The Depth That Breaks the Flesh

The room was still, the air heavy with lingering awe. The words of the Master still hung in their minds like a sword suspended over their future. But as the diagram of the Tiers faded and silence swallowed the dojo, the Master turned. His footsteps echoed against the wooden floor, and without glancing back, he muttered:

"The rest is unnecessary. Tiers Twenty-Five to Thirty are not for you to know yet. If you must ask about gods, first learn to bleed like mortals."

With that, he walked toward the exit, his back as straight and unshakable as a sword embedded into the earth. The doors opened without a sound. Light flooded in.

They followed.

No one dared speak.

The journey up the mountain was gruelling. The air thinned. The temperature dropped. Mist wrapped around their legs like coils of a slumbering serpent. Even the seasoned students found their steps heavier with each pace. Rai looked over at Kaen, who carried a small satchel slung across his chest and walked silently beside him. Jin Shōra remained near the rear, his eyes scanning the cliffs above like he expected the mountain to strike.

After hours of silent marching, they arrived at the mouth of a dark cave. Its arching stone entrance looked like the yawning maw of some ancient titan.

The Master turned. His voice was cool, void of emotion, a blade dipped in ice.

"Enter."

They did.

And the instant the last foot crossed the boundary, it began.

A weight fell on them—not physical, not mana-based. But spiritual. A crushing, bone-deep gravity that grew denser with each breath. The torches lining the stone walls flickered. The floor rumbled beneath their feet. Their mana pools reacted like alarmed animals.

Rai dropped to one knee.

Kaen gasped beside him.

The older students were no better. Cracks formed in the stone where they tried to steady themselves. Their breathing became labored.

The Master, standing at the front of the cave like a judge before the condemned, spoke:

"This cave is aligned to the Spine of Ascension. The deeper you go, the stronger the suppression. It will pull you one Tier beyond your limit."

Jin Shōra chuckled dryly. "Which, for most of you, means you're already dying just standing here."

"Correct," the Master said, his tone flat.

The students stared.

One boy with spiked hair and bright orange gloves trembled. "W-Why would you train us here? We could die!"

The Master did not blink. "Death is always an option. Growth never is."

With a wave of his hand, the torches dimmed further. The shadows in the cave stretched. And then he added, "For the next ten days, you will live here. Train here. Eat here. Bleed here. If you survive, you will become worthy of the first veil. If you fail, you will not leave."

Jin Shōra coughed. "So encouraging."

Rai raised his head, breath ragged. "How do we train like this? I can't even move."

"Exactly," the Master replied. "You train until you can."

Then he turned and vanished into the dark.

The first day was hell.

Each movement was like dragging lead. Standing became a challenge. The simplest stretches left even the strongest students shaking. Mana refused to circulate properly. The cave actively resisted their efforts, pushing against them like a tide of disdain.

Rai could barely roll his shoulders. Every breath was fire in his lungs.

Kaen groaned. "This isn't training. This is murder."

Jin Shōra grinned from the corner. "Murder would be kinder."

By the end of the second day, students began to collapse. The arrogant ones vomited blood. One boy tried to sneak to the surface—his body was found just outside the threshold, unconscious, lips blue.

On the third day, the Master returned. He brought no food, no comfort. Only a bundle of wooden rods.

"We fight today," he said.

The students groaned.

"You will learn how to fight with broken rhythm. With lungs that fail. With energy that deserts you. That is the true battlefield."

He tossed a rod to each student. When they hesitated, he scoffed.

"If your limbs can't lift wood, how will they lift legacy?"

Kaen lifted his staff with both hands, teeth clenched. Rai barely managed to grip his. His muscles screamed.

They paired off.

Then it began.

The duels were chaotic. Students collapsed mid-swing. Cries filled the cave. The Master moved among them like a ghost, correcting stances, mocking mistakes. A boy who struck too hard was forced to spar blindfolded. Another who cried out was made to sit in silence, in stillness, for hours, with only the weight pressing down on his bones as company.

But slowly, change happened.

On the fifth day, Rai struck true—a clean blow across Kaen's chest. It wasn't elegant. But it was sharp. Intentional. Kaen smiled.

By the sixth, their movements became smoother. Not faster. But more aligned. Their breath matched. Their will synchronized.

Jin Shōra clapped from the side. "Flowing like water, huh? Took you long enough."

Rai grinned. "Still not good enough."

Kaen nodded. "Not yet."

The Master watched them from the cave wall, his arms folded. His face remained unreadable. But for the first time, his voice was quieter.

"Now it begins."

That night, the students collapsed into sleep on cold stone, too tired to even speak. Rai, still trembling, looked up at the ceiling of the cave. The stone shimmered faintly, like stars buried in the mountain.

"I'm going to climb it," he whispered. "The whole Spine."

Kaen didn't respond. He was already asleep beside him, face peaceful.

But the Master, who sat deeper in the shadows, whispered back.

"Then learn to survive its teeth."