The trail leading toward the Crimson Vault was treacherous, not in the way of beasts or bandits, but in the quiet, uncanny way that space itself seemed to twist. Kael had noticed it ever since crossing the obsidian ridge bordering the Imperial Domain's hidden sector. His steps left no sound. Shadows moved against the direction of the sun. The trees—if they could still be called that—bore no leaves, only jagged crystal branches humming with faint spiritual energy.
Behind him, only two disciples remained—Feng Lian, the astute strategist from the Cloud Sentinel Pavilion, and Jun, the silent spear-wielder from the northern tribes. The others had turned back, claiming they felt watched or whispered to by unseen entities. Kael did not blame them.
Feng Lian adjusted her glasses, her fingers trembling. "We're walking into a dimensional fracture."
Kael gave a subtle nod. "The Crimson Vault isn't protected by simple arrays. This entire region is a sealed memory… a battlefield that doesn't forget."
Jun tilted his head. "You sound like you've been here before."
Kael remained silent.
In truth, he had not—but something in the air felt familiar. Not memories, but sensations. Fragments of broken wills brushing against his consciousness. He could feel a whisper echoing in his mind. Not words, but impressions. Fear. Betrayal. Hunger.
Hours passed. The three finally arrived at the shattered gates of the Crimson Vault. Once a fortress, it now resembled the ribcage of some long-dead titan, with enormous stone pillars like cracked bones rising from the earth. Rusted weapons still hung in the air—literally suspended mid-strike, as if the battle that ended here had never truly concluded.
Feng Lian exhaled slowly. "The legends were true… This place was a frontline against the Abyssal Races."
Kael's eyes narrowed.
The Abyssals.
A term barely whispered in the current era. The histories had reduced them to myths, fairy tales of horned monsters from a different realm who once warred against humans, celestials, and even demons. But Kael knew better. The runes embedded in this place were Abyssal—just barely readable thanks to the forbidden tomes he'd stolen during his time in the archives.
As they entered, a powerful pulse of spiritual suppression weighed on them like a mountain.
Jun grunted, sweat forming on his brow. "Something doesn't want us here."
Kael nodded. "Then we're close to something important."
They descended deeper into the Vault, where walls bled with corrupted qi. Ghostly images flickered across the stone—echoes of the past. Men and women in ancient armor screamed silently, caught in loops of their dying moments.
Kael pressed forward.
Suddenly, the trio reached an altar. At its center hovered a black lotus, its petals pulsing like a heartbeat. The air thickened. A voice, disembodied and hollow, echoed from the walls.
"Child of shadow… why do you return?"
Kael's blood ran cold. Not because of the voice—but because he understood it.
Abyssal tongue.
Feng Lian fell to her knees, coughing blood. Jun dropped his spear, shielding his head.
Only Kael stood unaffected.
"Because I must know," he said calmly in the same forgotten tongue, "what they buried here."
A moment of silence.
Then the lotus opened.
From its center rose a projection—a shadowy figure with curved horns, half-transparent and war-torn. A warrior of the Abyss.
"You carry the brand of the Void," it said.
Feng Lian gasped. "What… did it say?"
Kael didn't respond. He kept his gaze locked on the figure.
"What is the Void Brand?" he asked.
The figure laughed. A deep, shuddering sound like falling stone.
"It is not a mark… It is a key. You are not merely human, Kael."
The figure's words triggered something within Kael. His mind spiraled. Images rushed in—visions of battles long past, voices crying out in an ancient tongue, and a feeling of falling into a chasm of stars.
When he came to, Kael was kneeling. The lotus had withered. The figure was gone.
Feng Lian was staring at him.
"You were glowing," she whispered. "For a moment, your eyes… they weren't human."
Jun stood behind her, spear raised, uncertain.
Kael rose slowly. "We need to leave."
"What did it tell you?" Feng Lian asked.
Kael looked at her.
"That this war… never ended. And I might be its next battlefield."
Back at the Azure Feather Sect, chaos stirred.
Reports of Kael's victory over Ren Hualing had reached the Grand Elders. Doubts once whispered in corridors now echoed in open meetings.
"How could an outer disciple defeat a core cultivator trained in the Wind Vault Techniques?" an elder snapped.
Another frowned. "I felt it. The boy hides his cultivation. Even my divine sense couldn't penetrate him."
Elder Xu, keeper of the Soul Mirror Pavilion, tapped the table. "Perhaps… we are seeing the return of an old threat. His eyes, during the duel… they were not human."
The Sect Master remained silent. His gaze was fixed on a painting of the Sect's founding battle—against the ancient Demonic Moon Cult.
"There is one way to be sure," he finally said. "Send him to the Central Empire as a representative in the Grand Trials. Let the Empire's eyes fall on him."
Kael returned to the sect days later, tired but composed.
Feng Lian said nothing, but her eyes lingered on him longer than before. Jun kept his distance, though Kael had caught him watching from the shadows.
Lin met him at the courtyard that evening.
"You're changing," she said softly.
Kael looked at the moon. "We all are."
"No. You're… becoming someone else. I don't know if that's a good thing."
He turned to her. "You don't have to know now. Just… believe that I won't let you be hurt."
For a moment, her guard dropped. "Then promise me. No more secrets."
Kael hesitated. "I can't promise that."
She smiled bitterly. "Then I'll wait. But not forever."
As she walked away, Kael felt a weight settle on his chest. Not guilt—something older. A promise made in another life. A war remembered by a soul not entirely his own.
Later that night, Kael sat alone.
In his hand was a shard from the Crimson Vault—a sliver of obsidian etched with runes that pulsed when he bled on it. He placed it before him, meditating.
He had no master. No bloodline that should have granted him this power. And yet, the Vault had called him child. The Abyssal spirit had named him bearer of the Void Brand.
And somewhere deep inside, Kael knew it was true.
His destiny was not one of light or darkness.
It was to stand at the border of both—and decide who would pass.