Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne

Silence flooded the hall like poisoned wine in the wake of Kaen’s words. Heavy. Clinging. Paralyzing.

Kaen raised a brow, his gaze sweeping the room with icy amusement. "What, no one?" he said, dragging the last word like he was testing how deep his disdain could cut. "So much pride. So many great names... and not a single one with courage?"

King Aldrich stood still. Rigid. His eyes didn’t falter, but he didn’t take a step forward either. There was no shame in him—only something heavier. Like he’d known the answer before the question was even asked. He said nothing. And that, in itself, was his answer.

"Ha," Renald scoffed. "If someone from our generation is going to be humiliated, I'd rather it be her." He jerked his chin toward Calista. "I choose her."

Maren followed a second later. Silent. Back straight. Cold as ice.

"I choose her too," Thalos said, voice tinged with mockery. "No point challenging the Elders. Calista's the lowest rung. Might as well take what we can."

Calista didn’t flinch. She didn’t avert her gaze. She stood calm, untouched, as if their decision held no weight.

So that’s how you see me, she thought. The easy target.

She smiled, faintly. Almost imperceptibly.

This might be fun.

Sylphia watched it all unfold, wordless. Emotions churned in her chest, too many and too tangled to name. Part of her... wanted to speak. To step forward. To prove she wasn’t just the girl who knelt. That she could fight. That she had fire.

But she didn’t move.

She knew who stood beside her. People who could level a city with one hand. And she... she hadn’t even begun cultivating. At this moment, she was just a child—a little stronger than average, maybe, but nothing more.

Here, surrounded by giants... she was an ant.

If I stepped forward now... I’d make a fool of myself.

It wouldn’t make me stand out. It would only show I don’t know when to stand down.

Her eyes drifted to Caius. The boy who had been burning with shame moments ago, crushed beneath Kaen’s gaze... suddenly stepped forward.

"Me too!" he shouted. "I choose Calista too!"

His voice burned with fury. Frustration. Desperation.

"I’ll prove I’m not weak! That I’ve got more guts than the rest of you combined!"

He turned to glare at Aldrich’s siblings.

"You... you didn’t even have the courage to raise your hands!" he growled. "And me? Fifth Stage! And I’m stepping forward!"

Sylphia sighed internally. And that is exactly why no one takes you seriously, idiot.

But when she glanced at Calista... she was smiling.

At that very moment, Kaen looked at Calista too.

He said nothing. But his gaze lingered.

And then... another surprise.

"I do," said Veynessa.

Every head turned.

"I challenge Elder Yllara."

The hall froze. As if time itself had stopped flowing.

Renald’s eyes widened in disbelief. Maren pressed her lips tight, irritation flashing in her eyes. Thalos muttered under his breath:

"So this is how arrogance robs you of your shot."

It wasn’t a whisper. More like a public declaration of confusion.

"My daughter... had the courage not to kneel," Veynessa said slowly. "And I, as her mother and as a cultivator... I can’t take the easy way. If she could stand tall before overwhelming power, then I must too."

"Calista is the lowest stage," she continued, quietly but clearly. "Which is why I choose the harder path. Because only there can one truly grow."

Veynessa looked to her.

Calista met her gaze without surprise, as if she'd known this is exactly what her friend would choose. Their bond needed no words.

In Calista’s eyes, there was a flicker of amusement—and pride. A silent message: I knew you wouldn’t take the easy way.

"True growth... comes from facing what surpasses you. Not from choosing comfort, but from walking the path that hurts. That brings you to your knees and dares you to rise. If you’re not ready to fall... you’re not ready to rise."

The Elders exchanged looks. Elder Maerion dipped his head slightly, as if in respect. Elder Yllara, the one challenged, didn’t look offended—on the contrary, a subtle smile of approval curved her lips. Only Elder Fenthar remained unmoved. But his gaze on Veynessa... was deeper than before.

After Veynessa's words, Kaen shifted his gaze toward the rest—and then it landed on Sylphia. That arrogant smile returned to his face—the same one that had forced her to her knees before.

"Big words just a moment ago, girl," he said, voice dripping with cruel amusement. "And now that you have the chance... you're sitting there, tail between your legs?"

Sylphia raised her head. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were sharp as a blade.

"Because I know my place," she replied. "And I know when to step back."

After Sylphia's words, something flickered behind his eyes—just for a heartbeat. . The corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly.

Maybe... that little brat might amount to something after all.

Kaen's gaze swept the hall again, pausing on each person — checking if anyone else still had the guts to step forward

"That’s it?" he asked quietly, almost amused. "No one else wants to rise? No dreams of greatness? No desperate grabs for relevance?"

Silence. Only the echo of his voice lingered among the pillars.

Kaen snorted.

"Cowards."

He raised his hand.

The runes exploded. 

From mist, light, and darkness, a colossal coliseum emerged—as if ripped from the heart of legend. Tiered stands spiraled upward, surrounding a central arena that pulsed with raw energy, almost as if it were breathing.

At the same moment, a shimmering transparent barrier shot up between the arena and the stands. Its surface quivered gently, like a lake under wind, but it radiated the kind of strength that would stop even the mightiest blow.

Six massive pillars rose from the ground—each one unique, carved in the style matching its chosen cultivator. They looked like thrones carved from stone, towering and majestic. Instinctively, everyone knew: these were the seats of the six chosen.

Theron moved first, stepping onto his pillar with the ease of someone born to stand above. Then came Elder Fenthar, Elder Yllara, Elder Maerion, and Calista—each figure ascending to their designated place. Pharos's absence left the sixth pillar empty.

When they all stood upon their pillars, the coliseum trembled lightly. The air over the arena shimmered with anticipation. It was about to begin.

Members of the royal family  began filling the stands. 

The stands were divided—semi-circular sectors separated by subtle but palpable spatial barriers, like invisible curtains of energy. Each bloodline had its own section.

King Aldrich sat at the center of his sector, his face tense and heavy. Veynessa sat beside him, calm and focused. Renald, Maren, and Thalos spread to their seats with their children, forming separate clusters.

Sylphia sat beside her mother. Her gaze drifted constantly over the arena—the pillars, the barrier, the coliseum itself. She stared with a kind of fascination, as if trying to understand how something so immense could rise from nothing. Every detail seemed alive, pulsing. As if this place had a will of its own.

They sat together, side by side.

For a while, Sylphia said nothing. But her eyes locked onto one pillar—Calista’s. Of all the chosen, she had it the hardest. Almost everyone had selected her as their opponent. Sylphia knew Calista was the youngest, the weakest of the six.

And yet... she sat there with perfect composure. As if everything was under control.

Eventually, Veynessa leaned slightly toward her daughter.

"You don’t need to worry about her," she whispered.

Sylphia didn’t take her eyes off the arena.

"I’m not worried," she replied calmly. "I know she’ll win."

Her mother's smile was barely visible.

Each of them sank into their own thoughts. And each carried the same unspoken question: Who will fall first?

Above the coliseum, at the highest possible point, a throne materialized. Black as night, adorned with runes pulsing a deep, otherworldly blue.

Kaen appeared upon it without sound—as if he'd always been there.

He sat slowly, wearing a smile that could've meant amusement... or judgment.

"It’s time to begin," he declared, his voice ringing through every corner of the coliseum, echoing like the will of the heavens.

"Who will go first?"

"ME!" Caius shouted.

He leapt from the stands in a single smooth motion, as if the barrier didn’t exist—and it didn’t stop him. The transparent wall shimmered where he passed through, recognizing his intent.

At first, Sylphia frowned, unsure of what she’d just witnessed. She had assumed the barrier was meant to protect the audience from stray attacks—a one-way shield.

But when Caius passed through it effortlessly, something clicked.

You can enter it... but probably not leave.

Caius stepped into the center of the arena, chin held high.

But no one noticed that his hands were shaking.

Calista only watched.

And her smile never left her face.