Location: Starforge Nexus - Training Facility → Ritual Chamber | Starforge Nexus - Dimensional Fold
Time: Day 43, Morning (External: 7 Days)
Golden light exploded from all eight pillars simultaneously.
Not just the red Inferno pillar—all of them. Ancient Luminari power channeling through crystalline structures, weaving together in geometric patterns that hurt to look at even through closed eyelids.
The air hummed. Deep, resonant, like someone had plucked reality's lowest string.
Heat blossomed in Jayde's chest.
Phase one. Pressure building.
It started gentle—just warmth spreading from her lower abdomen where the Crucible Core rested in its dimensional pocket. Not painful, actually kinda nice, like drinking hot soup on a cold day.
Then more warmth.
Then heat.
Then burning.
(Ow,) Jade whimpered. (It's getting hot—)
Endure. This is just the beginning.
The pressure increased. Not physical weight pressing down, but essence-pressure, Luminari energy resonating with the divine lock around her core, forcing compatibility, building toward critical frequency.
Her Crucible Core—sealed, dormant for fifteen years—suddenly woke up.
It was weird, feeling something inside her body that she'd never felt before. Like discovering you had an extra organ that'd been asleep your whole life. The eight colored layers of the Divine Eightfold Lock became visible in her internal vision, seen through some new sense that hadn't existed five minutes ago.
Red outermost layer, pulsing in rhythm with the formation's hum.
Blue second layer, still and cold.
Green third, humming faintly.
Grey, silver, white, gold, black—all descending inward toward her actual core.
The red layer matched the frequency with the formation. Resonating. Vibrating. Getting ready to shatter.
Heat built. And built. And built.
Sweat poured down her face, soaking her training clothes, dripping onto obsidian that hissed like water hitting a hot pan. Her breath came faster, shallower, body trying desperately to cool itself against internal fire that couldn't be cooled.
Temperature rising exponentially. Core approaching ignition threshold.
"Thirty percent resonance," Green's voice, clinical and detached. "Pressure will increase until ninety percent, then fracture phase begins. Keep breathing."
PRESSURE.
Like someone sitting on her chest. Then two people. Then five. Then ten. Crushing weight that made breathing difficult, made her ribs creak, made black spots dance behind closed eyelids.
(Can't breathe—) Jade gasped. (Too heavy—)
Yes, you can. Shallow breaths. Quick and efficient. Get oxygen however possible.
Jayde sucked air through clenched teeth. Shallow. Quick. Anything to get oxygen past the crushing weight.
The heat in her core intensified from burning to agony. Like someone had poured molten metal directly into her lower abdomen. Her meridians—those channels White's training and the medicinal baths had strengthened—suddenly became visible in her internal vision, glowing faint red as they responded to proximity to the breaking lock.
"Fifty percent," Green announced.
Sweat wasn't enough anymore. Jayde's whole body was overheating, skin flushed red, heat radiating off her like she was standing next to a forge.
(Make it stop, make it stop, please—)
Can't stop. Won't stop. We endure. That's what we do.
"Sixty percent."
The red layer of the lock began showing hairline fractures. Tiny cracks spreading across its surface like glass under stress, leaking golden light that mixed with red, creating an orange glow that pulsed with her racing heartbeat.
"Seventy percent."
Jayde screamed.
Couldn't help it. The pain transcended anything from six weeks of brutal training. This wasn't muscle damage or broken bones, or environmental stress. This was essence-pain, power-pain, reality-bending force channeled through her core, burning through channels that had never carried energy before.
"Good," White's voice, surprisingly gentle. "Let it out. Screaming helps manage the pain response. Don't try to be silent."
So Jayde screamed again. Loud. Raw. The sound echoing off the obsidian walls and disappearing into the darkness overhead.
"Eighty percent."
The cracks in the red layer spider-webbed completely, covering the entire surface. More golden light leaked through, mixing with red, the orange glow intensifying until it felt like staring at the sun from inside her own body.
(I can't I can't I can't—)
You can. You ARE. Still conscious. Still breathing. Still enduring. We're survivors. This is what we do.
"Eighty-five percent," Green said. "Almost there."
Almost. Just a little more. Five percent. Five tiny percentage points between us and power.
But those five percent felt like climbing a mountain with broken legs.
"Eighty-eight."
Jayde's back arched involuntarily, muscles locking, fingers clawing at obsidian hard enough that nails cracked and bled. The pressure was unbearable now, the heat beyond description, pain so intense it stopped feeling like pain and became something else entirely—just pure overwhelming sensation that consumed everything.
"Eighty-nine."
The lock's red layer looked like shattered safety glass, held together only by surface tension, about to explode into fragments.
(Please please please—)
Almost—
"Ninety percent," Isha announced, his voice carrying weight. "Phase two begins. Brace yourself, Jayde—"
CRACK.
Reality fractured.
That's the only way to describe it. Like the universe itself broke around her core, divine-era binding magic shattering under sustained Luminari assault, fragments of ancient power dissolving into golden light that burned worse than anything—
Jayde's scream tore through the ritual chamber like something being murdered.
Every nerve fired simultaneously. Every pain receptor in her body went off at once. Her back arched so hard something popped in her spine, muscles seizing, teeth clenched tight enough to crack, fingernails digging bloody furrows into her own palms.
(STOP STOP STOP PLEASE MAKE IT STOP—)
CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP ENDURE DAMN IT ENDURE WE'VE SURVIVED WORSE WE—
The red layer shattered completely.
Explosion of light, of heat, of power that should've vaporized her, but the formation caught it, channeled it, directed the destructive force into the dimensional substrate instead of flesh. The obsidian floor glowed white-hot where the energy discharged, hissing and steaming.
And then—
Flooding.
Inferno essence poured into her Crucible Core like liquid fire, finding a void and filling it.
Her core spun—actually spun, she could feel it rotating like a tiny star—drawing essence in, beginning the circulation process that defined cultivation, transforming from dormant potential into an active furnace.
Ember Qi flooded her meridians.
Channels that'd been empty for fifteen years suddenly carried power, and they weren't ready, weren't really ready despite six weeks of preparation because nothing could fully prepare for this—
Fire racing through her veins. Burning through pathways that'd never known heat. Her blood felt like it was boiling, her bones like they were melting from inside, every cell in her body screaming as it tried to adapt to carrying essence.
She convulsed. Body seizing, muscles spasming uncontrollably, every system overloading at once.
"Stay with it!" Green's voice cut through sharp and commanding. "Your body knows what to do! Let the essence flow—don't fight it—guide it through the circulation path!"
Right. Circulation. Breathing technique. The one Green just explained thirty seconds ago, except thirty seconds feels like a lifetime when you're dying.
In through the nose. Essence flows into the core with breath. Down through the primary meridian to the legs, feet, and ground the energy. Back up through secondary channels, through torso, arms. Return to core. Out through the mouth, release excess.
Jayde tried.
Gods, she tried.
The first attempt failed spectacularly—essence sputtered halfway through her meridian network, backed up like water hitting a clog, burned worse in the stuck channels.
(We're doing it wrong, we're doing it wrong—)
"Again," Green commanded. "Slower. Don't force it. Your meridians are new channels—treat them gently."
Slower.
In through the nose. Essence flowing into core, controlled this time, gentle draw instead of desperate gulp.
Down through the primary meridian—letting the channel expand naturally, not forcing.
To legs—burning but manageable if she didn't panic.
To feet—ground points accepting energy, dispersing some intensity into the earth. Or the obsidian. Whatever.
Back up through secondary channels—careful, careful, like threading a needle with shaking hands.
Through the torso—heart point pulsing, overwhelming, but she breathed through it.
Arms—fingertips tingling with power that felt electric.
Back to core—the gathering point where essence is concentrated and refined.
Out through the mouth—excess releasing in a visible red mist that glowed in the formation's light.
One complete circulation.
We did it. One successful cycle.
"Again," Green said.
So Jayde circulated again.
And again.
And again.
Each cycle came easier. Her meridians learned the flow, adapted, and became more efficient. The burning decreased—not disappearing but becoming manageable, accepted, almost normal.
By the fifth cycle, she'd found a rhythm.
By the tenth, it felt almost meditative.
Breathe in. Essence flows. Guide through channels. Exhale. Release excess.
Simple. Repetitive. Like counting breaths, except the breaths were made of fire.
(We're doing it,) Jade whispered in wonder. (We're actually cultivating.)
Drawing ambient Ember Qi from the environment—well, from the formation's essence stones—refining it in our core, cycling it through our channels. Real cultivation. Actual power.
"Fifteen cycles," Green said eventually. "You can stop. Open your eyes."
Jayde opened them.
The world looked different.
Sharper. Brighter. Like someone had turned up reality's resolution settings. She could see Ember Qi now—faint red particles drifting through the air like dust motes in sunlight, drawn to the formation's pillars, cycling through the chamber in lazy currents.
Everything had texture she'd never noticed before. The obsidian floor wasn't just black—it had depth, layers, crystalline structures visible if she focused. The essence stones in the red pillar weren't just glowing—they were alive, pulsing with captured fire that wanted to be free.
Her body felt... alive. That's the only word. Alive in a way it'd never been. Energy hummed through her meridians with each heartbeat. Her Crucible Core spun in her lower abdomen, a tiny furnace radiating warmth she could actually feel.
We have power. Real power.
She looked at her hands. They looked normal—still small, still scarred from childhood. But when she focused, really focused, she could see faint red light glowing beneath the skin, tracing her meridian channels like bioluminescent veins.
"How do you feel?" Isha asked gently.
"Like..." Jayde searched for words. "Like I've been blind my whole life and just opened my eyes for the first time."
(It's so beautiful,) Jade breathed. (The essence is everywhere. In the air, in the stones, in us. It's actually beautiful.)
Beautiful and functional. We're not powerless anymore.
"Stand up," Green commanded. "Slowly. Your balance will be affected by active Ember Qi flow."
Jayde stood carefully.
And Green was right—everything felt different. Lighter somehow, like gravity had decreased by five percent. Her muscles responded faster, her balance was sharper, her senses seemed amplified.
This is cultivation. Physical enhancement through essence channeling. We're still weak by Doha standards, but we're finally ON the path.
White nodded from his position by the wall. Something in his steel-grey eyes looked almost proud.
"Now," Green said, her expression shifting to something more serious. "We need to discuss your core's condition."
The warmth in Jayde's chest cooled.
"What about it?"
Green gestured. A holographic display materialized—showing Jayde's Crucible Core in detailed cross-section. The red Inferno layer was gone, shattered as designed. The remaining seven layers glowed softly, still sealed and waiting. But the core itself—
Cracks.
Visible cracks spreading across the core's surface like fractured porcelain. Not catastrophic, not immediately dangerous, but undeniably present. Major fracture lines with smaller branches, mapping her core like a broken eggshell held together by surface tension.
(Oh no,) Jade whispered.
"Your core was damaged," Green said bluntly. "Severely. Probably during early childhood trauma—possibly the seal placement itself, or abuse afterward. Then ten years of slave labor, malnutrition, and constant stress. The damage accumulated. The seal disguised it, hid it from detection. Unsealing revealed the truth."
Jayde stared at the hologram. At the cracks that mapped her core's surface in glowing red lines.
"Can it be fixed?"
"Yes." Green's voice carried absolute certainty. "With proper cultivation technique and time. But it requires discipline you may not be accustomed to."
She stepped closer, her fractured emerald eyes boring into Jayde's.
"Your core is functional but fragile. Like cracked pottery—it holds water, but rough handling shatters it completely. You need one year of careful, controlled cultivation. Gentle essence circulation only. No combat. No extreme physical exertion. No pushing limits. No rushing advancement. Just steady, patient progress while the core heals."
One year. Twelve months.
"If you rush," Green continued, voice hard as stone, "if you push too hard, if you try advancing tiers before the core stabilizes—it cracks further. Maybe irreparably. You could become permanently Voidforge. No second chances. No coming back."
The chamber fell silent except for the quiet hum of essence stones winding down.
Jayde looked at her glowing hands. At the power she'd fought six weeks to earn. At the fragility that came with it.
(We waited fifteen years,) Jade said quietly. (What's one more year if it means keeping this forever?)
The difference between having power and losing it permanently. We'll be patient. Careful. Take the time to heal properly.
"I understand," Jayde said aloud. "One year of gentle cultivation. No rushing. No risks."
"Good." Green's expression softened fractionally—barely noticeable but there. "You executed the unsealing competently. Pain tolerance is adequate. First circulations acceptable. You've earned the right to cultivate. Don't waste it through impatience."
She gestured, and the holographic display shifted, showing a training schedule.
"Starting tomorrow, we begin proper instruction. Circulation refinement—making your technique flawless. Essence sensing and manipulation. Basic Sparkcasting theory. One week minimum, possibly two, until you're competent enough to practice independently without immediately destroying yourself."
(More training,) Jade sighed.
Different kind. Magic instead of muscles. We can handle this.
"Rest today," Green commanded. "Unsealing is traumatic to the system. Your body needs recovery time. Eat well, sleep long, let your meridians adapt to carrying Ember Qi. Tomorrow we work."
She turned and walked toward the chamber exit, green robes flowing behind her like water.
Isha smiled, his feline features warm with approval. "Welcome to the cultivation path, Jayde. Your real journey begins now."
White just nodded once. But something in that nod said well done.
Jayde stood in the ritual chamber's center, Ember Qi flowing through her meridians with each breath, power humming in her cracked but functional core.
Six weeks of hell earned five minutes of agony that bought this: the ability to cultivate. To grow. To become something more than a broken slave child.
(We're not powerless anymore,) Jade whispered.
No, Jayde agreed. We're not.
Power—fragile but real.
Progress—bought with pain.
And one year ahead to make it permanent.
She could do one year.
(Together,) Jade said.
Together, Jayde confirmed.