Three days after his return from the Twilight Ravine, Kaelen found himself summoned to the old stone courtyard at the heart of Valewind Institute — a place rarely used except for the most secret of matters.
The moon hung low and full above the courtyard, bathing the cracked stones in pale silver.
Waiting there was a single figure — cloaked in dark blue, a silver insignia gleaming on their chest: an infinity knot, woven from endless loops.
The figure held a scroll bound with black wax.
Kaelen approached cautiously, hand near his sword.
The figure bowed shallowly and spoke in a voice that was neither male nor female — a soft, layered tone that echoed strangely.
"Kaelen Drayce."
"You have been observed. Tested. Found worthy of potential."
"You are invited to undertake the Trial of Forgotten Kings."
"Succeed — and you may ascend beyond the limits of ordinary talents. Fail… and you will die, alone and unmourned."
The figure handed Kaelen the scroll and, without another word, dissolved into mist, leaving only silence behind.
Kaelen stared at the parchment in his hand.
Something inside him — instinct, fate, destiny — whispered:
This is the path.
The path no one else can walk.
Later — His Room
Kaelen unrolled the scroll.
Inside was a map — hand-drawn, ancient, the ink faded and cracked.
At the center was a name written in runic script:
"The Crownless Sanctum."
Coordinates were listed below, pointing to the Wastes of Ardent Hollow — a dead land beyond even the Obsidian Guild territories, where only the desperate or damned dared tread.
At the bottom of the scroll, a final warning:
"Only those unbound by fate may enter. Beware those who would chain you."
Kaelen's hand tightened on the parchment.
He didn't hesitate.
He would go.
Two Nights Later — The Wastes of Ardent Hollow
The journey took two days by borrowed horse — across rocky badlands where twisted trees clawed at the sky and broken ruins jutted from the earth like ancient bones.
Kaelen moved carefully, senses sharp.
Every step deeper into the Hollow felt heavier, the air thick with ancient magic and forgotten rage.
At last, he found it.
A massive doorway half-buried in a crumbling hill, its surface covered in glyphs too old for any living mage to read.
The Crownless Sanctum.
As Kaelen approached, the glyphs shimmered.
A rumbling echoed beneath the earth.
And the doors slowly creaked open, revealing a yawning black maw.
Inside the Sanctum
The air was cold — ancient — smelling of iron, stone, and memories.
Kaelen descended wide steps into darkness, sword drawn, every nerve on edge.
Torches flared to life as he moved, as if the Sanctum itself sensed him.
He passed through hallways lined with crumbling statues — kings and queens of old, their crowns shattered, their faces erased by time.
The message was clear.
Power here belonged not to those born royal — but to those who seized destiny with their own hands.
The First Chamber
At the center of a vast stone hall, Kaelen found a raised dais.
Upon it, a single, ancient sword floated — black steel edged with silver, crackling faintly with restrained power.
But he wasn't alone.
Shadows detached from the walls — five figures cloaked in dark armor, eyes burning with crimson light.
Not men.
Not beasts.
Something in between.
The System chimed urgently:
[Trial Initiated: Defeat the Crownless Shadows.]
[Bonus Condition: Survive without outside assistance.]
Kaelen smiled grimly.
Bring it.
The Shadows attacked — silent as death.
Two lunged for his flanks, blades flashing.
Kaelen twisted aside, parrying one strike, ducking another.
He countered — a swift, brutal slash — but their bodies dissolved into mist, reforming behind him.
Fast.
Too fast for ordinary warriors.
But Kaelen was not ordinary.
He tapped the mana inside him, letting it flood his veins.
Arcane Step.
He vanished — a blur of speed — reappearing behind the nearest Shadow.
His sword struck true, slicing through the creature's back in a burst of blue-white light.
The Shadow howled, disintegrating into ash.
One down.
Four to go.
They adapted quickly — shifting tactics, coordinating attacks.
Kaelen fought harder.
Sweat blinded him.
Pain lanced through his side where a blade grazed him.
His lungs burned.
But his mind was clear.
He needed more than strength.
He needed evolution.
As he moved, the System whispered:
[Fusion Path Update: Warrior/Mage Fusion Level 2 Available.]
[Unlocking Skill: Arcane Reaver.]
Kaelen gritted his teeth, drawing every last drop of mana and rage into himself.
Arcane Reaver.
His sword ignited with spiraling runes — half warrior might, half arcane devastation.
He swung.
The blade tore through two Shadows at once, the force blowing apart stone pillars and cracking the very floor.
Only two Shadows remained.
They hesitated now — even these soulless constructs sensing death approaching.
Kaelen pressed the advantage, chaining Arcane Step and Arcane Breaker together in a seamless dance of light and steel.
Within moments, the last Shadows fell, their death-cries fading into silence.
Breathing hard, Kaelen stumbled to the dais.
The ancient sword pulsed once — acknowledging him.
And then shattered into a thousand motes of silver light, each piece sinking into Kaelen's skin.
The System roared in his mind:
[Trial Complete.]
[Jack of All Trades — Rank: C-Class Achieved.]
[Fusion Path: Warrior/Mage Hybrid: Unlocked Fully.]
[New Skill Acquired: Arcane Sovereign's Blade.]
Kaelen dropped to his knees, overwhelmed by the surge of power.
He felt stronger, faster, sharper — not just physically, but spiritually.
He was no longer walking the paths of others.
He was forging his own.
And the world — kings, gods, guilds — would have to reckon with him.
Soon.
Very soon.