Spirit’s Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water

The seven competitors had gathered at the center of the arena, standing in a loose formation as Elder Baruun materialized before them. His imposing figure was clad in his sleeveless sect elder robes, his arms crossed, scars danced and told a story across his weathered skin. His Spirit Mystic-level pressure weighed down on the competitors for a brief moment before withdrawing, a silent reminder that none of them were above the rules.

Though, this casual act caused Elder Baruun to suddenly feel his battle senses tingling and skin feel prickly like he was staring at something more dangerous than even the most vicious of Abyssal Demons. His eyes darted to the nonchalant expression the Sect Master's Personal Disciple had maintained as he regarded the wave of spiritual pressure that had washed over him without care. Their eyes met and Elder Baruun felt a slight chill go down his spine as he peered into the swirling storms that were in Lassim's eyes.

This exchange happened so briefly that no one else caught it, but Baruun was one of the strongest and battle-hardened Elders of the sect. He began, "The Spirit Transcendence Tournament will be held in three rounds," Baruun's voice thundered across the coliseum, ensuring every disciple present could hear. "There will be three first-round battles. With seven of you present, one of you will receive a bye."

A murmur spread through the crowd. A free pass to the next round was a significant advantage.

"To keep things fair," Baruun continued, "we will determine the matchups by drawing lots."

A sect attendant stepped forward, carrying a small ceremonial box infused with lightning formations. Baruun gestured to the competitors. "Step forward one by one."

Lassim watched as the first competitor—a tall, lean fighter that already was wielding his elemental weapon, a bladed chain staff—stepped forward and reached into the box, withdrawing a glowing talisman inscribed with a number.

The others followed suit, each drawing their number in turn.

Finally, Lassim approached. He reached inside, feeling the faint pulse of Lightning array formations skitter across his skin before he withdrew his lot. He glanced at the number and returned to the group.

Elder Baruun took all the drawn numbers, arranging the matchups in front of the crowd. Then, with a gesture, the projection screen above the coliseum flickered to life.

Round One Matchups:

Lassim Rohese Vanthar vs. Raizan

Xenthos vs. Ivara Lenix

Kaelrin Voskar vs. Morhan

(Bye) Veyra Saorin advances to the next round.

The competitors exchanged glances, and just Lassim cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders.

Finally, it was time.

He looked up at the stands, where Volten remained seated, arms still crossed.

Lassim smirked, flashing a knowing glance, happy that he was first to go. Then he stepped towards the stage. Lassim and Raizan reached the reinforced coliseum stage, both landing without hesitation at the same time across from each other.

As their feet touched the tiled floor, a gust of charged wind surged outward as the barrier flared back to life, this time securing the battlefield with a massively more dense and strong barrier that caused the pressure within the barrier to change and make the competitor's ear's pop.

Floating above, Elder Sarrin Vel as the maintainer of the most powerful defensive arrays within the sect, raised a single hand. A series of complex golden inscriptions expanded in layered rings before fusing into the arena's walls. The enhancement was instant, reinforcing the existing formations as a contingency plan to keep the crowd safe from any stray attacks. Battles at this level were capable of leveling kingdoms and even the weakest of attacks could slaughter countless Spirit Growth and Spirit Transformation stage disciples amongst the crowd.

Without a word, the Grand Defensive Architect turned and left to take up a position that afforded her access to quickly reinforce the barrier once more if needed. The arena's barrier shimmered, sealing off the battlefield as her enhancements settled.

Lightning and thunder flashed and roared overhead from the perpetual storm, almost in jubilation as if sensing the impending destruction and lightning prowess about to unfold.

Raizan, a man that looked like he could be old enough to be Lassim's father and appeared to be in the absolute prime of his life with his slicked back and neat purple hair, circulated his mana first, his five-layered white halo materialized into existence pulsing above him. He summoned and flashily twirled his twin Lightning javelins in both hands like they were large batons, a cocky smirk creeping across his face as he stared Lassim down.

"So, you're the prodigy everyone talks about," he mused, his voice tinged with amusement. "How did you manage to reach Spirit Transcendence? Or is this just a similar scenario to when you started and you think you can skip stages like you did with that outer sect brat? How does it feel, standing on the stage with a real Spirit Transcendence cultivator? Oh, but you're the Sect Master's disciple! Forgive me, I should be honored."

Lassim didn't respond verbally. He simply rolled his wrists, letting the faintest traces of red-streaked lightning crackle along his fingers before dispersing into the air before letting something else speak for him.

Then—Lassim exhaled.

The air trembled.

A low, rumbling pressure rolled through the coliseum, distorting space around him before proof of his Spirit Transcendence stage cultivation emerged in all its glory.

It was not a halo.

The moment it appeared, the murmuring of the audience turned into outright gasps.

Floating above him, wreathed in storm-laced spatial distortions, was his crown.

A coiled Leviathan, its crimson eyes burning with unbridled ferocity, its form locked in a cycle of endless motion, churning storms and crashing waves entwining around its serpentine body. The band of power encircling the crown was not singular, like the others—it had two distinct layers, proof of his Level 2 status.

But even that wasn't what caused shock to ripple through the sect.

The weight of it. The sheer, suffocating presence it exuded. The holiness, otherworldliness, and the pressure of perfection that came off of it.

This was not a normal manifestation of Spirit Transcendence.

It was monstrous.

Raizan clicked his tongue,, "Alright then—let's see if you live up to the hype."

~~

From the highest observation platform, Sect Master Volten felt his jaw tighten, his gaze narrowing as he focused on Lassim's aura. It was subtle—barely perceptible—but his spiritual pressure was not at all what it should be for a Level 2 Spirit Transcendence cultivator.

The weight of his presence was off.

Volten studied his disciple more closely, his orange lightning-etched eyes scrutinizing the faint distortions in the air around Lassim's form.

The moment he focused, his mind processed what had felt wrong.

"He's... already nearly at Level 3 as well?"

Volten's fingers tensed against his armrest. That shouldn't be possible. No—it wasn't possible.

Even among the greatest prodigies of the sect's history, Spirit Transcendence warriors took thousands of years to climb each level. Yet Lassim, barely or almost seventeen, had already begun pushing towards Spirit Mystic in less than a year from the Spirit Ascension stage.

"This is ridiculous…"

But as absurd as it was, Volten couldn't deny the truth before him. Lassim's cultivation speed had long since defied reason. The only remaining question was—

Did his opponent realize the gap between them yet that wasn't fully present in just the simplified two-layered crown that was incredibly misleading?

~~

Raizan stared at the crown, his breath hitching for the first time since the match was announced.

He had expected confidence. Strength. Possibly blustering or boasting even to come from someone that was the Sect Master's disciple.

But this?

"Why… does this feel like I'm staring at a Spirit Mystic?"

It was wrong.

A Spirit Transcendence Level 2 should not feel this powerful. But before he could process it further

Lassim smirked, "You're looking a little pale, Raizan." His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it.

Raizan scoffed, forcing himself to shake off the unease. "Tch. You think a fancy crown is going to make me hesitate?"

He twirled his lightning javelins, electricity sparking from their edges. "I don't care what tricks you've got—I'm still going to run you into the ground."

Lassim's smirk widened slightly, "Then hurry up and try."

Elder Baruun raised his hand, "Match: Lassim Rohese Vanthar vs. Raizan Kethis!"

A moment's pause.

Then—

"Begin!"

The moment Elder Baruun's voice rang out, Raizan moved.

Lightning surged across his form as he vanished from the spot, his speed amplified by the twin javelins in his grip. His cultivation—Spirit Transcendence, Level 5—was nothing to scoff at, and his movements at this level, with a custom movement technique so ingrained in his muscle memory that any desire to use it was instantaneous.

The air warped from the sheer burst of Lightning empowered acceleration, the stage crackling with electricity that arced from his body as he shot forward, a streak of violet lightning mana.

His intent and strategy was clear. Overwhelm Lassim before he could retaliate.

[Storm Shatter]—his trusted and commonly used dual-thrust technique that combined both his javelins into a singular, piercing strike, designed to break through defensive Lightning techniques and shatter an opponent's counterattacks before they could even be formed.

A decisive first move.

A solid, effective strategy.

It was also pointless.

Lassim's Response—[Storm's Dance]

The instant Raizan's attack closed in, Lassim barely shifted his stance—and the distance between them vanished.

Or rather, condensed.

The storms around his feet twisted, and in that split second—he was gone. Not with speed. Not with lightning acceleration. With space.

His [Storm's Dance] wasn't like Raizan's approach, which relied on raw speed and Lightning-enhanced footwork. Lassim's movement technique folded space—his storm-wreathed and disguised steps appearing in one location and reemerging elsewhere.

To those watching, it looked like an afterimage.

To Raizan, it felt like a nightmare.

The javelins struck empty air.

Raizan's eyes widened—but he had no time to adjust.

Lassim was already behind him.