Dawnforge Doesn’t Hold Hands

The doors of Dawnforge Academy creaked open like the yawning of a beast ready to devour its prey.

Lee Haeun stepped inside.

No escorts. No instructions. No waiting period. Just a vast hallway lined with statues that watched him like silent judges. Each statue bore a different expression—rage, serenity, grief, madness—and each pulsed with faint energy as if alive. Carved into the marble beneath each one was a single name and a title:

Arkan, the 14th Ascendant of Storm.Yuehla, Goddess of Echoed Time.Sorin, the First Flame of Dawnforge.

He kept walking.

The air inside wasn't cold, but it wasn't welcoming either. It was indifferent. Like this place existed whether you lived or died. A domain forged by beings who ascended not because they were kind—but because they were undeniable.

At the end of the hallway was a spiraling staircase that defied logic. It stretched both upward and downward into infinity, floating in a pillar of soft starlight. And above it floated a giant sphere of compressed aura—spinning, roaring softly like a caged beast.

As he stepped forward, a voice boomed directly into his mind:

"Initiate Haeun. Your presence is acknowledged. You have been placed into Trial Year Zero—the Crucible. Survive, and the realm opens. Fail… and you become part of the stone."

He didn't flinch.

The Crucible Dorms – Trial Year Zero

He materialized again—Dawnforge didn't waste time on foot travel.

Now he stood in a circular dormitory carved into the side of a floating mountain. A giant dome of glass arced overhead, showing constellations swirling unnaturally fast—time was moving different here.

Other figures occupied the space—students. Some younger, some ancient. All cultivators.

And every single one of them turned to look at Haeun the moment he appeared.

Tension hit like thunder.

A tall youth with bone-white hair smirked from the railing above. His robes were stitched with gold, but the aura leaking from his skin was savage.

"Another bottom-feeder made it through the Skypierce Gate?" he said, voice smooth but biting. "Let me guess—Mortal Realm trash?"

No response from Haeun.

"What's your name?" he asked, descending the stairs.

Still no response.

"I asked you—"

"Lee Haeun."

The white-haired youth paused. A flicker of recognition. But only a flicker.

"Never heard of you."

"You will."

Then Haeun walked past him, eyes straight, posture steady.

The moment he did, the youth's fingers twitched. A flare of energy surged from his hand—a whip of condensed aura, fast as lightning.

Crack!

Haeun moved like a blur, body low, countering with a rising palm strike. The whip disintegrated before it could touch him. His spiritual energy spun in perfect harmony with the Middle Realm's pressure—a blend of mortal technique and raw instinct.

Gasps echoed from the onlookers. Not because of the dodge—because he moved without drawing from an external source.

He was syncing with the realm's ambient energy. Something even many elites couldn't do on their first day.

The white-haired youth's expression twisted.

"You little—!"

"That's enough, San Juro."

The voice that cut through the air was calm, composed, and final.

A new figure appeared at the entrance of the dorm. He wore the official silver and indigo of a Dawnforge Instructor, and his presence made even the atmosphere hold its breath.

"He passed the Gate. He is one of you, now. If you wish to test him…""…do it in the arena."

The instructor looked at Haeun directly, eyes calculating.

"And you—Lee Haeun. Tomorrow morning. First trial begins. Be ready."

Later That Night

Haeun stood alone on the dorm's meditation balcony, high above the clouds. Below, the ley lines shimmered like rivers of light. Above, the stars seemed to move faster the deeper he stared.

He wasn't afraid. But he was on edge.

This realm played by different rules. The stakes weren't just power. Here, existence itself was challenged. Failure didn't mean defeat—it meant erasure.

"So this is what you wanted, right?" he murmured to himself."To reach beyond the sky. To see what comes after."

His body still bore scars from the Demon God's fight. But his soul—his spirit—was clearer than ever.

Tomorrow, he'd walk into the Crucible.

And gods or not, he'd make sure they remembered his name.