Rise of the Ninth Pavilion

Opposite the vast mountain range where the valley was situated stood a smaller formation—a cluster of jagged peaks that jutted out like scars upon the endless green sea of trees. Unlike the dense jungle below, these mountains were riddled with caverns that burrowed deep into their stone, carving out an almost hollow network beneath the peaks.

Inside one such cave, where the damp air clung thick to the stone, a massive throne of carved rock sat at the chamber's heart—not just a seat, but a pillar, supporting the very mountain itself. Upon it, in a posture of careless indolence, lounged a black panther. Its form was sleek, its fur almost unnaturally smooth, exuding a beauty that belied its true nature.

His golden eyes—deep and ancient like molten suns—half-lidded in thought, flickered with something more than mere intelligence. Power pulsed within them, unreadable yet undeniable. His presence did not radiate violence or savagery—there was no need.

The demonic beasts of the Hollow Peaks did not tremble before him. They did not dare approach at all.

Those who ventured too close to Ascanis, The Night Sovereign, did so only once.

A few bold ones had tried in the past—creatures arrogant in their strength, believing themselves worthy to stand near him. Their remains had long since faded into dust. Those who survived such arrogance knew better. The deeper one strayed into Ascanis' domain, the more suffocating the air became, as if the very stone of the mountains recognized its ruler and would not permit lesser beings to stand beside him.

Still, despite his dominance, he exhaled, bored. Then—he sensed it. A flicker of something in the distance, a disturbance that brushed against the edges of his awareness.

His head turned lazily toward the jungle, toward the place where the bears' territory had once been. His golden gaze sharpened, gleaming with faint irritation.

Then, in a voice clear and unmistakably human, he spoke.

"Var'Zun."

A shadow moved in the depths of the cave. A towering figure, draped in blackened feathers and scales, stepped forward. Massive wings folded neatly against its back, their edges tinged with faint, ethereal flames.

Ascanis' tail flicked, his tone indifferent but firm. "That little bear disappeared." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Beasts of its level do not disappear often."

His gaze darkened, his golden irises smoldering with something colder than mere annoyance.

"Go and see if humans have started their usual hunt."

Then, a low growl rumbled from his chest—a sound of irritation rather than fury. His claws lightly scraped against the stone armrest of his throne. "Be careful not to provoke them if they belong to a great sect."

His voice, once idle, grew sharp with distaste.

"But if they are nobodies—some no-name rabble—get rid of them. I can hardly stand their presence."

Var'Zun nodded once, his expression unreadable. Then—he moved.

A single beat of his massive wings sent him hurtling through the cave's entrance, and in an instant, he was gone—vanishing into the horizon in a blur so fast it seemed as though he had teleported.

As the last ember of his presence faded, a voice—not from the cave, but from outside—broke the silence.

It was deep, ancient, and carried the weight of unspoken authority.

"Be careful, Ascanis."

The great panther did not react immediately, only exhaling through his nose in faint amusement.

"Do not provoke those stronger than you," the voice continued. "In this brief time we are gone, you shall be our defense. Keep the mountain range safe from the humans of the east as we go to meet those in the west."

At that, Ascanis' lazy demeanor faded for a moment. His gaze sharpened, locking onto four massive shadows moving westward, their hulking forms vanishing beyond the cave's entrance.

He sighed, stretching his long limbs, before settling back into his throne with the ease of a predator unbothered by the concerns of lesser creatures.

"Godspeed to you."

Then, his gaze drifted past the cavern, past the mountains, past the endless green of the jungle—toward the distant territory of the slain bears. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the edges of his fanged mouth. Then, with a final sigh, he returned to his laziness. For now.

With the bear's body skinned and harvested, the squad—led by Bogi and Oliver—began their return journey.

To their astonishment, they moved far faster than before. Their steps carried an unnatural fluidity, their bodies shifting with precision that would have once been impossible. What had taken them three hours to traverse before now took only thirty minutes.

As they approached the pass, a sight caught them off guard. The soldiers at the valley's entrance stood at full readiness, weapons at hand, awaiting their return. Bogi smirked. Oliver sighed. They knew exactly what this meant. Everyone wanted answers.

Yet, as they neared, something shifted. Bogi's gaze flicked to Lazar, standing at the forefront. His stance was firm, but his expression was somber. Then—Bogi and Oliver felt it. Their newly heightened sensory ability, now vastly stronger than before, could not pierce through the pass. They could not feel the valley beyond.

A brief moment of silence stretched between them before they locked eyes. Bogi was the first to break the tension. "Now everything is clear. It seems the valley is blocking our sensory ability." Oliver's brows furrowed as realization settled over him. "A barrier? Could it be?"

As they reached the soldiers, they were greeted with sharp salutes—respectful, but filled with unspoken questions. Bogi wasted no time. His voice carried authority and finality. "Lazar. Gather everyone at the center. We have a lot to discuss."

Lazar nodded, giving no argument, and immediately turned back into the valley, the rest of the soldiers following suit. The moment Bogi and Oliver stepped into the valley, something shifted once more.

Their perception expanded again—but in a way they had not anticipated. They could now sense everything outside the valley, stretching for nearly a full kilometer beyond the pass. Bogi let out a deep, amused laugh. He understood now.

Turning to Oliver, he spoke with genuine intrigue. "If this is some kind of barrier… that would be incredible, don't you think?" Oliver was about to respond—when it happened. A presence.

Something immense. Something stronger, deadlier—beyond comprehension. It wasn't even within their sensory range, and yet its pressure alone crushed upon them—so heavy that their newfound abilities faltered beneath its sheer weight.

Oliver's breath hitched. Bogi's entire body tensed. The pressure wasn't just strong—it was overwhelming. And it was approaching. Without hesitation, Bogi's voice rang across the valley, cutting through the air like a blade.

"EVERYONE, PREPARE FOR BATTLE!"

There was no hesitation. The entire camp erupted into movement—soldiers rushing to arm themselves, formations shifting, orders being relayed at a frantic pace.

The newly awakened soldiers—those who had begun their own transformations—immediately rushed toward Bogi and Oliver, drawn by instinct. Yet, as they neared their captains, something felt off. Their gazes flickered toward Bogi and Oliver's expressions—both captains were not looking at the ground, nor toward the valley's entrance.

They were looking up. And then, they felt it too. The pressure. The aura. For the first time in this new world—they felt fear. Not just unease. Not just tension.

Primal, overwhelming, suffocating fear.

Their instincts screamed at them to run. Eyes wide, their heads slowly turned upward, following their captains' gaze. Yet—there was nothing. No form. No shadow. Just the open sky beyond the pass.

And still, their instincts told them—something was coming. Something far beyond the bears they had just fought. Something that could kill them all. And it was nearly here.

The soldiers stood firm behind their captains, their grips tight around their weapons, ready to face whatever was coming for them. Their breaths were controlled, but their bodies betrayed them—fingers trembled against triggers, hands twitched with nervous energy.

Far from the valley, at that same moment, Var'Zun arrived at the battlefield. His sharp, predatory eyes swept across the ruined clearing, taking in the torn ground, the scattered remains, and the skinned bear carcass. Then—his rage ignited.

"Despicable humans."

The words burned through his mind like fire, his black feathers bristling with barely contained fury. But his anger did not cloud his purpose. His eyes narrowed, scanning not just the physical trail left behind but something else—an energy trail.

These humans—fools that they were—had no control over the power. They left a presence in the air, a disturbance in the flow of energy that only a beast of his level could sense. Var'Zun bolted forward, following the unseen thread.

His massive wings folded close to his body, then snapped open with a powerful gust, launching him through the air like a black spear. He tore across the sky toward the towering mountains in the distance.

Minutes passed. The mountain range loomed closer, its peaks standing like silent sentinels guarding the valley beyond. Then—the sky darkened. A vast shadow stretched over the pass.

Var'Zun descended.

To the soldiers below, a massive eagle—black as the void, its wings blotting out the light—appeared from the heavens like a harbinger of death. Weapons snapped upward, barrels glinting under the twin suns. Yet, they did not fire. Their discipline and unwavering respect for their captains held them in place, keeping their instincts from betraying them.

Sweat dripped down the brows of even the most battle-hardened among them. Their muscles screamed to act, to fire, to react. Their fingers spasmed against the triggers—almost squeezing down by pure instinct.

But they held. They waited. Because Bogi and Oliver had not given the order. Their captains, who had led them through war and into this unknown world, stood unflinching beneath the crushing weight of Var'Zun's aura.

Their presence alone was enough to keep their soldiers from breaking. The massive eagle slowed, beating his wings only a few times before halting midair right before the pass.

Then—confusion. Var'Zun's eyes, gleaming like molten gold, scanned the area. His senses were sharp, his instincts refined beyond human comprehension.

And yet—the trail was gone. The energy of the humans, the unmistakable signature of their presence—it had simply… vanished. His head turned slowly, his massive gaze piercing through the air, across the valley's entrance, across the very ground they had walked on.

Nothing.

His claws twitched. His wings flared slightly. This shouldn't be possible. They were just here. His energy perception had led him directly to this spot—yet it was as if they had disappeared into thin air.

Bogi and Oliver felt the burn of his oppressive aura, the sheer weight of his rage pressing down on them like an unrelenting force. They knew—without a doubt—they could not defeat this being.

Their minds worked at full speed, calculating, strategizing. Bogi's hand shot up into the air, a sharp command without words.

No one moves. No one fires.

He prayed their luck would hold. That Var'Zun would not see the pass, would not see the invisible wall separating them from the outside world. A breathless silence fell. Above them, Var'Zun's frustration grew. His wings flapped once, powerful enough to kick up gusts of wind that sent dust and loose dirt flying. Still, he found nothing.

Impossible.

He seethed, clenching his talons. His golden eyes darkened, rage bubbling beneath the surface. He should have found something—a remnant of their presence, a sliver of energy, something. But no. It was as if they had never been here. His failure stung. The humans had escaped him.

His mood grew heavier—he knew what awaited him when he returned. Ascanis would not be pleased. With one final, furious glance at the pass, Var'Zun turned sharply. His wings spread wide. Then—with a single powerful beat, he was gone.

Vanishing back toward the Hollow Peaks, where the Night Sovereign awaited his report.