The sound of cracking stone reverberated between the flying rocks of the sect, audibly accompanied by falling debris. Sol suddenly found it very simple to manage the upkeep of his concentration skill. He was guessing his true emotions were wildly running rampant.

  He was utterly calm even as a core disciple appeared out of nowhere with a movement technique, silencing all talk among the young prospects in the crowd. Glancing over, it was satisfying to see Rax’Rathos speechless for a change. The younger demon had crossed his arms in front of his body, head tilted slightly, and observed with a raised eyebrow.

  Just like Sol, he could not believe it.

  The crowd was in equal parts stunned or suspicious, whispering among each other.

  “Feedback loop in the array. But what could have caused that?” The core disciple, a demon with dark green skin and hair that was half black and half white—almost giving it a gray coloration in motion—waved his hand, and the destroyed stone flew back, assembling itself with a loud grinding noise.

  A multitude of smaller orbs was revealed for a moment, forming an elaborate circle. Was that a featureless array? Nyx took note; a book had described that as drawing formation cycles with energy rather than material. So it was done by connecting nodes.

  Then the core disciple stared at Nyx’Sol. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he let a wave of Qi wash over the suspect, searching for an explanation. Sol’s muscles flexed at the invading presence. Then the core disciple groaned audibly. “Do these families have no shame these days? For a sixteen-year-old!” He threw his hands briefly up in exasperation, then continued making adjustments to the invisible array, adding several essences from his pouch.

  Sol had not known that essences could also be stored for later use. That was interesting to know. “You can store essences like this?” he asked the core disciple, his lack of fear or emotion making him oblivious to the potential danger. “I thought they needed to be harvested fresh.”

  “You better not test my mood. If your family had not sent you here with an established spirit bond right after awakening, I would not have had to deal with this overloading mess,” he sighed. "Be silent," the core disciple warned when Sol opened his mouth to reply.

  So instead, he nodded. Apparently, the spirit bond’s internal spirit energy had overloaded the orb. Sol had no idea what a feedback loop was in the context of arrays, but maybe the orb was amplifying the minimal amount of energy an awakened non-cultivator could bring to pass?

  And the spirit energy was amplified and broke the orb? A shame that he could not ask more; this was highly interesting to him.

  A few minutes later, the orb’s array had been fixed, now with the added functionality of creating two duplicate orbs. They seemed as solid as the original, apparently done to catch up with an established timeline.

  The main orb showed “Nyx’Sol” again, so he stepped closer and pressed his right hand on the stone. His name disappeared and was replaced with a two-digit number.

  “81.”

  Sol returned to the crowd while his focus skill slowly faded. He was surprised that he had been able to maintain it for that long. For future use, he would need a name for it, to give it a clearer concept and find out better how it operated.

  Rax’Rathos was furious. He said nothing as Sol returned to the crowd, standing quietly near him. But his rage was now a cold fury. The spectacle of destroying the orb, paired with the same talent assessment as himself? It must have shoved him all the way from slightly angered loud disagreement to silent rage.

  “14.” “32.” “28.”

  Nyx’Sol was just glad that he would not immediately have to fight the younger demon off, especially since he seemed much more competent in hand-to-hand combat.

  This newfound ability to focus his emotions into a comfortable calm was truly thrilling. The problem was that he had no idea how it really worked. It somehow fed off his emotions, and the resulting state felt good, but he was unsure if it was something that could be used for every situation.

  It was not just a calm, collected state of mind, but rather the calm before striking with an attack. A battle-ready mind. In retrospect, he had almost considered that core disciple like he would have to retaliate against him—combative and ready.

  “44.” “11.” “26.”

  Sol eyed the rest of the crowd and slowly counted. There were roughly fifty people; the assessment would still take a while.

  “56.” “24.” “10.”

  The demon that had just barely scratched by the requirements with ten points was visibly relieved. Sol had to chuckle. He could relate. It was difficult to tell where your talent would be. He would have never estimated his own to be that high.

  “What’s so funny?” Rax’Rathos said quietly, clearly intending it for him.

  Sol felt anxiety growing in his chest, but his calming technique would not activate. “Nothing much,” he said calmly, glancing at the shorter, red-skinned demon.

  His fury was like a bonfire. Standing next to it, you could feel the heat. It was also very apparent that he was holding himself back. “How did you do it?”

  Had the younger demon been fooled into believing that Sol was a lot stronger than he thought? Was that why he held back?

  “Tell me,” he demanded, angrier this time. “How did you do it?”

  Sol took a deep breath and tried to enter focus again. This time his ability obliged. “How did I do what?” he asked innocently. Somehow, he could not help but provoke an attack. He just wanted to see what would happen.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The shackled rage, held in place by a thin line of reason, broke. “How did you—” he began, growing louder and louder with each word. “CHEAT THE SCORE TO BE EXACTLY LIKE MINE!” Rax’Rathos yelled, his strong voice carrying through the crowd.

  People that had already been assessed turned toward the commotion, expecting another fight to break out, another grudge match settled before admittance. “You think his Grace of Undying has caused the explosion?” someone speculated audibly. “No, those only protect you from death. Are you an idiot?” another attendee dismissed him.

  “I do not wish to fight you, Rax’Rathos,” Sol said with a calm voice, holding his arms behind his back, mentally ready to be attacked. He was sure that the younger demon was stronger than him, but his anger might cloud his judgment. “It is just a coincidence that we received the same score.”

  The words, like fuel on a flame, ignited the inevitable battle. With a loud scream, Rax’Rathos invoked his bronze skin, making quick, well-practiced foot motions toward Sol. He slid over the plaza’s stone floor, methodically closing the distance to then strike with his right fist, turning his entire body with the punch in a fluid motion.

  Nyx sidestepped it, having paid close attention to where his opponent had placed his feet. Rathos shifted his shoulder slightly; the telegraphed punch also ended a few centimeters short of Sol’s chest. He felt a slight smile creep onto his face. This was the same feeling he had during the fight with the Sword God, only for it to be denied time and time again.

  The misses made his opponent channel even more rage, unleashing a short staff from his robes and, with a quick gap-closer, brought it down toward Sol’s head with a heavy strike.

  The strike never connected. A demon in a black traveling cloak and hood had put themselves between the two young demons. Sol could smell a putrid stench that reminded him of mold and rot. His voice made his skin crawl, and a cold feeling ran down his neck.

  “My, what eager little… children you are.” His voice was a rasping whisper, dry and unnatural, echoing as if trapped in another world. “Do not be hasty.”

  After Rax’Rathos retrieved his staff into his robes, he bowed. “I apologize, honorable elder of the Verdant Reflection Sect.”

  Sol moved to do the same, but the elder had turned and placed his hand on his shoulder, where his claws buried themselves uncomfortably into his robe.

  “I see that you both are eager to fight,” he said, his raspy voice echoing uncomfortably in their minds. Rax’Rathos grimaced briefly. “The same talent, a young genius from a well-known family and a mysterious beastmaster.”

  He emphasized the last word as he turned to Sol, the bare hint of a smile forming under the shadow of his hood. “You will both enter the temple of our ancestor the very day one of you first advances into the first step of the first realm.”

  “You will pray, give your blood in thanks, and complete a summoning. Both of you. I will come and see to you after that,” his voice, a dark promise rather than encouragement. “Cease your fighting among one another. That is an order.”

  Nyx’Sol and Rax’Rathos bowed and acquiesced to the elder’s wishes. “Yes, honorable elder of the Verdant Reflection Sect.”

  Sol could not help but feel thrilled. So many interesting things were happening, all at once.

  They waited for the elder to walk up to the orbs, inspect what seemed to be the work of the core disciple, and then vanish, his speed betraying his slow and raspy, echoing voice.

  “I had you,” Rax’Rathos claimed. “If he had not intervened.”

  Sol disagreed. He had aimed for a counter after dodging. His focus had disappeared again, making him feel his emotions more clearly. Aside from an intense feeling of something wrong that he connected to the sect elder, he mostly felt an intense sense of joy.

  His regained memory had made him stronger than he would have imagined. Even if it was only a snippet of an entire life, it had unveiled a technique to him that was very useful. He wondered how a fight between him and the younger genius would look in the future. Would he outgrow him because of his prior training and talent as a young genius?

  “We agree,” Sol said with a nod. “To disagree.” Then he walked toward the core disciple that had ordered all the passing grades to assemble.

  “I will reach Skin Tempering before you do,” Rax’Rathos growled. “See how you like getting summoned without cultivation.” Then the younger, red-skinned demon stormed off to his friends.

  Sol chuckled. He had never seen anyone be so consistently angry. It was fun to tease him, but his confidence was really something to admire.

  “You think he is funny?” a timid, gentle voice spoke, its owner appearing next to him. She wore a plain black mask with red fire markings.

  Sol shook his head. “I like him. I think he is a lot of fun.” His eyes shone with a glint of mischief.

  She shook her head. “You are mad. He is from the most famous family for Skin Refinement Techniques. He will advance tomorrow and drag you into a summoning that you will never return from.”

  Sol shrugged. “How do you know?”

  “Because without cultivation, you will not be able to control otherworldly powers. At all. You will die helplessly, struggling without any blessing.” Her voice grew annoyed, shifting from a timid, gentle tone to a cute little growl.

  “NINETY-FOUR? WHO?” Rax’Rathos yelled audibly as they all gathered in front of the core disciple.

  “Someone reached 94 points?” Sol asked curiously.

  “That would be me,” she said casually.

  That made Sol raise an eyebrow. He had expected there to be more than one person with higher talent than himself. In fact, he had been worried about even passing. He had no formal training, as the Eternal Blossom Sect’s philosophy was to bet on a humble upbringing rather than rapid advancement for its children.

  The core disciple’s voice drowned out all conversation. “Congratulations. You are hereby candidates to the Verdant Reflection Sect. However, you are not disciples of the sect.” He let his Qi wash over the attendees, an invasive feeling settling behind Sol’s eyes. It revealed the invisible staircases that spanned all around each hovering boulder, went inside invisible buildings and courtyards, and gave a massive outlook on how large the sect even was.

  And it was possible that there were hidden staircases and buildings so well-hidden that they could not even be seen with the enhancement the core disciple had just given them temporarily.

  “You have six months to advance into the first step of cultivation, Skin Tempering. If you fail, the sect will exclude you from applying for ten years. Then you may apply again.” He eyed Sol with an annoyed gaze before beckoning them all onto the stairs. “Follow me; I will see you to your living quarters.”

  The timid girl raised the issue once again. “You should absolutely worry. I don’t understand how you can be so confident. He is—”

  Sol raised his hand, signaling her to stop. She was not wrong.

  “You are correct,” he said, making her tilt her head fully in his direction.

  He took a deep breath, making himself aware of all his emotions in the moment. Then he let them fall away.

  “I should worry. And I do,” he sighed. “I am scared of failure. I am scared to make mistakes and feel restless just thinking about how to improve.”

  “Then how are you so confident?” she tried again.

  “Rax’Rathos makes me admire his confidence as much as I fear confrontation with him. But you are wrong,” he spoke softly. “I am not confident.”

  “But when everything falls away…” His face twisted into a childlike smile, amusement shimmering in his eyes. “I just think it’s so much fun.”