Chapter 4:
The harsh glare of daylight assaulted my eyes as the grate above shrieked open. Gone was the suffocating darkness, replaced by a blinding brightness that made me squint.
"Everyone wake up! The time for your trials has come!" the heavy-set man from the pit bellowed down, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
A thick rope snaked down into our prison. One by one, the older children, gaunt and wary, were hauled out. Then it was our turn. The ascent was rough, the coarse fibers digging into my already scraped hands, but the prospect of escape spurred me upwards.
Emerging into the open air, I was struck by the sheer number of children gathered. Perhaps three hundred in total, a mix of ages, though many were older, their faces hardened by hardship. We were at the base of a colossal mountain, its peak lost in the hazy distance.
The instructors, a grim-faced bunch clad in dark leather, tossed each of us a meager piece of stale bread and a waterskin. It was enough to keep from starving , a cruel gesture that highlighted our worth as mere tools.
"Now that everyone has finished eating," the lean man with the branded cheek sneered, his dark eyes sweeping over our terrified faces, "let initiation start."
That was when the full weight of our situation crashed down. We were at the foot of a monstrous mountain, its summit impossibly far.
"There," the heavy-set man gestured with a scarred hand towards a barely discernible path winding upwards, a ribbon of stairs carved into the mountainside. "That is where you'll start. Those who reach the top, where the main quarters of the sect are, will each be given a pill to awaken their Veyra and earn the right to the sects disciple."
Veyra .
The word sparked a flicker of recognition in Lishen's memories. A source of power, unique to each individual. The reward for surviving this ordeal.
The heavy-set man's gaze intensified, his yellow eye glinting with malice. "But those who fail… I think you know what will happen to you, don't you?" His voice dripped with a bloodthirsty promise. "We have no use for the weak."
"Start!" he roared, and a wave of desperate energy surged through the crowd. Everyone surged forward, scrambling to gain an early advantage on the seemingly endless staircase.
Hours crawled by. The initial burst of energy faded, replaced by ragged breaths and aching limbs. The sheer incline of the mountain was relentless. I saw children collapsing by the wayside, their bodies trembling with exhaustion, their eyes filled with the dawning horror of failure.
The two friends I'd met in the pit, Joren and Lina, were beside me, their faces pale and strained. Their small hands gripped the rough stone steps, their bodies swaying precariously. I could see they were nearing their breaking point.
Yet, despite the grueling climb, I felt a strange resilience. My breath came steadily, my muscles burned, but not to the point of collapse. The "Terraform System," even passively, seemed to be aiding me. As long as my feet maintained contact with the earth, a subtle energy flowed through me, easing the strain and accelerating my recovery.
It wasn't a dramatic boost, but it was enough to keep me moving without the debilitating fatigue that gripped the others.
I couldn't abandon Joren and Lina. They had shown me kindness in that dark pit. I wouldn't let them fall now.
"Hey, you two," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "Put your hands on my shoulders. I'll help you climb."
"Thank… s…" Joren gasped, his grip weakening. Lina could only nod, her face etched with gratitude and exhaustion.
Without waiting, I positioned them on either side of me, their weight a significant burden, but one I could manage for now. I quickened my pace, pulling them along, step by agonizing step.
The strain on my mental focus increased, the subtle energy recovery feeling less potent under the added weight. I knew I couldn't sustain this indefinitely.
Further ahead, only a handful of the older children, their longer limbs and greater strength giving them an advantage, maintained a steady climb.
The majority of the initial rush had been swallowed by the mountain's unforgiving ascent.
High above, seemingly miles away, a figure stood watching from a rocky outcrop. He was an old man, his face weathered and lined, his eyes sharp and observant.
He watched the struggling mass of children, his expression unreadable. But as his gaze settled on the small figure of Lishen, resolutely pulling his two companions upwards, a faint smile touched his lips.
"Hmm," the old man murmured to himself, his voice carried away by the thin mountain air.
"He is quite strong… why not leave them behind and aim to finish first?." He watched as Lishen pressed on and could help and ask himself.