Chapter 6: The Elders' Verdict
The moment Sabre's eyes opened, the first thing he felt was cold.
A hard, unforgiving chill pressed against his back, seeping through his clothes and into his bones. It grounded him instantly, dragging him away from the vast, endless astral plane he had just left behind. His breaths came out sharp and uneven, each inhale scraping his chest as if his lungs had forgotten how to work properly.
He was back.
The brightness above him was no longer the shifting glow of stars and nebulae. Instead, crystal lamps floated calmly along the ceiling of the hall, casting steady white light across the polished floor. The familiar scent of stone, mana residue, and old incense filled the air.
For several seconds, Sabre didn't move.
His mind replayed everything at once—the awakening orb pulling him in, the violent force that tore his soul away from his body, the endless vortex of stars, and the twelve-winged angel whose presence alone had made him feel insignificant. He remembered the lightning that wrapped around him like it had a will of its own, and the astral force that felt calm yet terrifying, like the silent depth of space.
The inheritance.
Something so vast it felt wrong for someone his age to carry.
Yet it had entered him all the same.
Sabre slowly pushed himself up, his palms pressing against the cold stone floor. His body trembled, not from fear alone, but from the strange energy still flowing through him. Tiny arcs of lightning flickered around his fingers, snapping softly before fading into nothing. His veins felt hot, almost burning, as if something new was circulating through his body—something alive.
"So… this is awakening," he whispered.
His voice sounded foreign to his own ears.
It didn't feel normal. It didn't even feel human.
As he rose to his feet, something pulsed deep inside his chest. It wasn't violent or overwhelming this time—just a steady, unmistakable rhythm. Like a locked door opening for the first time. Like a path revealing itself.
He knew what it was immediately.
Cultivation.
The stories he had heard since childhood surfaced in his mind. Cultivation was the path every awakened human walked, divided into three major realms:
The Initiate Realm, where one first guided energy through the body.
The Core Realm, where that energy was refined and given form.
And the Ascendant Realm, where one's power began to merge with the world itself.
He had taken his first step.
The very first stage of the Initiate Realm.
A faint wave of energy flowed through him, sharpening his senses. He could hear distant footsteps beyond the hall, the soft hum of the crystal lamps, even the subtle shifts in the air around him. The world felt clearer, closer, as if he had been half-blind before and only now truly opened his eyes.
But the moment didn't last.
The massive doors of the hall slammed open.
The sound echoed like thunder.
Elder Soren stepped inside, his long robes trailing behind him. Three other elders followed, their expressions grim, their eyes sharp and unwelcoming. They stopped several steps away from Sabre, forming a loose line that felt more like a wall.
Their gazes weren't curious.
They were wary.
Suspicious.
Afraid.
Soren's eyes narrowed as he studied Sabre from head to toe, lingering on the faint lightning traces still fading around his hands.
"So…" he said slowly, his voice low and heavy. "It is true."
Sabre felt his stomach tighten. "What's true…?"
"You awakened lightning magic," one of the elders said, his tone cold and measured. "And something else."
Sabre's heart skipped a beat.
Astral manipulation.
He took an unconscious step back. "I didn't choose anything. The orb—it pulled me in. I couldn't stop it."
"Silence," Soren snapped.
The single word carried authority so heavy it made Sabre flinch.
"Lightning is rare," Soren continued. "But astral force… that is forbidden. No child should ever possess it."
Sabre clenched his fists. "Why is it forbidden?"
One of the elders answered, his calm expression unable to fully hide the fear in his eyes.
"Because astral power is tied to what exists beyond our world. To the same forces that tore open our skies twenty years ago."
The words hit Sabre like a blow.
"The tear…" he whispered. "The creatures…"
Soren stepped forward, his robes rustling softly.
"We do not speculate," he said. "We know. The astral mark upon you is proof enough. Your existence is a danger that cannot be allowed to remain."
Sabre shook his head violently. "No—listen to me. I didn't summon anything. I didn't open any tear. I just touched the orb!"
"That is exactly the problem," Soren replied.
"Something chose you. Something from beyond our realm. And such things do not choose without reason."
Fear thickened the air, heavy and suffocating. Sabre could feel it pressing down on him, wrapping around the elders like a shared conviction. They weren't acting out of cruelty.
They were acting out of terror.
And terror showed no mercy.
Without warning, an immense spiritual pressure crashed down on Sabre. His knees slammed into the floor as if the air itself had become solid. He gasped, struggling to breathe as the elders' combined energy filled the hall like a raging storm.
"You are too dangerous," another elder said quietly.
"If the astral force has awakened within you, then your very existence will draw the attention of what lies beyond the tear."
"I don't even know how to use it!" Sabre shouted, sparks of unstable lightning crackling weakly across his arm.
"That is why we must act now."
A blast of spiritual force tore through the air.
Sabre barely rolled aside in time. The floor exploded where he had been standing, shards of stone flying in every direction. He crashed hard into a pillar, pain erupting along his ribs.
He tried to stand.
Another elder raised his hand.
Sabre's body lifted off the ground, suspended helplessly by an invisible force. His limbs strained uselessly as pressure crushed down on him from all sides.
"No—stop!" he shouted. "I didn't ask for this! I didn't want this power!"
"It does not matter," the elder replied calmly. "Your life ends here."
Energy gathered around the elders, spiraling faster and sharper than Sabre could track. A violent wave slammed into his chest, driving the air from his lungs. His ribs screamed in protest as he was hurled back onto the floor.
Lightning flickered around him again, wild and unstable, but it refused to obey him. Each spark died before it could form into anything useful. His astral energy trembled deep inside him, as if it wanted to respond but was locked behind an unseen barrier.
Another shockwave hit.
Sabre coughed violently, blood splattering onto the cold stone beneath him. His vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges, but he forced himself to stay conscious. His arms shook as he dragged himself forward, inch by painful inch.
Soren stepped out from the circle of elders.
In his palm, energy condensed into a sharp, glowing shape. It shone white and pure, like a blade forged entirely from light. The pressure it radiated made Sabre's skin crawl.
Sabre tried one last time.
He reached inward, calling for the lightning. Calling for the astral force.
Nothing answered.
Soren raised his hand.
"This is mercy," he said.
"No…" Sabre whispered. His voice was weak, barely audible.
"Please…"
The blade of light grew brighter.
Sabre's heartbeat slowed. His breathing became shallow. The world began to fade.
He saw Soren step closer, the glowing weapon poised above him.
And then—
Just as the light descended toward his chest—
Sabre's consciousness slipped away.
The hall, the elders, the pain—all of it vanished.
Everything went black.