Kalen spent the next few days in a blur of restless energy. The news of the Black Fist and the Raven King spread like wildfire through the Sacred Hall, casting a shadow over the training grounds. Everywhere Kalen went, he heard whispers of the impending storm, of the terrifying power that lay in the east.

But amidst the fear, there was also excitement. For the first time in years, the disciples felt the pull of destiny, the chance to test their skills on a grand stage. Kalen could feel it too—the undeniable pull toward something greater. But alongside that, there was the gnawing uncertainty. Would he be chosen? And more importantly, was he ready?

On the fourth day after the Council’s announcement, Kalen found himself standing before Master Jorin once again. They were alone in the training hall, the air thick with unspoken tension. The only sound was the faint crackle of energy as Kalen worked through his forms, shifting between fire and ice as smoothly as he could manage.

"You’ve improved," Jorin observed, his arms crossed. "Your control over the elements is growing stronger by the day."

Kalen nodded, though he couldn’t shake the weight of doubt. "But is it enough? Enough for what's coming?"

Jorin was silent for a moment, watching him carefully. Then he sighed. "The Council will make its decision soon. But whether or not you are chosen, the real question is whether you believe you are ready."

Kalen paused, lowering his hands. The question struck deeper than he expected. Did he believe he was ready? The fight with Taren had proven that he could handle himself in a duel, but this was different. The Black Fist was an unknown force, and the Raven King… he was something else entirely.

"I don’t know," Kalen admitted. "I want to be ready, but there’s so much I don’t understand. About the elements, about myself. What if I’m not strong enough?"

Jorin’s gaze softened, and he stepped forward, placing a hand on Kalen’s shoulder. "Strength isn’t just about power, Kalen. It’s about knowing when to fight and when to step back. It’s about understanding your limits and pushing them when the time is right. You have the potential, but you must decide how to wield it."

Kalen looked down, his thoughts swirling. Jorin was right—he had to make his own choice. But as much as he wanted to join the fight, the fear of failure loomed large.

Just as he was about to respond, the doors to the training hall burst open. Mistress Lira strode in, her robes flowing behind her like a storm cloud. Her presence immediately commanded attention, and both Kalen and Jorin turned toward her.

"Master Jorin," she said curtly. "The Council has made its decision."

Jorin straightened, his expression unreadable. "And?"

Mistress Lira’s eyes flicked toward Kalen. "The delegation will depart tomorrow at dawn. The Council has selected a group of skilled cultivators to confront the Black Fist—and Kalen is among them."

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Kalen’s heart leaped into his throat. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. *He had been chosen?*

Jorin’s face was a mix of pride and concern. "Are you certain?"

"The Council’s decision is final," Lira replied, her gaze never leaving Kalen’s. "He has proven his ability in battle and his control over the elements. This will be his true test."

Kalen stood frozen, his mind racing. He had been selected. The chance he had been waiting for had arrived. But now that it was real, the weight of the responsibility hit him like a tidal wave.

Lira turned to Kalen, her voice firm but not unkind. "You have great potential, Kalen. But understand this: this mission is dangerous. The Black Fist is not to be underestimated. If you go, you must be prepared for whatever comes. There is no room for doubt."

Kalen swallowed hard. "I understand."

"Good," Lira said, her expression softening slightly. "Then prepare yourself. The journey will be long, and the challenges ahead will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine. But if you keep your balance—if you trust in your training—you will prevail."

With that, she turned and swept out of the hall, leaving Kalen and Jorin in silence.

For a long moment, Kalen didn’t move. The enormity of what had just happened was sinking in. He was going to face the Black Fist. He was going to confront the Raven King. The mission he had dreamed of was now his reality.

Jorin stepped beside him, his voice quiet. "It’s a heavy burden, isn’t it?"

Kalen nodded. "I thought I wanted this. But now…"

"Now you realize what it truly means," Jorin finished. "That’s the way of things. We all face moments where we must decide who we are and what we stand for. This is your moment, Kalen. And I believe you’ll find your way."

Kalen looked up at his master, the weight of his words settling on him. There was no turning back now. The path ahead was clear, and whether he was ready or not, it was time to walk it.

"I’ll do my best," Kalen said, his voice steadying.

Jorin smiled faintly. "That’s all you can do."

---

That night, Kalen couldn’t sleep. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about the journey ahead. Tomorrow, he would leave the Sacred Hall for the first time since his Awakening. He would face the unknown, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.

The Raven King’s shadow loomed large in his thoughts. Who was this man, and how had he gained such power? What drove him to twist the elements to his will, to disrupt the natural balance? And most of all, what did he want?

Kalen knew he had to be prepared for anything. He couldn’t afford to let his fear control him. He had to trust in his training, in the balance he had worked so hard to achieve.

As the first light of dawn crept through his window, Kalen rose from his bed. His body was tense, but his mind had found a measure of calm. This was it. The moment had arrived.

He dressed quickly, gathering his belongings and heading out into the courtyard. The other members of the delegation were already there, standing in a small circle as they waited for Mistress Lira and the other masters to arrive.

Among them, Kalen recognized some familiar faces—experienced cultivators who had been in the Sacred Hall for years. They all looked serious, their eyes betraying the same mix of anticipation and apprehension that Kalen felt.

Mistress Lira arrived moments later, accompanied by Master Jorin and two other Council members. She surveyed the group with a critical eye before addressing them.

"You are the best the Sacred Hall has to offer," she said, her voice carrying authority. "This mission will be dangerous, but I have faith in your abilities. Remember your training. Trust in your instincts. And above all, maintain the balance within yourselves. The elements will guide you if you let them."

Kalen nodded along with the others, feeling a surge of determination. He had come this far, and now there was no turning back.

"Let us go," Lira commanded. "The path ahead awaits."

With that, the group set off, the first rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the ground as they began their journey eastward, toward the rising storm and the unknown dangers that lay ahead.