The egg rested heavy in my hands, its surface cold and smooth, almost alive with a faint, pulsing vitality. A fierce wave of determination surged through my chest, hot and sharp, as if some inner voice roared: "If this is a test, I'll conquer it." Cost be damned—I was ready. The air around us hung thick and electric, trapping the silence that stretched between me and Nael. He stepped closer, his eyes cutting through me, predatory yet tempered by a stillness, a quiet control that unraveled my defenses.
— "Have you chosen your next move?" — Nael's voice tore through the stillness, deep and edged with a casual indifference, as if his words were a mere breath lost to the wind. But I knew better. He never wasted a syllable.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. A knot twisted in my chest, inexplicable and unyielding. He wasn't here to cradle me with easy options, nor had I come to grovel for answers. Something had been burning inside me for too long—a relentless hunger to push past my limits, to break myself open and rise as something greater. Stronger. Reborn.
— "I'm calling in the favor." — My voice held firm, though a tremor of nerves slipped out, quivering at the edges. — "You said today you would reform my talent."
Nael's gaze locked onto mine. It was a wall—cold, calculating, as if he were measuring my soul on some unseen scale. My stomach lurched. He wasn't one for hollow promises or gentle paths. Whatever lay ahead, I'd have to seize it with my own hands.
— "If you say so." — His tone was calm, serene even, but something in it prickled my skin. He'd grant my request… but only on his terms.
There was no time to dwell. He moved—slowly, almost lazily—yet the air seemed to bend beneath his weight. A chill raced up my spine. My instincts screamed to retreat, my body tensing, but before I could step back, he caught me. His hand clamped around my wrist, warm and unyielding, a living shackle.
— "No." — Soft, yet razor-sharp. I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.
His touch pressed against my back, a steady force anchoring me in place. Then the world flipped. The air twisted, the ground dissolved, and in an instant, we were elsewhere. A tomb. Black stone, frigid to the touch, etched with runes that glowed like ravenous eyes. The walls whispered tales—of ice beasts with flaming fangs, fallen dragons, shadows that pulsed faintly in the dim light.
The air weighed on me, damp and dense, thick with a presence that clung to my skin. Every breath felt labored, as if the place itself hungered to swallow me whole. The silence was alive, taut, daring me to break it.
Nael didn't rush. He guided me through the ruins, his eyes scanning every corner, unraveling secrets I couldn't even dream of. I struggled to keep pace, the weight of the place pressing down on me. It wasn't just stone and dust—it was a battlefield locked in time, where the past lurked, starved and waiting.
He said nothing. He didn't need to. The test was woven into the air, into the heavy silence, into the way he left me to wrestle my own fears alone.
— "Here." — His voice sliced through the emptiness, steady but laced with a note that halted me. — "Prepare yourself."
I glanced around. The runes on the walls shimmered, murmuring legends I couldn't grasp. The ground quivered faintly—or maybe it was me. The place thrummed with life, poised in expectation.
— "What is this?" — My voice emerged soft, devoured by the echo.
He turned to face me. His dark eyes glinted with something ancient, a wisdom that pierced straight through.
— "A place where few have entered… and none have left." — His reply was curt, almost detached, but the words crashed onto my shoulders like lead.
— "A place where power sleeps… and waits." — The words lingered, slow and resonant, as if drawn from a distant age.
He walked on, his strides sure, as if he owned the very fabric of time. I followed, my heart lodged in my throat, each beat a stifled cry.
— "And what do you want me to do here?" — I asked, fear and curiosity tangling in my voice.
Nael stopped, glancing back over his shoulder. His expression didn't shift, but his stare was raw, a challenge laid bare.
— "You already know." — Cold. Blunt. No room for doubt.
I frowned, a shiver sliding down my frame. Reform my talent… It was what I'd chased, what I'd fought for. But here, in this place, it turned real. Heavy. Silence fell again, dense and almost holy. My heart thundered, its echo bouncing off the stones. This wasn't just a test—it was a forge. I'd leave changed, or I wouldn't leave at all.
We halted. The tomb opened into a shadowed clearing, darkness swallowing the last scraps of light. Ahead, three statues stared back at me. Hewn from pure stone, their edges defied the wear of centuries. Each carried its own vitality, a power that prickled against my skin.
To the left, a six-armed beast, its stone eyes trailing me as if it knew me. In the center, a youth with a flawless face, his gaze cutting deep. To the right, a woman—fierce, beautiful, poised as if she'd been waiting for me since time began.
— "Every woman becomes more beautiful through cultivation." — My voice rasped, clinging to a shred of pride. — "But I was born beautiful. When I reform my talent, I'll be… unbearable."
The words slipped out lightly, but the smile I flashed was a flimsy shield. They'll look at me again. Like always. Yet that stone woman… she wasn't like the rest. Her beauty was too perfect, too haunting.
Nael's silence pressed against me from my side. He didn't need words—his gaze sliced through me, cold and empty, as if he could pluck my thoughts from my skull without trying. His presence smothered me, yet it held me steady, a taut rope teetering on the edge of snapping. He knew what stirred in me. He always had.
We left the chamber, and the ground beneath my feet shifted. The air grew thick, damp with the scent of ancient stone and buried secrets. Before us loomed a cliff—a jagged wound in the earth, so vast that darkness devoured its depths. Above, twisted rocks pierced the sky, the fangs of a broken world. I trembled, not from cold, but from something immense. The Sacred Cliff of the Holy Land of Dao wasn't just a place. It was a warning.
My mother's voice echoed in my mind: — "Nothing comes free, daughter. Everything demands its price." — Standing there, teetering on the abyss, I knew the cost would be steep. My eyes caught the purple fruit before my mind could catch up. It hovered beside a gnarled tree, older than any tale I'd heard. The Congenital Talent Fruit. Its glow pulsed, alive, beckoning. It was more than a promise—a shard of chaos bound in form, a key to something I barely understood.
The world craves this as much as I do, I thought. I felt it in the air, the way it shivered around the fruit. Hunger—not just mine, but the world's—ravenous, weary of waiting, aching to tear itself apart and become something new. And I knew why. Less than ten years. A decade until the celestial tribulation swept in and consumed everything. If we faltered, no one would survive. No one.
I choked down my fear, but it stuck in my throat. I looked at Nael. He stood motionless, meeting my gaze with eyes dark as endless wells. Something lurked there, veiled, urging me to scream and run all at once.
— "What do we do now?" — My voice came out faint, nearly lost to the wind.
He tilted his head, just a fraction. — "We have time. But not much." — His words hit like stones, hard and cold. He knew. Of course he did. And I knew I had no choice.
Suddenly, he raised a hand. The ground cracked with a dry snap, splitting into a deep, perfect crater, as if the earth bent to his will without question. From the ring on his finger, a purple light spilled out—fragments of chaos essence swirling in the air before pooling into the hollow. It was beautiful in a terrifying way. He shaped it like clay, his movements deliberate, reverent. Nael didn't seek destruction. He sought to guide, even if it stung.
— "Undress and sit." — His voice cut the silence, firm, brooking no hesitation.
I didn't falter. I couldn't be that girl anymore—the one who blushed, who shrank with shame, who asked why. I shed my clothes slowly, the icy air biting my skin, and stepped into the crater. The chaos essence swallowed me, hot and alive, stirring every part of me. It was intense. It hurt. But it felt right.
Nael took a golden ticket and pressed it to my forehead. It melted into white light, runes flaring briefly before fading. A heat rushed through my chest, swift and nearly suffocating. I'm changing, I thought, my heart pounding harder.
He turned to the fruit. When he plucked it, it wilted slightly, the stem darkening as if in pain. Nael didn't pause. He pressed another golden ticket against it, and a soft glow wrapped it, its scent shifting—from wild sweetness to something pure, almost sacred. He handed it to me without a word.
I held the fruit, its lightness deceptive in my palm. I hesitated for a heartbeat, then bit. The taste erupted—sweet, bitter, thick, all at once. It was like swallowing a piece of sky and soil fused together. My vision blurred. My body blazed, not with pain, but with power. I was becoming something else—something vast.
Nael watched, silent, his gaze steady. No rush, no mercy. He knew what this meant. And I knew the world wouldn't wait any longer.
For a moment, everything faded. Not a blackout, not a void—it was as if the world melted, dissolving into a mist I couldn't grasp. My body trembled, light, almost floating, as the fruit's energy pulsed within me. It burned, wild and fierce, a river of fire in my veins. Time stopped. Seconds or hours, I couldn't tell, but when my eyes opened, who I'd been was gone.
My hair wasn't just strands anymore. In the flickering illusions around me, I saw a cascade of silver, pink, and green—colors alive, rippling like they danced to a breeze only I felt. Chaos was painting me, marking me. My eyes, still silver, glowed with a quiet, secret light, as if they cradled pieces of a universe I hadn't yet grasped.
I'd changed. Before, I was small, ordinary. Now, I stretched nearly one meter eighty-five, every muscle carved with a precision that wasn't mine. It was as if something greater had sculpted me, lifting me beyond human. But the real weight sat inside—a new force, restless, humming, waiting to break free.
Then I saw Nael. He stood there, that familiar mask of indifference in place. But his eyes… they betrayed him. They burned, a trapped fire straining to escape. I felt what he wouldn't say: the urge to seize me, to bend me, to make me his. Yet something held him—pride, maybe, or the walls he'd built to stay above it all.
— "You're different," — he said, his voice rough, slicing the silence like a blade.
— "I am different," — I replied, a faint smile curling my lips. It wasn't just an answer—it was a dare. — "And this is only the beginning."
He fell silent. The air between us thickened, charged, as if one move could shatter it. His fingers twitched, almost too slight to catch, as if reaching for something—or someone. But Nael didn't break. He never did. Still, I saw the cracks. Behind that icy front, a man grappled with what to do with me now.
Later, when the fog lifted, I studied my reflection again. It wasn't just my body that had shifted—something deeper had stirred. My shimmering hair wove silver, pink, and green, a mirror to my fate. My eyes saw past the surface, as if the world was a thin skin over something immense.
I felt the Chaos inside me. Not just power—purpose. My tall, steady frame seemed built to carry it. And Nael knew. When our eyes met again, the fire in his silver gaze burned brighter. He wanted to break me, to own me, but he couldn't. It wasn't just pride holding him now—it was what I'd become.
The air pressed down, thick and stifling, as if the world held its breath. My body shook, not from cold, but from a force too big to name—an energy that tore through me, unmaking and remaking me all at once. My hair, a vivid swirl of silver, pink, and green, brushed my skin like feathers sparking with charge. I raised my eyes—silver, lit with a flame not wholly mine—and found Nael.
He stood steps away, his face a slab of stone. But his eyes… they gave him away. A restless, starving glint flickered there, as if he longed to devour me yet fought to hold back with every shred of will. The silence between us was a thread stretched to breaking.
— "You're different…" — he murmured, his voice hoarse, scraping the air like it hurt to let out.
I smiled, a subtle tilt of my mouth, heavy with meaning.
— "Yes…" — I said, letting the word drift, an offer he could take or refuse. — "But so are you."
He didn't answer. His fingers tightened for a moment, as if they ached to reach—me, perhaps?—then stilled. Nael never gave way. It's what made him dangerous… and magnetic.
Later, the cold gnawed at my skin, but a new fire roared within. I felt the Chaos pulsing—not mere strength, but something alive, a purpose shoving me forward. I looked at Nael again. He stood, arms crossed, but a fresh tension coiled in him, a chink in the armor he wore so well.
— "You're useless, you know that?" — he said, his words slashing like frozen knives. — "After all I've done, this is all you manage!"
The blow hit my chest, a strike I didn't see coming. It wasn't true—I knew it—but it stung all the same. My eyes blinked, caught in a fleeting weakness. He saw it. For a second, something crossed his face—not glee, but a shadow of frustration. As if he hated watching me buckle, yet couldn't stop testing me.
I drew a deep breath, the chill flooding my lungs. I'm not that person anymore, I thought, power thrumming beneath my skin.
— "You know that's not true," — I shot back, my voice solid, stitched with a spark of defiance.
I whispered to myself, voice shaky with anticipation: — "Show my status."
The air bent before me, and a screen flickered into view, letters and numbers twinkling like stars. I read, my heart racing.