The Realm of Elemental Convergence thrummed with an energy that was both exhilarating and foreboding. Tang Yan stood at a juncture, battered yet unyielding, following his fierce encounters with the primal forces of Fire, Wind, Earth, Water, and Ice. Before him hovered two formidable entities—one radiated an intense golden brilliance, while the other cloaked itself in a suffocating veil of abyssal shadow.
In the distance, Gu Yuena floated, her expression inscrutable, a guardian of truths both profound and unsettling. "These forces are not mere elements," she declared, her voice resonating through the air like a celestial hymn. "They represent the essence of existence itself: Creation and annihilation. Purpose and void. Light… and Darkness."
With that, she turned away, her words fading like a whisper from the cosmos. "Confront them both. Or be consumed."
Darkness took the first step.
As he stepped forward, Tang Yan was enveloped by an abyss devoid of form or substance. Sound vanished, direction lost; even the rhythm of his heartbeat faded into silence. What he faced was not death, but something more profound—erasure. In that chasm, he found no adversaries—only the tumultuous echoes of his own thoughts, twisted and magnified, suffocating him with their weight.
Whispers slithered through the void, each one a dagger to his soul.
"You were always second."
"Why do you even exist, Tang Yan?"
"You're merely a shadow of Tang San."
"Even Gu Yuena's gaze strays from you."
"A tool. A placeholder. A spare."
He desperately called upon his martial soul, the Blue-Gold Warlord Trident, yet it disintegrated before it could form in his grasp. The voice of the System crackled in and out, static-laden, as if it too was succumbing to the darkness.
"St-t-till got th-that... emo-t-t-tragic energy... huh... buddy—"
"Guess this is where your dramatic backstory hits its apex," Tianmeng's voice slurred, a faint mockery of encouragement. "Better make it worth it…"
Tang Yan screamed, but the void devoured his voice, and his own name slipped into the recesses of his mind. He collapsed, a mere flicker of existence amidst the formless nothing, his essence unraveling. He was not accepted.
When he emerged, it was at the edge of the trial zone, trembling and drenched in cold sweat. His fingernails were bloodied from clawing at the ground; his voice had vanished, swallowed by the abyss. Yet, as if destiny had no regard for his turmoil, the trial of Light began anew.
Suddenly, a storm of golden radiance descended, oppressive and unyielding. Unlike the comforting warmth of fire or the gentle clarity of ice, this was a judgment that scorched every flaw, every hidden insecurity, until they erupted to the surface. His eyes burned, his body quaked; he felt exposed—not by the gaze of others, but by the raw, unyielding truth itself.
"You do not seek truth," the Light reverberated, its voice echoing through the air, echoing everywhere and nowhere. "You run from it."
"You walk in the shadow of your brother. You measure yourself by others' standards. There is no self."
Tang Yan struggled to lift his head, but the brilliance blinded him, pressing down like a weight. The System crackled back to life, hesitantly.
"Oof. Light's being kinda judgy for an element that causes eye damage."
"Look at the bright side," came Tianmeng's weak retort. "Wait—you can't. You're blind."
With every step he took toward the core, he felt the weight of the Light increase, oppressing him, holding him down. His flesh burned, his spirit frayed at the edges.
"...Why… can't I move…?" he whispered, but the Light offered no answer—only the relentless pressure of judgment.
He fell, succumbing to the unrelenting truth.
When he regained consciousness, Gu Yuena loomed over him. Her silver hair glimmered in the ambient glow of the ravaged trial field, her divine presence both a soothing balm and a sharp blade. She did not scold him. She did not comfort him. She simply beheld him—scorched, weary, trembling—and spoke with the weight of ages behind her words:
"This is only the beginning."
Her simple sentence was steeped in profound potential and burden, an echo of what was to come.
And just like that, she vanished.
Left in the silence that followed, Tang Yan felt the burn of Light mingled with the shadow of Darkness, still gnawing at his very being. He had not been accepted, nor had he been rejected. He was merely marked by the attempt.
And deep within him, something began to stir—not enlightenment, but a fierce challenge. The abyss had not shattered him. The light had not cleansed him. And yet, he remained.
He would rise once more. And next time, he would not kneel.