The cold wind howled through the training grounds of the Radiant Sword Sect, slicing through the thin robes of the boy kneeling in the snow.
"Trash."
The word struck harder than the slap across his face.
A ripple of laughter echoed through the crowd of young disciples, all dressed in flowing white robes with the sect's insignia—a blazing sun cradling a radiant sword—emblazoned on their chests. Except for one.
Arin Nightstar wore the dull grey robe of a servant disciple. Torn. Stained. Patched over the knees. His face was smeared with blood, one eye swollen shut, but his back remained straight.
He did not bow.
A heavy boot struck his ribs. He crashed to the side, coughing, blood dribbling from his lips onto the icy stones.
"I said, bow!" the senior disciple barked.
Raylen Zhen. Inner disciple. Nephew of Elder Zhen. Golden-haired prodigy with a reputation for cruelty hidden behind his polished smile.
Arin didn't answer. His fingers twitched against the ground, nails scraping snow-dusted stone as he slowly pushed himself up again.
"You think you're too good to kneel, orphan? You can't even gather Qi," Raylen scoffed. "You should've stayed cleaning latrines. Yet here you are, trying to enter the Path of Light."
Another boot. Arin collapsed again.
The others laughed louder.
Somewhere in the crowd, Lira Xue watched silently—her ice-blue eyes expressionless. She was the sect's youngest inner disciple, a genius of cold sword arts. Arin noticed her for the first time three years ago, when she destroyed a spirit beast twice her size with one swing of her frosted blade. Back then, she hadn't even looked his way.
Today was no different.
"Enough."
A deep voice silenced the noise.
Elder Zhen stepped forward, robes lined with gold thread, his beard tied with crimson silk. His eyes glowed faintly with golden light—proof of his cultivation at the Nascent Soul Realm.
Raylen bowed deeply. "Uncle."
Elder Zhen regarded Arin with a sneer. "You were given a chance to awaken your meridians three years ago. The sect's resources are not for charity. And yet, you leech. You persist."
Arin forced himself to his knees.
"I only ask for the right to walk the path."
"The path is not for the crippled!" Elder Zhen's voice boomed. "You are a stain on our record. A burden. The Trial of Dawn begins at first light tomorrow. You will enter with the others."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Raylen stepped forward. "But he'll die—"
"Exactly," Elder Zhen said coldly.
Arin's gaze met his. "You want me to die?"
"I want you to prove that the path of Radiance has no place for shadows."
The elder turned, robes billowing. "Let the beasts judge him."
---
That night, Arin stood alone at the edge of the mountain, the cold wind whipping at his ragged robes. The Trial of Dawn was a rite of passage—young disciples were sent into the Moonshadow Ravine, a beast-infested canyon where only the strong returned.
It was a trial designed for geniuses, not cripples.
He looked up at the sky. The moon was half-shrouded behind drifting clouds, casting long shadows across the snow.
He clenched his fists. I don't care if I die in that canyon. But I'll carve my name into this world, even if it's written in blood.
Behind him, footsteps crunched the snow.
Lira Xue.
She stood a few feet away, her robes pristine, hair braided with silver cords.
"You'll die tomorrow," she said plainly.
Arin looked at her, waiting.
"But..." She tossed a small vial at him. He caught it instinctively. A minor healing elixir. Expensive. Rare.
"Why?" he asked.
She turned, her voice cold. "Because something about you makes them nervous. That makes you interesting."
She vanished into the night.
---
Dawn.
Arin stood at the edge of the ravine with thirty other disciples. Elder Zhen floated above them on a cloud of golden light, holding a glowing jade talisman.
"The trial begins now. You have three days. Survive. Return with the Fang of a Moonshadow Beast, or don't return at all."
He snapped his fingers.
The world blurred as the talisman released a burst of light—and they were gone.
---
Arin stumbled as he landed on rocky ground. The air was thick with mist. Cries of beasts echoed all around.
He looked around. The others had been scattered—no one in sight.
His body ached. His ribs still bruised. He took a breath.
Then he felt it.
A pulse beneath the earth.
Something ancient. Cold. Watching.
He followed it, drawn deeper into the ravine. The shadows grew thicker. Trees loomed, black and twisted, branches curling like claws.
Then he found it.
A stone tablet, half-buried in moss. Cracks covered its surface, but a faint black glow pulsed from its core. Symbols danced across it—runes of an ancient language he didn't understand, but somehow… he felt them.
He reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the stone, the shadows around him surged.
Darkness bled into his skin.
His heart stopped.
A voice echoed in his mind.
> "Shadow recognized. Monarch fragment accepted. Rebirth initiated."
He fell to his knees as pain tore through him. His veins turned black. His vision blurred.
Then—
A screen appeared in the darkness of his mind.
---
[STATUS INTERFACE UNLOCKED]
> [Name]: Arin Nightstar
[Realm]: Mortal (Unawakened)
[Shadow Affinity]: 100%
[Shadow Points]: 0
[Abilities Unlocked]: Shadow Devour (Lv. 1)
---
He gasped, falling backward. The tablet cracked—and shadows exploded outward, racing into his body, searing into his soul.
And then… silence.
The darkness within him pulsed. Alive. A part of him now.
And in that moment, Arin Nightstar smiled.
Not because he was saved.
But because he finally had a path.
Not of light.
But of shadow.
---
A low growl came from behind him.
He turned.
A beast stepped from the trees. Six-legged. Fangs like daggers. Cloaked in living shadows.
A Moonshadow Beast.
Its eyes glowed red.
And it pounced.