The city of Lorian Vale stirred with a muted pulse beneath the morning haze, its streets veiled in the mist of dew and the faint scent of refined spirit herbs. Kael sat on a low stone wall near the edge of a training field, his body still sore from the matches of the day before. Arien lounged nearby with her arms behind his head, chewing lazily on a stalk of dry grass.
"You've been quiet since yesterday," Arien said, eyes closed. "Thinking about the next stage of the tournament?"
Kael shook his head. "No. I've been thinking about something else. That girl—Sera—called the Lower Sky Orders just one level in the cultivation hierarchy. And yet… all of this," he gestured to the towering buildings and vast arenas of Lorian Vale, "feels like a small world in itself."
Arien opened one eye and chuckled. "That's because it is. Lorian Vale is just a pocket, Kael. One of many scattered throughout the lower tiers of cultivation society."
Kael turned to him, curiosity clear in his eyes. "Tell me. I want to know the whole structure. Not just the fancy names."
Arien stretched, then sat up, brushing grass from her robes. "All right then. But keep in mind, what I know is based on scraps of stories, half-truths, and what I learned sneaking into a few too many lectures in places I didn't belong."
Kael smirked. "Still better than what I know."
Arien leaned forward, drawing in the dirt with a twig. "The cultivation world is broken into four major tiers. At the bottom, you have the Grounded Realms—places like this. Where cultivators barely graze the first true stages of power. These include towns like Lorian Vale, villages like Ashmere, and countless sects that barely manage to survive."
Kael nodded, watching as Arien drew a wide circle in the dirt.
"Above that are the Sky Orders, divided into Lower, Middle, and High. The Lower Sky Orders host tournaments like the one you're about to enter. The stronger sects among them have real resources—pill forges, training arrays, minor spirit beasts. But even they are considered insignificant by those in the Middle Sky."
"And above them?" Kael asked.
"Above them are the Heavenly Dominions," Arien said, her voice lowering slightly, as if invoking the words carried weight. "Empires, legendary sects, ancestral clans. Their members shape regions with a flick of a hand. It's said that cultivators from the Heavenly Dominions can fly between continents on elemental clouds and drink qi-dense starfire as tea."
Kael blinked. "And the fourth tier?"
Arien paused. "The Forgotten Paths. Cultivators who walked away from the orders, from even the dominions. Hermits, sages, monsters… and the founders of legacies. No one knows how many remain. But they left behind Inheritances. Temples, ruins, forgotten forges—like Ashveil."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "So the Forge was one of theirs."
"Possibly," Arien said, then grinned. "Though I'm guessing you're not interested in chasing someone else's legacy."
Kael didn't answer.
Arien continued, drawing lines branching off from the original circles. "As for regions—there are five great ones in the Known World."
Kael leaned closer.
"North of Ashveil, beyond the Cloudscar Peaks, lies the Varnish Steppe—flatlands roamed by fierce warrior clans. The wind cultivators from there are born riding lightning. The strongest among them belong to the Clan Kaien, rulers of the Tempest Courts."
Kael frowned. "Clan Kaien… Arien, that name sounds familiar."
"It should. They're warlords. Ruthless, but respected. And their influence stretches into Lorian Vale through smaller affiliates."
"Go on."
"East of here is the Severed Marsh, home of the Gloomroot Sects. Poison, shadow arts, soul corruption—you'll find it all there. They're isolationist and dangerous. The marsh itself devours qi over time, making it hell for outsiders to cultivate. But their alchemists are feared across continents."
Kael made a mental note of the name.
"To the south is the Sunken Expanse, where cultivation is tied to water and reflection. The Flowing Sun Sect rules there, masters of elemental fusion. They're one of the few neutral factions with influence across the Sky Orders."
"What about the west?"
Arien's eyes darkened. "The west is the Ruined Span. Once home to a Heaven-ranked sect, now broken. Ash rifts, spirit-dead lands, forgotten demons. No one sane goes there."
"And the center?"
"That would be the Celestial Reach, where the Heavenly Dominions rise. Floating mountains, star-fused rivers, palaces of cloudsteel—places we can't even dream of touching yet."
Kael leaned back, letting the weight of it all settle. "So all of this," he said slowly, "this tournament, the sects here… it's just the bottom rung of a world built on power."
"Exactly," Arien said. "Which is why your path is so strange."
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"You're forging your own system. Most people follow the Paths—Qi, Body, Soul, or Element. Rarely do they try to combine even two. The Unified Path is a theory. A heresy to some. But you're… walking it."
Kael's gaze dropped to his calloused palms. "I have no sect. No inheritance. No talent. I walk it because there's nothing else for me."
Arien grinned. "You walk it because no one else dares to."
Their conversation was broken by footsteps.
Sera Veylan approached, her crimson armor muted in the morning light. She looked between the two boys before focusing on Kael. "You're being summoned."
Kael stood. "Who?"
"The Red Warden of the Veylan House. My sister, Iriya Veylan. She saw your match yesterday and wants to speak with you directly."
Arien raised her brows. "That's… not normal."
Sera shrugged. "Nothing about Kael is."
Kael followed her, tension coiling in his chest. He hadn't yet recovered from his previous bout, and now he was being dragged into a meeting with someone likely far more powerful than him. Still, he couldn't afford to retreat—not now.
As they made their way through the city's winding upper halls, Kael asked, "What is your House's place in all this?"
Sera glanced at him. "The Veylan House is a minor affiliate of the Crimson Sky Sect—one of the core factions in the Lower Sky Orders. We serve as their wardens and enforcers in frontier cities like Lorian Vale."
"And your sister?"
"Ranked Second among the Red Wardens. But don't be fooled—she could crush most cultivators in the Lower Sky with a glance."
Kael didn't answer.
They entered a marble chamber adorned with symbols of flame and sword. At the far end, a woman stood with her back turned, watching flames dance inside a suspended brazier.
"Iriya," Sera said. "This is Kael."
The woman turned. Her face was sharp, ageless, with eyes that burned not with fury but with cold insight.
"You burned well," Iriya said, voice smooth. "But fire alone is not strength. I want to know what drives you."
Kael hesitated. Then answered.
"I've seen how the world works. I've seen how power is worshipped and weakness discarded. I won't wait for someone to offer me a path. I'll forge one. Even if it kills me."
Iriya stepped forward. "Then perhaps, Kael, it is time you see what lies beyond Lorian Vale."
She handed him a sealed scroll. Its paper shimmered with spirit ink.
"This is a token. With it, you may travel to the Crimson Crucible—the training grounds of our sect. Few from the outer cities are ever given this chance. You've earned my interest. Let's see if you can earn more."
Kael took the scroll, unsure of whether it was an opportunity—or a trap.
Either way, the path ahead had widened. And Kael would walk it, forged by flame, tempered by trial, and driven by a fire no sect could claim.