As the days passed in the Ascendant Citadel, Kalen and Sorin continued their cultivation in isolation, refining the immortal techniques they had uncovered in the Hall of Records. The aura of the city thrummed with energy, constantly pushing them to new heights, and yet, there was a lingering tension. Kalen could sense the undercurrents of politics and power at play—everyone had their own agenda, and newcomers like them were often viewed as pawns in larger schemes.
Kalen's own cultivation had reached a point of critical refinement. The Voidflame Abyss, his signature power, had begun to stabilize within the framework of the Ascendant Realm, allowing him to integrate it more seamlessly with the immortal techniques he had learned. It was no longer a chaotic, uncontrollable force but a refined entity that could be wielded with devastating precision.
Sorin, on the other hand, was delving deeper into his newfound path—an aggressive and domineering style that allowed him to absorb a portion of his opponent’s power with each defeat. This combat-oriented cultivation method gave him a ruthless edge, and Kalen noticed that his friend was becoming more focused on battle than ever before.
One evening, while they meditated in their private quarters, there was a sharp knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Kalen called out, his eyes still closed as he focused on regulating his energy flow.
“It’s Valen,” came the reply from the other side. The voice of the Black Lotus Sect representative was unmistakable.
Sorin’s eyes snapped open, a frown forming on his face. “What does he want now?”
Kalen stood and opened the door. Valen stood there, his dark robes blending into the shadows of the corridor. His smile was polite, but there was a coldness behind it.
“I see you’ve been making progress,” Valen said, his gaze sweeping over the room as if appraising their cultivation level. “But you’ve been keeping a low profile. It’s time to change that.”
Kalen crossed his arms, meeting Valen’s gaze without flinching. “We’re not interested in joining any sects.”
Valen chuckled. “You misunderstand me, Kalen. I’m not here to recruit you. Not yet, at least. I’m here to invite you to something far more exclusive.” He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small, black jade token, engraved with intricate symbols that glowed faintly in the dim light.
“This is an invitation to the Obsidian Tournament,” Valen continued, handing the token to Kalen. “It’s a competition for the most promising cultivators in the Citadel. The rewards are… significant. Access to ancient techniques, rare resources, and, of course, prestige. Only those who prove themselves in this tournament are considered true contenders in the Ascendant Citadel.”
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Sorin’s interest was piqued. “And what’s the catch?”
Valen’s smile widened. “The catch is that the competition is dangerous. Fatal, even. But for someone like you, Sorin, who thrives on battle, it’s the perfect opportunity. And for you, Kalen, the techniques you could gain from this tournament would accelerate your path to the higher realms.”
Kalen examined the token, his mind racing. The tournament sounded like exactly the kind of opportunity they needed to prove their worth in this new world, but it also reeked of manipulation. The Black Lotus Sect was clearly positioning them for something, though he couldn’t yet see the full picture.
“We’ll think about it,” Kalen said, handing the token back.
Valen shook his head. “The token is yours, whether you accept or not. The tournament begins in two days. If you want to be more than just another pair of wandering cultivators, this is your chance.” He gave them one last, calculating smile before disappearing into the shadows once more.
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THE DECISION
After Valen left, Sorin paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back. “I don’t like this. He’s setting us up for something.”
Kalen leaned against the wall, turning the token over in his hand. “Of course he is. But this might be the only way for us to gain the resources we need. The Ascendant Citadel is a battleground. We can’t keep to ourselves forever.”
Sorin stopped pacing and looked at Kalen. “You’re thinking of accepting?”
“I’m thinking it’s worth the risk,” Kalen replied. “We’ve come this far, and if we want to stand a chance of reaching the higher realms, we’ll need the techniques and knowledge that only a place like this can provide.”
Sorin nodded slowly. “Alright. We fight, then.”
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PREPARATIONS FOR BATTLE
The next day, Kalen and Sorin began preparing for the tournament. They meditated, consolidated their energy, and sharpened their combat techniques. Kalen focused on mastering the balance between his Voidflame Abyss and the immortal techniques he had been studying, while Sorin refined his combat techniques, readying himself for a battle that would test him against the strongest the Citadel had to offer.
The token, now placed in a small alcove in their quarters, seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as if anticipating the bloodshed to come. Kalen could feel the weight of it, the sense that once they stepped into the arena, there would be no turning back.
That night, as they stood on the balcony overlooking the sprawling city of the Ascendant Citadel, Kalen felt a quiet resolve settle over him. The path to immortality was fraught with danger, but he had chosen this path, and there was no room for hesitation. The Obsidian Tournament was just the next step on a journey that would take him and Sorin to the heights of power—or destroy them in the process.
“The tournament is just the beginning,” Kalen said quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Sorin nodded beside him, his fists clenched. “We’ll crush anyone who stands in our way.”
As the two friends stood together, their bond forged through countless battles and trials, they knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.
The tournament was coming, and with it, the next test of their strength.