The underground halls of the Association felt colder now.
Kahel followed Liora through twisting corridors lit by soft, floating crystals. Every few steps, they passed other initiates, groups of two or three, all wearing the same black band stitched with the broken-blade symbol.
Some ignored him.
Others glared.
Liora walked ahead without looking back, her hands tucked behind her head lazily.
"You feel it, right?" she said without turning around.
"Feel what?"
"The hunger," she said. "They don't like outsiders. Especially not self-taught ones."
Kahel didn't respond.
He didn't have to.
He could feel the stares drilling into his back.Could feel the sharp edges in every glance.
Like wolves waiting for the weakest to slip.
They reached a wide stone courtyard beneath a dome of grey rock.Qi pressure thickened the air.
All around, initiates trained, sparring, meditating, practicing strange techniques that twisted the light around their bodies.
At the center of the courtyard stood a large bronze bell engraved with ancient runes.
Liora pointed lazily at it.
"That's the Bell of Trials," she said. "Every provisional initiate has to ring it to move up."
Kahel studied the bell. It was covered in scratches and dents, a reminder of those who had tried and failed.
"You're not ready to ring it yet," Liora added. "First, we work on survival."
She walked to the center of an empty ring drawn into the stone and waved Kahel forward.
"Show me what you've got."
Kahel stepped into the circle, feeling dozens of eyes shift toward them.
Some curious.
Some eager.
Some waiting for him to fail.
Liora dropped into a stance low to the ground, one Kahel had never seen before.
It wasn't the rigid, formal stances he'd read about.
It was fluid. Shifting.
Like a wave ready to crash.
"Attack," she said simply.
Kahel moved.
He shot forward with a clean, sharp punch aimed at her ribs, fast enough to catch a normal fighter off guard.
Liora leaned aside without effort, her body weaving around the strike.
She tapped him lightly on the back of the neck with two fingers as he passed.
"If I were serious," she said calmly, "you'd already be unconscious."
Kahel slid back, resetting.
He attacked again.
A low kick. A spinning elbow.
Faster this time.
Liora danced around each strike, not even needing to block.
"You're relying too much on strength," she said. "Too much on instinct."
Kahel gritted his teeth.
"Instinct kept me alive."
"And it'll get you killed here."
She struck out, just once.
Kahel barely managed to block the open-palm hit aimed at his chest.The impact vibrated down his arms, staggering him back.
Her speed.Her control.It was on another level.
But Kahel didn't retreat.
He steadied himself, breathing deep, forcing his qi to flow smoother, faster.
Again.
He moved differently this time, not charging blindly, but feeling her rhythm.
Waiting.
Watching.
When he attacked, it was with patience, a sudden burst forward, low and tight.
Liora smiled, just slightly, as she caught his fist in her palm.
"Better," she said, stepping back. "You're not a complete idiot."
Kahel stood straight, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"What now?"
"Now," Liora said, turning to the watching crowd, "you fight them."
Kahel followed her gaze.
A group of five provisional initiates stood watching, among them the sneering boy from before, arms crossed and smirking.
"You think we're gonna let a stray get ahead of us?" the boy called.
Another stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
"Let's see if he even deserves to be here."
Liora shrugged, grinning.
"Welcome to the Association, Kahel. Survival starts now."
The first boy charged without warning.
Kahel met him head-on, their fists colliding mid-air with a crack of force that echoed across the courtyard.
Pain shot through Kahel's arm, the boy's qi was reinforced through his bones.
But Kahel didn't back down.
He shifted, using the impact to spin around and slam a low kick into the boy's side.
The boy grunted and stumbled.
Before Kahel could finish him, a second opponent rushed in.
A spinning kick aimed at Kahel's shoulder.
Kahel ducked low, feeling the air split above him, and swept the attacker's standing leg out from under him.
Another down.
But there were more.
Always more.
Pain.Noise.Shouts.The taste of iron in his mouth.
Kahel fought with everything he'd built in solitude.
Every scar.Every failure.Every lonely, bitter breath he'd taken training under the weight of grief and rage.
He moved like a blade honed too long against stone, sharp, but rough around the edges.
The initiates began to hesitate.
One by one, Kahel dropped them, not cleanly, not flawlessly, but with stubborn, relentless force.
By the time the last one fell, Kahel was bleeding from a cut on his brow, one eye swelling shut, knuckles split.
But he stood.
Alone.
Breathing hard.
Alive.
Around the courtyard, conversations stopped.The initiates stared.
Some curious.Some wary.Some angry.
Liora walked forward, clapping lazily.
"Not bad," she said. "You're tougher than you look."
Kahel wiped blood from his lip.
"This is only the beginning," she added, her voice low.
"You want to climb in this place?"
Kahel nodded once, steady.
"Then you'll have to bleed for every step."
Far above the courtyard, hidden in a carved alcove of the stone ceiling, Jalior leaned against the wall.
His arms folded.
His expression unreadable.
"Good," he murmured. "Very good."
But deep in the shadows beyond even Jalior's senses, another figure watched.
Silent.
Smiling.
Not everyone wanted Kahel to survive his climb.
And the real tests had only just begun.