200. Barbarian Fort
A month before Wei Xuan and his group stepped into the forest surrounding the Ancient Mountain Range, deeper within the vast wilderness, where the towering peaks of the mountains were visible even through the thick green miasma, a lone stone fort stood in silent defiance of time.
The fort, built from dark gray stone, was weathered yet sturdy, its walls reinforced with crude yet effective craftsmanship. Moss and vines clung to the outer walls, blending the structure with the surrounding jungle. Despite its aged appearance, the fort was no ruin—it was alive, pulsing with purpose.
From the dense undergrowth of the forest, a group of barbarians emerged, moving in disciplined silence toward the fort. At first glance, they resembled humans, but a closer look revealed their distinct differences. Their skin, white and rough like weathered stone, was covered in black rune markings, each symbol pulsing faintly with an unknown energy. Unlike humans, they bore no hair on their bodies—no beards, no eyebrows, no strands upon their heads. Their sheer size and musculature made them imposing, both men and women alike built like living statues of war.
Their upper bodies were clad in armor seemingly made of stone, forged directly onto their skin as if it were a part of them. The lower halves were wrapped in the pelts of fierce beasts, crudely fashioned into rugged pants. They carried weapons fashioned from the bones of creatures long slain—massive clubs, crude axes, and spears with jagged stone tips.
As they neared the fort, their leader—a towering warrior with a rune-covered face and a massive bone axe strapped to his back—raised a fist, signaling a halt. His golden eyes flickered through the mist as he turned to his companions.
''"Inside the fort, maintain your behavior. There are warriors from many tribes in the fort, and do not let them look down on us,"'' he rumbled in a deep, gravelly voice.
The warriors around him nodded solemnly, gripping their weapons tighter. The forest whispered around them, the green mist curling like a living thing. Something was coming—and the stone-clad barbarians would be ready.
As they approached the heavy wooden gates, reinforced with slabs of stone, a pair of guards stood watch. These warriors bore the same rune-covered skin and hairless forms, though their armor was more refined, embedded with sharper, jagged etchings that signified their rank. They eyed the approaching group with practiced wariness before one of them, a scarred veteran with a thick battle-axe resting against his shoulder, stepped forward.
"State your name and tribe," he demanded, his voice calm but authoritative.
The leader of the group squared his shoulders. "I am Orak of the Black Stone Tribe. We seek to garrison within the fort."
The guard studied them for a moment before nodding. "You may enter. Keep to your own, and do not stir trouble. The chieftains are watching."
With a creak, the heavy gates groaned open, revealing the inner courtyard of the fort. The air inside was thick with the scent of sweat, fire, and earth. Warriors from different tribes were scattered about, some sharpening weapons, others engaged in heated sparring, their stone-like bodies colliding with resounding thuds.
Orak led his group through the fort, their presence drawing a few curious gazes but no immediate hostility. A few warriors from other tribes muttered among themselves, but none openly challenged them.
A younger warrior, draped in a fur-lined cloak, approached them, his black runes glowing faintly in the dim torchlight. "Rooms have been prepared. You will be taken there now." His tone was respectful but firm.
Without protest, Orak and his warriors followed the youth through the stone corridors of the fort. They were led to a large chamber where simple, sturdy beds lined the walls. It was a place meant for warriors, with no luxuries, only function. The younger warriors dispersed into their assigned quarters, while Orak and a younger boy, bearing a striking resemblance to him, were given a room together.
The boy looked up at Orak expectantly. "Will we fight soon?"
Orak placed a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "No, they will give us some time to get familiar. Then we will join a hunting party to hunt ferocious beasts."
The boy nodded, his eyes burning with quiet determination. Outside, the fort remained alive with the murmurs of warriors, all waiting for the battles yet to come.
As the fire in their chamber crackled, casting flickering shadows across the rough stone walls, Orak turned to his son, his expression grave. "Listen to me carefully, Rokan. Do not rush into the Enlightened Realm. Stay in the Mortal Realm for a while longer."
Rokan's brow furrowed. "But, Father, I am ready. Others my age have already begun their advancement—"
Orak silenced him with a sharp look. "Strength is not built on haste. Your foundation must be deep, unshakable, like the mountains. If you advance too soon, you will regret it later." He exhaled, his voice tinged with something rare—regret. "I speak from experience. My foundation was weak when I advanced, and because of that, I have remained stuck. No matter how I train, I cannot step into the Source Realm."
The firelight reflected in Rokan's eyes as he absorbed his father's words. "Then… how do I strengthen my foundation?"
Orak's lips curled into a grim smile. "Blood. The blood of a Source Realm ferocious beast. A single drop contains enough power to refine your body, temper your bones, and deepen your foundation beyond normal limits. That is why I called our tribesmen together and bought all younger members—those at the peak of the Mortal Realm will need this as well. We will hunt, and we will claim the blood of a powerful beast."
Rokan clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. "Then can we hunt source realm ferocious beast?" Rokan thought his father was only in the peak enlightened realm and that 10 peak enlightened realms were no match against a source realm ferocious beast.
Orak nodded in approval, gripping his son's shoulder firmly. "No, but we can earn merit killing ferocious beasts below the source realm and exchange blood drops of ferocious beasts of the source realm."
Elsewhere in the fort,
Inside the fort, in a large stone chamber lit by flickering torches, six figures sat around a massive wooden table. They were the chieftains of various tribes, gathered to discuss the situation within the fort and the growing changes in the world. Each of them wore garments embedded with small magical stones, their presence radiating authority and power.
A tall, broad-shouldered woman with sharp features and dark runic markings across her bare arms leaned forward. Her name was 'Varka', and she was one of the most influential warriors among the tribes. "The time has come," she said, her voice even but heavy with meaning. "The spiritual energy of the world is returning."
Her words drew a tense silence.
Varka's piercing eyes swept over the others before she continued, "If the stone race truly returns, what will we do? Will we surrender to them as their lost kin, or will we resist?"
A grizzled, older warrior with thick scars crisscrossing his arms scoffed. His name was 'Torhan'. "They may never return," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "They left this realm long ago. And if the records are true, traveling between realms is no simple task. Even for them."
Across the table, another female warrior, 'Keshna', rested her chin on her fist, her dark eyes thoughtful. "Whether they return or not, we must be prepared," she said. "Even if the stone race never steps back into this world, others will. Some of the races that sealed themselves within the Ancient Mountain Range may start to unseal themselves when they discover the return of spiritual energy. We should increase our patrols."
A muscular warrior, 'Drakhan', nodded in agreement. "Keshna is right. My scouts have already spotted something troubling—" He paused for a moment, then continued. "A ferocious beast in the True Source Realm is attempting to break through to the Source King Realm."
This revelation sent a ripple of unease through the room.
A younger, more cautious warrior named 'Jorak' furrowed his brow. "We never hunted them before because we knew they would fail. Before the spiritual energy began returning to this realm, no creature or warrior could hope to break through to the Source King Realm. But now... now we cannot be certain."
A heavy silence fell over the table as the implications sank in. If the beast succeeded, it would become an unstoppable force within the mountain range.
Finally, the last member of the group, a battle-hardened woman named 'Shira', exhaled sharply. "We cannot take that risk. We hunt it tonight."
The others nodded in agreement. Five of them would leave to hunt the beast while one remained behind to guard the fort.
As the group left the chamber, each warrior went their separate ways to prepare for the hunt. Varka strode with purpose through the stone corridors of the fort, her steps echoing against the walls. She reached a large chamber, well-lit by glowing fire crystals embedded in the walls. The flickering light cast long shadows, but the chamber was warm, a place of strength and discipline.
Inside, a young girl moved through a series of precise martial forms, her breath controlled, her body steady. She was focused, sweat glistening on her pale skin, her black rune markings barely visible under the dim light. Varka watched her for a moment before speaking.
"Enough," Varka said, her voice firm.
The girl snapped out of her concentration, stopping immediately. She turned and bowed respectfully before stepping forward to stand before Varka.
"Sit," Varka commanded, lowering herself onto a stone bench. The girl remained standing, awaiting her mentor's words.
"You are at the peak of the Mortal Realm," Varka stated. "Tell me, how will you break through to the Enlightened Realm?"
The girl's expression remained calm, but a spark of determination lit up her amber eyes. "To step into the Enlightened Realm, one must comprehend a law. The energy derived from that law must merge with the inner energy within my body. However, with no spiritual energy in the world, I cannot absorb it directly. So, I must slowly refine my inner energy, transforming it into the energy of the law I choose to understand."
Varka nodded in approval. "And what law have you chosen?"
The girl lifted her head slightly. "The Law of Light."
Varka raised an eyebrow. "Light, hmm? An uncommon path among our kind." She fell into thought for a moment. Fire and light were not entirely separate—her mastery of the Fire Law contained aspects of light, particularly in heat and brilliance. She could provide some guidance.
She studied the girl for a moment longer. "When do you intend to break through?"
The girl's expression turned serious. "In a month, if my understanding deepens enough. As of now, my comprehension of the Law of Light has not reached the necessary threshold."
Varka nodded. "Good. Do not rush. A weak foundation will only hinder you in the future. Continue refining your understanding."
The girl bowed again. "Yes, Mentor."
Varka waved a hand. "Return to your practice."
Without hesitation, the girl stepped back and resumed her training, her movements even sharper than before. Varka, satisfied, moved to the center of the chamber, lowering herself to the stone floor. She closed her eyes, steadying her breath as she prepared for the battle ahead. The hunt tonight would not be simple. She needed to be at her peak.
In the dead of night, five figures slipped silently from the fort, their forms blending into the darkness. The only sounds were the soft crunch of their boots against the earth and the distant whispers of nocturnal creatures in the forest. Their expressions were solemn, their bodies tense with anticipation. This was no ordinary hunt.
Moving westward, they navigated through the dense forest, their keen eyes fixed on the towering silhouette of the mountain ahead. The air grew thick, almost suffocating, as they neared their destination. Soon, a massive cave opening came into view, yawning like the mouth of a sleeping beast. Jagged rock formations jutted out from its edges, and a faint, unnatural energy pulsed from within.
Varka exchanged a glance with the others. No words were needed. They had come prepared for this. One by one, they stepped into the cave, their weapons at the ready.
The deeper they ventured, the heavier the air became. The walls of the cavern glowed faintly with an eerie grey light, remnants of the beast's powerful presence. A deep, rumbling growl echoed through the tunnels, sending a shiver down their spines.
Then, in an instant, the silence shattered. A deafening explosion rocked the cave, shaking the very foundation of the mountain. Dust and debris filled the air as the five warriors sprinted back toward the entrance. Their mission was complete—they had awakened the beast.
A ferocious roar tore through the night, shaking the trees outside the cave. A massive lion burst from the depths, its red eyes burning with fury. A dense grey energy swirled around its body like a raging storm, warping the very air around it. Its fangs gleamed in the dim moonlight, its muscles rippling with terrifying power.
The five warriors skidded to a halt outside the cave, spinning around in perfect unison. There was no longer any need for words. Each of them gripped their weapons tightly, their expressions hard with determination.
The battle had begun.