate.