He woke up on the cold floor, his body aching from the relentless cultivation practice of the previous night.
For a moment, his mind was blank.
Then his eyes widened.
"Oh no!"
He sprang to his feet, hastily washing up before rushing out of the dormitory. By the time he reached the gathering square, the crowd of outer disciples was already dispersing.
"This is bad…"
Ignoring the burning in his legs, he forced himself forward. As he passed others, their expressions shifted, from brief confusion to quiet realization.
"By the gods, he came late to something this important."
"That's unfortunate."
Soft laughter followed him.
Lowering his head, he hurried toward the head instructor, who was just about to leave.
He bowed deeply.
"Good morning, Instructor."
The man glanced at him, irritation clear in his eyes.
"You're late," he said flatly. "We're already done here."
"I know," he replied quickly. "But is there still an open group?"
The instructor paused for a moment before shrugging.
"That depends on whether anyone wants to take you in. Ask around. Come back in three hours. I'll assign your work then."
"Thank you, Instructor."
The man waved him away without another glance.
For the next three hours, he went from group to group.
The results never changed.
Avoidance.
Polite excuses.
Thinly veiled disdain.
No one wanted someone useless on a dangerous assignment.
When the time came, he returned to the square. The instructor was already waiting.
"As stated earlier," the man announced, "today's tasks will involve survival training, resource gathering, and limited combat exposure. Groups of three were required."
His gaze swept across the assembled disciples.
"I see everyone is accounted for."
"I have a question, Instructor."
He stepped forward.
"Yes?"
"I asked every group," he said calmly. "No one was willing to take me in. Am I still eligible to participate?"
"You're going."
The answer came instantly. Without hesitation.
"But Instructor," he pressed, "won't that be dangerous for me alone?"
"You'll be assigned outside the perimeter," the man replied. "Resource collection. You leave before noon."
No one reacted.
This wasn't an opportunity.
This was what happened to those who failed too many times.
"…Understood," he said quietly. "I'll get going."
He made his way to the armory.
The equipment issued to him was basic, barely better than farming tools. The armor was thin. The supplies were minimal.
Inadequate.
If something goes wrong, he thought grimly, I won't last long.
As he prepared to leave, he glanced at the other disciples.
Some looked confident.
Some anxious.
Some focused.
But all of them shared one thing.
They were not alone.
When their eyes landed on him, expressions twisted into faint sneers or quiet satisfaction.
"So this is all I amount to," he murmured. "At the very least… being alone."
He exhaled slowly.
"I know my limits."
A quiet, self-mocking laugh escaped him.
"But giving up now… isn't an option."
Stopping was no longer an option.
He stepped beyond the academy's perimeter.
The air felt heavier. Different. Unfamiliar.
With each step forward, the sounds behind him faded, swallowed by distance. The world grew silent, oppressively so.
He slowed to a stop.
"…Something moved."
At that moment, the sect walls behind him felt farther away than they should have.