CHAPTER 38 — The Altar of the Worthy
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The air in the Silver Archive shifted. The liquid silver pillars didn't just pulse anymore; they began to rotate, the carvings of movements and laws spinning faster until they became a blurred, metallic hum.
"The way back is gone," Serik said, his voice trembling as he touched the solid white mist where the entrance had been. "The temple is sealing us in."
"Not sealing," Ren said, his eyes fixed on the featureless statue. "Testing." He continued, "To leave this ruin, we don't go back. We go forward."
As he spoke, the floor beneath the statue retracted. A spiral staircase made of translucent jade descended into a deeper, darker level of the ruin. From below, a scent wafted up that made even Kael's Initial Core Realm heart beat faster. It wasn't the smell of incense; it was the smell of Condensed Life.
The jade staircase descended into a silence so absolute it felt heavy. They emerged into the Inner Sanctum, a dome of shifting obsidian and white marble that seemed to exist in a pocket of space outside the world.
The Inner Sanctum was a cathedral of forgotten physics. It didn't just house treasures; it curated them. Each item sat in a field of its own distorted reality, humming with a frequency that vibrated in the marrow of the group.
The air here was saturated with the scent of ancient dust and a metallic tang that set Ren's teeth on edge.
But before the plinths stood a pillar of dark glass. Glowing white characters bled into the air before them.
[TRINITY OF ACCORD.]
[YOU MAY ATTEMPT THREE CLAIMS. THE ITEM IS THE JUDGE.]
[STRENGTH IS RELATIVE; WORTH IS ABSOLUTE.]
A final line burned itself into the air, slower than the rest.
[FAILURE IS NOT MERCIFUL.]
Kael leaned heavily against the pillar, his face pale. "Read it carefully," he rasped, his eyes darting between the others. "Three chances. But it says 'Attempt.' It doesn't guarantee we survive the first one to reach the second. Each item will test us according to our own level. If I go for that sword, I'm fighting a Core-level trial. If Ren goes for it, he faces an Inner-level one."
"Choose with your life in mind," Serik whispered, his hand trembling as he reached for his formation pouches. "Don't look for what you want. Look for what you can survive."
The First Claim: The Toll of Entry
Kane was the first to move. He was a spearman to his soul, and he was drawn to a Frost-Iron Halberd that seemed to freeze the very light around it.
Item: The Glacial Fang Halberd
The weapon was forged from iron found at the absolute zero of a dying realm. Its blade does not just cut flesh; it severs the warmth of the soul. Upon a successful strike, it injects a "flash-freeze" intent that can paralyze a Core Realm cultivator's meridians for several seconds. For Kane, whose path was once limited by speed, the halberd offers an absolute defense—turning the air around him into a lethal, frozen barrier that shatters incoming projectiles.
As Kane's hand closed around the shaft, the hall vanished for him. He was plunged into a blizzard of pure Intent. For ten minutes, the group watched Kane stand frozen, his skin turning blue, his muscles seizing. When he finally wrenched the halberd from its stand, he fell to his knees, his hands frostbitten and raw, his breath a ragged, frozen mist. He had his weapon, but he looked like a man who had walked through a winter of a thousand years.
Rovan and Serik followed. Rovan claimed a Wind-Walker Saber, The Gale-Sever Blade.
This curved saber is weightless, crafted from solidified high-altitude currents. Its property is "Vacuum Edge"—every swing creates a momentary pocket of zero air resistance, allowing the blade to reach speeds that bypass the physical reaction time of most opponents. In Rovan's hands, it transforms a single strike into a flurry of unseen lacerations, making him a nightmare in close-quarters combat where the enemy cannot even hear the sword's approach.
And Serik got a Celestial Array-Disk, The Star-Map Monolith.
A palm-sized disk of pulsating obsidian etched with shifting silver constellations. Unlike ordinary formation tools, this disk does not require pre-set flags. It allows the user to "Architect the Battlefield" in real-time. By feeding his mental energy into the disk, Serik can manifest localized gravity wells or spatial distortions. For a tactical mind like his, it is the ultimate force multiplier, turning a standard skirmish into a controlled execution within his own private domain.
Both Rovan and Serik emerged from their trials with blood leaking from their ears and noses—internal hemorrhaging from the sheer spiritual pressure. They had their prizes, but they were already at sixty percent of their capacity.
Kael went next. He moved towards a pedestal holding a Dying Star Core, The Violet Nova Essence.
A condensed sphere of a star's final moment, trapped in a cage of White-Gold. This is a "Foundation Catalyst." For a fire cultivator like Kael, it provides a permanent source of Violet-Grade flame, which burns exponentially hotter than standard spirit fire. Beyond its raw heat, the Core grants the ability "Solar Flare"—a once-per-battle burst of blinding radiation that can incinerate spiritual shields and temporarily blind anyone within a hundred-yard radius.
Kael's First Trial: The Conflagration of Ego. As he touched the gold cage, a phantom version of himself—identical in power and technique—stepped out of the light. It was a mirror duel. For Kael to win, he had to out-think his own perfect instincts. He fought himself for fifteen minutes in a silent, high-speed blur of flame and steel. When he finally struck his shadow down, he was gasping, his robes slashed, and his internal qi-sea churning with the effort of fighting a master.
Ren stood before a small, unadorned Matte-Black Spike, The Abyssal Anchor.
A tool that defies the laws of buoyancy and mass. It has the property of "Absolute Inertia." When held or integrated into a strike, it allows Ren to manifest the weight of a mountain without losing his own speed. It is the perfect anchor for the Second Path—it prevents him from being knocked back by superior forces and ensures that even a simple punch carries the crushing, unstoppable momentum of a deep-sea tectonic shift.
He didn't need the halberds or the sabers. The Aetherion library held techniques that could turn a blade of grass into a god-slaying sword. What he lacked was a Vessel and Anchors.
As Ren touched the spike, the Test of Density began.
The gravity didn't just increase; it localized inside his body. It felt as if every cell in his lungs were being filled with lead. Ren didn't use his qi to push back. He used the Second Path's principle of Accord. He accepted the weight. He allowed the pressure to compact his meridians, tempering them like a blacksmith's hammer.
First Item: Claimed. Ren stood still, but a thin line of blood trickled from his closed eyes.
The Second Claim: The Breaking Point
The group, emboldened by their first success, moved toward their second choices. This was where the Temple's mercy ended.
Kane reached for a defensive cloak. The trial—a bombardment of kinetic force—shattered his ribs instantly. He was thrown fifty feet across the marble floor, his spear clattering away. Rovan and Serik fared worse; their second trials were mental. They were found screaming in the center of the hall, their eyes rolled back as the items rejected their "Worth." They had failed miserably, their spirits battered, unable to even think of a third attempt.
Kael stood before a Phoenix-Heart Pill, The Rebirth Elixir.
A legendary Tier-5 pill that carries a fragment of the Phoenix's cycle. It is the ultimate insurance policy. If consumed at the brink of death, it triggers the "Cinder-Mend" effect, instantly cauterizing all wounds, regrowing lost tissue, and restoring 50% of the user's maximum Qi capacity. However, its true value lies in the permanent increase to one's vitality, stretching the user's lifespan and broadening the meridians to handle the transition into the higher Realms.
The trial was a Sea of Purgatory. Kael was engulfed in white flames that burned not his flesh, but his very foundation. He stood his ground for a grueling twenty minutes, his skin charring, his hair turning to ash. He claimed the pill, but as he fell, he was a husk of a man. His scorched lungs could barely draw air.
"I'm... done," Kael managed to choke out, clutching the pill to his chest. "No more. I'll die if I touch a third."
Ren's Second Trial: The Mercury Baptism, The Sovereign's Ichor.
A vial of pre-primordial liquid metal that acts as a "Vessel Reinforcement." Unlike pills that boost power, the mercury permanently coats the user's skeleton and meridian walls in a layer of indestructible film. For Ren, this is the solution to the frailty of his Inner Realm body; it allows him to circulate high-pressure Qi that would normally burst a human vessel, effectively giving him the physical durability of a peak Core Realm expert while still in the lower realms.
Ren walked to a vial of Primal Mercury.
As he unstoppered it, the mercury didn't wait for him. It surged up his arm, entering through his pores. It was a Test of Purity. The mercury acted like a solvent, trying to dissolve everything in Ren's body that wasn't "Correct."
Ren's scream was silent. He collapsed to his knees, his skin bulging as the liquid metal raced through his veins. He had to use every ounce of his Crescent Qi to guide the mercury, stitching his veins back together as they burst. It was a cycle of destruction and rebirth that lasted an eternity. When it finished, Ren was drenched in a mixture of sweat and black ichor.
Second Item: Claimed. Ren's hands were shaking so violently he had to pin them to his thighs.
At his feet, Ren's shadow was no longer still. The fox had emerged, but it was a frantic, shifting blur of darkness. As the mercury tore through Ren's veins, the fox let out a soundless howl, its form rippling as if it were being pulled apart by the same invisible force. It didn't retreat; it pressed itself against Ren's trembling legs, its shadowy fur turning into jagged, obsidian spikes as it anchored itself to its master's pain.
The Third Claim: The Scroll of the Unseen, The Atlas of the Shattered Heavens.
This is not a manual of techniques, but a "Conceptual Map." It contains the coordinates of forgotten spirit veins, the hidden weaknesses of ancient law-structures, and the true history of the Great Boundary. Its primary use is "Insight Induction"—allowing Ren to see the "flow" of energy in the world around him. To a scholar of Aetherion's library, this is the missing lens that turns theoretical knowledge into a living, breathing weapon of environmental mastery.
The hall was a graveyard of broken pride. Kael lay scorched; the others were unconscious or crippled by pain. Only Ren, his face a mask of pale agony, stood up.
He walked to the final pedestal. It held a Brittle Leather Scroll.
"Ren... don't," Kael wheezed from the floor. "You're... you're falling apart."
Ren didn listen. He touched the scroll.
The Test of the Void descended.
This wasn't physical. It was a total sensory deprivation. Ren was stripped of his sight, his hearing, his touch, and even his sense of self. He was a spark in an infinite dark. The scroll was a predator, whispering that his struggle was meaningless. It showed him the Aetherion library—all that knowledge—and mocked him: What use is the wisdom of gods to a boy who will die in a hole?
Ren didn't fight the dark. He didn't cling to his ego.
He reached into the center of his being, to the very foundation of the Second Path.
"I am the one who walks," he thought. "The destination is a lie. The path is the only truth."
The darkness shattered.
Ren stood in the silent hall, the scroll in his hand. But the cost was visible. His hair had streaks of grey. Every pore on his body was weeping a fine mist of blood. His internal organs were bruised, and his spirit-sea was a turbulent, storm-tossed wreck.
He had completed all three. He had taken the Spike, the Mercury, and the Scroll.
The wooden cube in his pocket let out a final, piercing chime. The liquid silver on the pillars began to overflow, rushing toward them like a tide.
"Kael," Ren rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stones. "Up. Now."
He grabbed Kael by the collar of his scorched robes, dragging the Core Realm master toward the center of the silver tide.
The shadow fox slipped from Ren's heels, its form becoming dense and heavy. Its eyes were two slits of burning crimson in the dim light. Without a command, the beast latched its jaws onto the back of Kane's shredded tunic, its limbs tensing with a supernatural strength that defied its size. Together, the blood-soaked boy and the flickering beast hauled the wreckage of their team across the marble floor, a grim procession of survivors moving toward the encroaching silver.
"Ren... you're dying," Kael whispered, looking at the hollows in the boy's cheeks.
"Not today," Ren replied.
As the silver swallowed them whole, the temple gave one final, resonant hum—the sound of a master acknowledging a peer.
They were gone. And for the first time in ten thousand years, the Inner Sanctum was empty of its finest weights.
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Chapter End