Chapter 25: The Relic’s Call

In the central courtyard of the Vale Estate, the juniors stood before the statue of the Vale Founder, its stone sword gleaming under the morning sun. Vale Harth, the Patriarch, stood tall, his silver hair stark against his dark robes. Beside him, Vale Alric held the golden scroll, its runes faintly glowing. The air was still, heavy with the weight of the moment.

Alric unrolled the scroll, and a low hum echoed through the courtyard. The ground trembled slightly, and an ancient gate materialized before the statue. Its stone arches were carved with spiraling runes, weathered yet pulsing with energy. Beyond the gate, a faint silver light shimmered, hinting at the world within.

Harth's voice cut through the silence, steady and commanding. "The Vale Relic is open. Within, the spiritual energy is far denser than our world, and time flows slower—one day outside is twenty to thirty days inside. Your task is to cultivate. Draw in the energy, solidify your foundation, and advance your realm. Only when you reach the Third Realm may you explore the Relic's trials. Go now, and honor our blood."

The juniors moved toward the gate, their steps quiet but purposeful. Arin felt the hum in his chest stir, stronger than ever, as he approached the portal. Lyra walked beside him, her eyes wide but focused, her Spirit Initiate Stage aura lively yet unrefined. They didn't speak, each sensing the gravity of what lay ahead.

Arin stepped through the gate, Lyra at his side. The transition was smooth, like passing through a warm mist. One moment, they stood on stone; the next, they emerged into a small, vibrant world within the Vale Relic.

The landscape was serene—a rolling meadow of soft, glowing moss, dotted with crystal clusters that pulsed faintly. Slender trees with shimmering leaves swayed gently, their branches forming natural canopies. A clear stream wound through the meadow, its waters sparkling with spiritual energy. The sky above was a soft violet, streaked with gold, its light bathing the world in warmth. The spiritual energy was thick, almost tangible, flowing into Arin's meridians with every breath.

The juniors dispersed silently, each seeking their own space to cultivate. No one spoke or lingered together; they were strangers bound only by blood, their focus inward. Arin and Lyra walked a short distance, drawn to a small grove where the moss was thicker and a single crystal tree stood, its leaves glowing softly. The hum in Arin's chest pulsed in rhythm with the tree, marking this as the right spot.

"This'll do," Arin said, settling onto the moss in a cross-legged position.

Lyra nodded, sitting beside him, her posture mirroring his. "Let's make the most of it," she said, closing her eyes.

Arin closed his eyes too, centering himself. The Relic's energy was like a vast river, gentle but powerful. He recalled Master Rin's teachings: Don't push. Follow. His dantian spun slowly, drawing in the energy in controlled streams. It was pure, filling his meridians with warmth, urging his core to grow. He guided it carefully, strengthening his Early Spirit Initiate Stage foundation, ensuring no strain on his meridians.

Time blurred within the Relic's dilated flow. Hours stretched into days, days into weeks. Arin sank deeper into meditation, the hum in his chest guiding him like a steady heartbeat. The energy flowed smoothly, expanding his dantian, refining his meridians. He felt his cultivation climb steadily, from Early to Middle Spirit Initiate Stage, then higher still. The barrier to the Late Stage fell, and he pressed on, his core growing denser, more vibrant.

Lyra's aura shifted beside him, brightening as she progressed. Arin didn't open his eyes, but he sensed her reaching the Middle Spirit Initiate Stage, her energy stabilizing. She was focused, driven, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Weeks passed in the Relic's time, though only hours ticked by outside. Arin's dantian pulsed stronger, its edges sharp and defined. The energy he absorbed was no longer just fuel—it was part of him, woven into his spirit. He reached the Peak of the Spirit Initiate Stage, his core brimming with power, teetering on the edge of the Third Realm. The barrier to the Spirit Core Stage loomed, a thin but formidable wall. He could push through with a final surge, but he held back, heeding Harth's words to solidify his foundation first.

The hum in his chest thrummed, clear and resonant, whispering of a golden spiral. A faint vision flickered—a spiral spinning in a void, watched by a presence beyond the stars. Arin let it fade, focusing on his core. He was ready, poised to break through when the time was right.

He opened his eyes, his aura steady and potent. Lyra still meditated, her face calm, her Middle Stage aura solid. Around the meadow, other juniors sat in their own spaces, their auras brighter, some nearing breakthroughs. The Relic's energy flowed endlessly, patient, waiting for them to rise.

Arin exhaled, the hum in his chest a quiet promise. The Third Realm was within reach, and with it, the Relic's trials. He was ready to answer its call.