The question lingered over the silent plain.
"What is the purpose of power?"
No one spoke.
The disciples looked at Zarek with anxious eyes, expecting him to answer immediately. To them, the question seemed almost absurd. Every cultivator knew why they sought power. To protect their sect, to defeat stronger enemies, to climb higher realms, to become immortal.
Simple.
Obvious.
Yet Zarek remained silent.
The hooded figure did not rush him. Its ancient gaze never wavered, and the stone scale resting in its hand hung perfectly balanced, unmoved by the wind.
Minutes passed.
The silence grew heavier.
Finally, one of the younger disciples whispered to another, "Why isn't Senior Brother answering? The answer is obvious."
The First Elder heard him.
Without taking his eyes from the trial, he replied quietly, "If it were obvious... this place would not exist."
The disciple immediately fell silent.
Within his consciousness, Zarek listened for the familiar ancient voice.
Nothing.
Not even a whisper.
For the first time since obtaining the Primordial Devour System, he truly stood alone.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"So this is your lesson."
No answer came.
The System had deliberately withdrawn.
Zarek lifted his eyes to the hooded figure.
"If I answer with what I've learned from others..."
"...would that satisfy the Hall?"
The figure answered calmly.
"No."
"If I answer with what you wish to hear?"
"It will be false."
"If I remain silent?"
"That is also an answer."
The conversation ended there.
The Hall demanded neither speed nor eloquence.
It demanded honesty.
Zarek slowly turned his head and looked across the endless plain.
His eyes drifted over the ancient pillars, the erased landscape, the disciples standing behind him, and finally the First Elder.
Memories surfaced.
A weak boy mocked because he possessed no talent.
Days spent hungry.
Nights wondering why the heavens favored others.
The moment he first awakened the Primordial Devour System.
The countless enemies he had devoured.
The companions who trusted him.
The fear in the eyes of those who once looked down on him.
The Absolute Entity.
The Law Fragment.
Each memory carried a different meaning.
Each had changed his understanding of strength.
He closed his eyes.
"When I was weak..."
"...I believed power existed so no one could hurt me."
His voice spread across the silent Hall.
"When I became stronger..."
"...I believed power existed to protect those beside me."
The scale remained perfectly balanced.
No reaction.
The hooded figure waited.
It neither approved nor rejected his words.
Because Zarek himself hadn't finished.
He knew those answers were true.
But they weren't complete.
He opened his eyes again.
"Later..."
"I believed power existed so I could stand above every obstacle."
A brief pause.
"I was wrong."
The disciples looked at one another in confusion.
Wrong?
Hadn't every cultivator dreamed of becoming invincible?
Zarek looked toward the erased horizon.
"I fought enemies."
"I devoured techniques."
"I devoured bloodlines."
"I devoured even concepts."
"But every time I reached a summit..."
"...another one appeared."
He slowly clenched his hand.
"There is no peak where power alone ends the journey."
The hooded figure's gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly.
The stone scale trembled.
Only slightly.
Zarek noticed.
"So that's what you're measuring."
Not knowledge.
Not cultivation.
Growth.
His thoughts became clearer.
"The purpose of power..."
"...is not to stand above others."
"It is to remove the limits of your own understanding."
The wind suddenly shifted.
The ancient pillars hummed softly.
Several disciples staggered as an invisible pressure swept across the plain.
The scale tilted.
Only a fraction.
Yet it had moved.
The hooded figure spoke.
"You are closer."
"But not yet."
Silence returned.
The answer still lacked something.
Zarek frowned.
What was missing?
He had spoken honestly.
Yet honesty alone wasn't enough.
He lowered his gaze to the smooth stone beneath his feet.
It reflected nothing.
No sky.
No shadow.
No face.
Then...
He understood.
Every answer he had given...
Centered on himself.
Protecting himself.
Growing himself.
Understanding himself.
Even now...
He was still speaking as an individual.
The Hall...
Was older than civilizations.
It would never judge something so small.
His breathing steadied.
He looked directly at the hooded figure.
"The purpose of power..."
"...is responsibility."
The entire plain shook.
Not violently.
But unmistakably.
"If strength exists only for oneself..."
"...it eventually becomes tyranny."
"If strength exists only to conquer..."
"...it eventually destroys itself."
He took a single step forward.
"The greater the power..."
"...the greater the responsibility to understand when not to use it."
Silence.
Complete.
Absolute.
Even the wind ceased to move.
The hooded figure lowered its head.
For the first time.
The stone scale glowed.
One side slowly descended.
The other rose.
Perfect balance had finally broken.
The figure looked up once more.
"You have not answered correctly."
The disciples' hearts sank.
Then the figure continued.
"...Because there is no correct answer."
"It is your answer."
"And you were willing to bear its consequences."
A deep rumble echoed beneath the plain.
The ancient pillars began sinking into the earth.
The smooth stone cracked.
Not from destruction.
From awakening.
Far below...
An enormous gate emerged from beneath the forgotten land, its surface carved with symbols older than cultivation itself.
The Hall of Judgment had accepted Zarek's answer.
But the trial...
Had only just begun.
The hooded figure stepped aside.
Its voice echoed through the opening gate.
"Proceed, Zarek."
"Meet the First Keeper."