A storm was brewing.
Not above—where the skies over the city lay dry and grey—but beneath the ground. Beneath the sewers and tunnels and abandoned train lines, where something ancient stirred in the dark.
Jayden stood before the mouth of a tomb sealed beneath the outskirts of Sector 12, breathing in the stale scent of damp stone, rusted metal, and something older… something that didn't belong to this age.
Behind him, Isla and Master Quill waited.
"I've read of this place," Isla whispered. "It predates the city. Older than the Ash Clans. Maybe older than the Dynasty itself."
"Then why's it been hidden until now?" Jayden asked.
"Because," Quill said, "some doors don't open until the right blood knocks."
He was staring at Jayden when he said it.
Jayden's spine tensed. He turned back to the archway. Intricate dragon patterns curled around its edges. Their mouths were open, fangs bared. In the center of the stone wall: a handprint. Weathered. Ancient. And glowing faintly red.
"You think it's… mine?"
"I don't think. I know," Quill replied. "This was built by your ancestors. Guardians of the Dragon Form."
Jayden swallowed hard. His father had vanished near this sector years ago. No body. No trace. Only rumors of fire and a crater that had never been explained.
And now, the same fire seemed to whisper from the stone in front of him.
He stepped forward.
Pressed his palm against the handprint.
A sudden heat surged through his veins. Not painful—recognizing. As though something deep beneath the earth had just opened one eye and whispered, At last…
The wall trembled. Then split open with a grinding groan. A wave of hot air blasted out—thick with chi and ash.
Behind the wall: a stairway of obsidian stone, winding downward into blackness.
Quill gave him a nod. "Go. Alone."
Jayden raised a brow. "You're not coming?"
"This place was sealed to all but one bloodline," Isla said softly. "It has to be you."
Jayden took a breath, then descended.
The deeper he went, the hotter it grew.
Not just temperature—but energy. The chi was wild here, raw and old. It pressed against his lungs, crawled under his skin. At one point, it made his bones ache.
He passed murals carved into the walls—depicting warriors cloaked in fire, their eyes glowing like suns. Dragons coiling around mountains. Men splitting skies with a single punch.
And then, the chamber.
Massive. Circular. Lit by torches that burned blue without flame.
At the center: a stone coffin, half-buried in rubble.
Around it, statues of ancient guardians knelt in eternal watch, each wearing armor etched with the same dragon crest Jayden had seen on the scrolls in Isla's library.
He approached the coffin.
And the fire breathed.
Not from the torches. From the cracks in the stone floor.
It pulsed upward in sudden jets of golden flame, spiraling around the room.
Jayden's instincts screamed, but something kept him rooted.
The fire didn't burn him.
It welcomed him.
Words formed in the flame—ancient runes curling into readable script.
"To awaken the blood, one must face the soul of the flame."
And with that, the fire rushed into the coffin.
Jayden staggered back as the lid slid off.
Inside, the skeletal remains of a warrior lay wrapped in crimson robes. His skull bore a dragon-etched helmet. His chest—cracked open.
Atop the chest: a glowing orb of fire.
It hovered, pulsing slowly, like a heart still beating after death.
Jayden knew what it was.
The Flame Core.
A cultivation artifact passed down through the Dragon Dynasty, lost centuries ago. Said to hold the condensed chi of a God-ranked martial cultivator. Only one born of Dragon Blood could absorb it.
And now, it called to him.
He dropped to his knees, crossing his legs in meditation.
Steady breath. Calm mind. Anchor your soul.
He reached forward and touched the Flame Core.
Agony.
Flames poured through his arms, into his veins, his muscles. His heart roared. His vision blurred into red and gold. He saw flashes of memories not his own—battles fought in the sky, dragons howling over ancient cities, men bowing to a warrior cloaked in flame.
He screamed—but didn't pull back.
He accepted it.
The pain turned into pressure. Then into power.
His dantian exploded outward, then contracted—like a universe reborn inside him. A new realm of chi opened. Stronger. Wilder.
When the light finally faded, Jayden collapsed, drenched in sweat.
But he was changed.
His veins glowed faintly gold. His heart beat louder. His chi sense expanded. He could feel every crack in the chamber walls, every shift in air.
He wasn't just cultivating anymore.
He was ascending.
When Jayden emerged from the tomb, Isla gasped.
"You've crossed into the Golden Meridian Stage," she whispered.
Quill stared at him, eyes calculating.
"No," he said. "It's more than that. He's begun the Dragon Path."
Jayden didn't respond.
He was staring at the horizon.
Something had awakened in him.
And somewhere out there… the people who killed his father would feel it.