Zhen Hu hadn't truly slept since the trial began. Not with peace, not with clarity. His body ached from the strain of suppressing his energy. His mind burned with the weight of secrets too large for his realm.
He lay in a quiet pavilion chamber, offered only to accused disciples too dangerous for a common cell. The walls shimmered faintly with suppressive seals, carefully attuned to Zen flow. But what those seals could not suppress, what even the Oracles hadn't sensed—was already stirring.
The deeper he breathed, the more he felt it. A beat beneath his breath. A rhythm not his own.
That night, when exhaustion finally conquered his resistance, Zhen Hu collapsed into darkness.
But it wasn't sleep.
It was arrival.
The moment his mind left the physical realm, the world shifted.
He was no longer in his body.
He stood in a vast emptiness—neither dark nor light, but a realm that felt… unfinished. Incomplete. There were no walls, no stars, no sky. Only whispers. Fleeting shadows. Movements in the edges of vision.
Then came a voice.
"You were not supposed to survive the forest."
Zhen Hu spun.
From the void, a figure emerged. It wasn't solid—its form flickered like a flame struggling to hold its shape. And yet, it radiated a pressure so ancient and oppressive, his Aethonix-bound body trembled even in this mental space.
He stepped back, unconsciously reaching for Zen that wasn't there.
The voice spoke again, this time like a memory that bled into his thoughts.
"You were supposed to die with the others. But your emptiness—your flaw—became a vessel."
Zhen Hu steadied his breath. "Who… what are you?"
The being tilted its head slightly, amused by the question.
"Once, I held a name. But names are dust where I come from. You would not understand it."
"Try me."
Silence.
Then it answered, and the air around Zhen Hu dimmed.
"I am Vaelir-Kyn, Warden of the Twelfth Pillar of the Vaelryn Realm."
Zhen Hu blinked, heart stuttering. "That realm… I've never heard of it."
"You wouldn't. It predates your lineage. Predates even the Kaelos Realm. Before your Zen. Before the Cycle of Twelve. We were the architects. The foundation from which your world sprouted like weeds through ruin."
The being took a step closer, and Zhen Hu saw a trace of its form—a broken crown of glowing bone, floating above empty eye sockets that bled starlight.
Zhen Hu swallowed hard.
"What do you want from me?"
"To awaken. But you are not ready."
The space around them flickered with unstable memory. He saw images—brief, incomplete flashes. Cities made from light, mountains that drifted across crimson skies, and a war… no, a cataclysm—worse than what the Epochal Realm records dared speak of.
"Why am I seeing this?" Zhen Hu asked.
"Because you asked. Because you carry me. Because your soul, hollowed of Zen, provided a vessel strong enough to hold a drop of Vaelryn."
Zhen Hu clenched his fists. "Then why do I feel… broken?"
"You are," the being said flatly. "But not beyond repair. In fact, brokenness was the only condition that could make you whole."
Zhen Hu fell silent. The air here tasted like ash and memory.
"Why show yourself now?" he asked.
Vaelir-Kyn's voice became heavier, colder.
"Because your Nytherion has stirred me. Because the Aethonix within you reached beyond its limit. Because in the battle with the one named Vyrinth, I glimpsed an echo of what I once was. But it wasn't me who possessed you. It wasn't even Nytherion.
It was something else."
Zhen Hu's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"Beneath the threshold of all Zen lies something raw. Something old. Something even I once feared."
The being paused, the weight of its thoughts pressing into Zhen Hu like tides over stone.
"You must prepare," it said at last. "Your trial is a distraction. Your Sect is blind. The real war is not fought in temples, but in souls."
Zhen Hu frowned. "Then what do I do?"
The answer came slowly.
"Climb. Rise. Reach the Ascendant Realm. Only from there can you open the Gate."
"Gate?"
"Yes. The place within you where the past sleeps. Where I lie dormant. You are not yet worthy to hold me fully. The Ascendant Realm is your test. Beyond that… we walk together."
Zhen Hu took a step forward, confusion and defiance mixing in his voice.
"Why should I trust you?"
Vaelir-Kyn did not hesitate.
"Because you will not survive what's coming without me."
Then, the void around Zhen Hu began to dissolve. The walls of the dream shattered like glass, and everything turned to smoke.
One final sentence reached him before he woke.
"Awaken, Zhen Hu. The real trial begins tomorrow."
---
He gasped, sitting upright in his bed, drenched in sweat.
His fingers trembled.
His heart raced.
But worst of all…
That name echoed in his chest—Vaelir-Kyn.
Even the Zen suppressing seals around him flickered for a heartbeat. A shadow clung to the ceiling, then vanished.
Zhen Hu stood, the first rays of dawn sliding through the thin curtains.
Tomorrow, the second day of the trial would begin.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure if the enemy was outside the Sect...
…or within his very soul.