The Trial of the Spirit Stone

The next two days passed in a state of tense anticipation. The Outer Court of the Sky-Piercing City buzzed like a disturbed hornet's nest. Factions solidified, rivalries simmered, and every arriving genius postured for position, their reputations preceding them like an advance guard. Amrit's name was a constant whisper in these conversations. His silent defiance of Prince Valerius and his baffling registration result had made him an object of intense speculation. Theories ranged from him being the secret disciple of a reclusive god to a charlatan with a one-time-use divine artifact.

Amrit ignored the whispers. He used the time to acclimate, his daily routine a simple, focused loop. In the mornings, he would practice his fused combat style in his small, private garden, the Ghost-Flash Steps and One Sword principles blending into a silent, deadly dance. In the afternoons, he would sit in meditation, not absorbing the ambient Prana, but simply observing. He mapped the flow of energy through the city, familiarizing himself with its spiritual geography, his Divine Ocean acting as a passive, all-seeing eye.

Rohan visited him frequently, a self-appointed guide and a welcome source of information. He explained that the Entrance Trial was always a multi-stage affair, designed to test every aspect of a cultivator: raw talent, combat prowess, and mental fortitude.

"The first stage is always a re-test of the registration stone, but on a much grander scale," Rohan explained, nervously munching on a sweet roll he'd brought. "They do it to weed out the ones who used trickery or temporary power-ups to get in. They say the Great Spirit Stone in the Trial Plaza is a thousand years old and can see into your very soul. There's no cheating it."

Amrit simply nodded, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Rohan's anxious energy. He felt no anxiety. The trial was not a test for him; it was a stage.

On the morning of the third day, a deep, resonant chime echoed through the entire city, a sound that seemed to vibrate in one's very bones. A voice, ancient and powerful, resonated in the mind of every new student.

"The Entrance Trial begins. All new disciples, gather at the Central Trial Plaza."

It was the voice of an Academy Elder, a being of immense power.

The Outer Court erupted into motion. A thousand streams of ambitious youths flowed from their residences towards the heart of the city. Amrit joined the river of people, his presence still an island of tranquility in a sea of nervous excitement.

The Central Trial Plaza was a vast, circular amphitheater, open to the sky, with tiered seating carved into the surrounding rock. In the center of the plaza stood a single, colossal object: the Great Spirit Stone.

It was a perfect, twenty-foot-tall monolith of flawless, crystalline obsidian. Unlike the small registration stone, this one was not inert. It pulsed with a deep, ancient power, its surface swirling with captured starlight. Runes of immense complexity and power were etched around its base, connecting it to the spiritual heart of the Academy itself.

Thousands of students filled the tiered seats, their eyes fixed on the monolith. On a high platform sat the arbiters of the trial: a council of ten Academy Elders, their faces stern and impassive, their auras as deep and vast as the mountains themselves.

One of the Elders, a woman with hair as white as snow and eyes that held the wisdom of centuries, stood up. Her voice, though spoken softly, carried to every corner of the plaza.

"I am Elder Shanti. I will be presiding over the first stage of your trial," she announced. "The path to true power is built on a foundation of truth. Any power gained through deceit is a foundation of sand, destined to crumble. This trial will test the truth of your potential."

Her gaze swept over the crowd of nervous faces. "You will come forward, one by one, when your name is called. You will place your hand upon the Great Spirit Stone. The stone will measure the depth and quality of your innate talent and spiritual foundation. Your result will be projected for all to see. This score will form twenty percent of your final trial ranking."

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "Deceivers will be exposed. The weak will be revealed. Only the true geniuses will shine. Let the Trial of the Spirit Stone begin."

A massive runic screen materialized in the air above the plaza, displaying the list of names. The trials began with the lower-ranked students, those with unremarkable registration scores.

One by one, they stepped forward, their faces pale with anxiety. They placed their hands on the cold obsidian. The stone would glow—a murky green, a faint blue, a dull yellow. The screen would display their score: 5.8, 6.2, 5.5. For most, their scores were consistent with their registration, earning them polite, if unimpressed, applause.

A few were exposed as frauds. A young man who had registered with a 7.5, likely using a temporary power-boosting pill, now scored a 4.9. The Great Spirit Stone glowed a furious, judgmental red, and a wave of shaming energy washed over him. He stumbled back, his face ashen, as the crowd laughed and jeered. Elder Shanti simply waved a hand, and two guards escorted the disgraced youth from the plaza. His journey at the Academy was over before it had even begun.

The process was ruthless and efficient. As the names climbed higher, the displays became more impressive. Kael Volkov, the brutish warrior who had confronted Amrit, stepped forward. He slammed his hand onto the stone with a defiant roar. The stone erupted in a blazing, blood-red light, a testament to his powerful, aggressive bloodline.

Kael (House Volkov) - Bloodstone Red - Score: 9.0

A significant improvement. The crowd roared its approval. Kael shot a smug, challenging glare towards the section where he knew Amrit was sitting.

Princess Fenghua produced a pillar of shimmering, vermilion light that seemed to manifest the phantom image of a soaring phoenix. Her score was a stunning 9.4.

Zian of the Whispering Scroll touched the stone gently. It did not blaze with light, but instead, the starlight swirling within its depths arranged itself into a complex, beautiful celestial map, a direct reflection of his unique spiritual art. His score was a 9.2, a testament to profound, if not explosive, talent.

Finally, it was Prince Valerius's turn. The heir to the Draconian Empire strode forward with the easy confidence of a king. He placed his hand on the stone. The monolith did not just glow; it seemed to sing. A blindingly brilliant column of royal purple light shot into the sky, and within it, the faint, spectral roar of a dragon could be heard.

Prince Valerius (Draconian Empire) - Draconic Amethyst - Score: 9.9

The highest score of the day. A near-perfect measure of talent. The entire amphitheater erupted in a thunderous ovation. Valerius accepted the applause with a gracious, yet arrogant, nod. He was the undisputed number one.

Elder Shanti's impassive face showed a flicker of approval. A 9.9 was a score that appeared only once every few decades.

"And finally," she announced, her voice cutting through the applause, "Amrit of Kshirapura."

A sudden, intense silence fell over the plaza. Every eye, from the lowest-ranked student to the Elders on the high platform, fixed on the solitary figure rising from his seat. This was the moment of truth for the great enigma. Was he a hidden dragon or a laughable fraud?

Amrit walked down the steps and into the center of the arena, his steps calm and even. The weight of thousands of expectant, judgmental gazes did not affect him in the slightest. He felt Rohan's nervous hope, Kael's malicious glee, Zian's scholarly curiosity, and Valerius's intense, analytical stare.

He reached the colossal monolith. He looked up at its towering, obsidian form, at the swirling cosmos within. He felt its ancient, immense power, a power that could see through flesh and bone to the soul within.

He raised his hand.

He did not slam it like Kael, nor place it gently like Zian. He simply touched it, a quiet and direct connection.

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. The stone remained dark. A few titters of laughter broke out in the crowd. Kael's face split into a triumphant sneer.

Elder Shanti frowned. Was it truly a fluke after all?

Then, the Great Spirit Stone shuddered.

A deep, groaning sound emanated from its core, as if an ancient being had been awakened from a deep slumber. The swirling starlight within it froze.

The stone did not glow. It did not produce a color.

It went out.

The ambient light, the swirling energy, the very presence of the monolith—it all vanished. The twenty-foot-tall obsidian stone became a simple, dull, black rock. It was as if its very soul had been… drained.

The runic screen above the plaza flickered violently. The names and numbers vanished, replaced by a string of corrupted, nonsensical symbols, before it too went dark with a fizzle and a puff of smoke.

The ten Elders on the high platform shot to their feet in unison, their faces masks of utter, horrified disbelief.

"What is happening?" one Elder cried out.

"The link to the spiritual veins—it's been severed!" another shouted.

"He didn't just touch the stone," Elder Shanti whispered, her voice trembling as she stared at Amrit with wide, terrified eyes. "He… he consumed it. His potential is so vast, so boundless, that the Great Spirit Stone tried to measure an ocean and was drained dry in the process. It's broken."

Amrit removed his hand from the now-inert monolith. He had not intended for this to happen. He had simply allowed the stone to measure him, but his foundation—the Divine Ocean, the Dantian Sun, the Conceptual Sword—was not something that could be measured by mortal means. His potential was not a quantity; it was a state of being. The ancient artifact had tried to assign a number to infinity, and the attempt had shattered its own logic.

He turned to face the silent, stunned amphitheater. He looked at the smoking, broken runic screen. He looked at the ten stunned Elders. He looked at the thousands of students whose minds had just been shattered.

He had come here to take a test.

Instead, he had broken the test itself. The Trial of the Spirit Stone was over. And the legend of Amrit of Kshirapura had just truly begun.