The atmosphere of the Celestial Sect was serene as always. Birds chirped in harmony, magical beasts ran freely across floating islands, and waterfalls sparkled beneath the radiant skies. It was a realm of beauty and reverence—on the surface.
But within the towering sect halls, behind layers of formation-guarded chambers and privacy enchantments, the mood was anything but calm.
Sect Master Kael Darkstar, sovereign ruler of the Celestial Sect and father of the Holy Daughter Morgana Darkstar, stood in silence. His obsidian robes shimmered with celestial sigils, and his sharp gaze never left the hovering astral projection before him—a recording of the survival test battle.
It displayed the monstrous battle between Xandros and the fused form of Dayne and Teneb—Equinox.
Xandros's figure shimmered in the projection, each strike he delivered containing decades—no, lifetimes—of mastery. The Sect Master didn't speak for a long while, his expression unreadable.
But then, his lips curled.
"This boy… is dangerous."
His voice echoed through the chamber, prompting the arrival of several Elders. Each of them bowed slightly, watching the projection with tense expressions.
"Do we know his origin, Sect Master?" Elder Liu asked cautiously.
Kael Darkstar shook his head. "No. Not from any of the great clans, nor from the lesser branches. He is… an anomaly."
Elder Miyan stepped forward. "Should we consider… inviting him into the sect?"
Kael snorted. "Invite? No. We will recruit him. He is a walking calamity, but if molded correctly, he can be the sword of the Celestial Sect."
Elder Yun frowned. "And if he refuses?"
Kael's smile was cold. "Then we prepare the scabbard for his blade—and bury it."
The Elders exchanged uneasy glances.
Elder Yun muttered, "Forgive me, Sect Master, but if he is truly this strong already… what happens if we fail to control him?"
Kael's gaze hardened. "Then we make it so he has no choice. Everyone has a weakness. If he doesn't show one, we manufacture one."
A tense silence followed.
Kael waved his hand. "Send emissaries to observe him. Subtly. If he joins willingly, we offer the status of Core Disciple. If not, we push from the shadows. A thousand blades can achieve what one cannot."
"Understood, Sect Master," they replied in unison.
Kael's gaze darkened before he raised his voice again. "Bring in Morgana."
Moments later, Morgana Darkstar entered, her posture graceful, her expression composed. Yet her father's glare struck her like a thunderbolt.
"You lost," he said simply.
Morgana clenched her fists, but remained silent.
"To a commoner," Kael continued, stepping down from his dais. "Do you understand the disgrace you've brought?"
"He's not a commoner," she finally said, her voice cool as ice. "He's something else entirely."
Kael studied her. "You admire him?"
Morgana's eyes flickered. "No… I acknowledge him. He beat me without relying on underhanded tricks. He fought like a warrior who's lived a thousand lives."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "And what did you learn?"
"Never be too arrogant, there is always someone stronger than you."
A long pause. Kael's expression softened just slightly.
"You'll observe Xandros and this Jason personally. Learn they are. Their goals. And if he's a threat to the sect—"
"I will handle it," she finished, bowing.
Kael turned his back to her. "Good. Perhaps your failure can still be of use."
As he said that, Morgana clenched her fists and walked away.
--- ✦ ---
Far away, deep within the cursed ravines of the Abyssal Continent, where sunlight dared not touch and demonic qi saturated the land, a hidden temple pulsated with a dark heartbeat.
Inside, six cloaked figures knelt before a grotesque statue—a horned demon with six eyes and a crown of bloodstone. Flames flickered in unnatural hues, and the scent of incense mixed with sulfur choked the air.
The leader of the cloaked figures—a tall man with a skeletal mask—spoke first.
"The child of destiny has emerged. Our long watch has ended."
The others chanted, "All hail the Heavenly Demon."
The leader continued. "Though he knows it not, the vessel has awakened. The one who shall trample fate. The inheritor of wrath. We must not fail him."
Another devotee spoke, this one female. "But he walks in ignorance. Shall we not approach him?"
"No," the leader responded. "The path of the Demon Lord is one of solitude and realization. We are not to guide him… only to clear his path."
A third voice—a guttural one—grunted. "And what of the boy Xandros, the one whose energy is too pure to ignore?"
There was a heavy pause.
"Uncalculated. Not in the records. Not in the prophecies. He is… outside the loom of fate. Dangerous. If he aids the Chosen, we shall smite him. If he stands neutral, we ignore him. If he threatens the Heavenly Demon… we act."
They all nodded in agreement.
A fourth, quieter voice asked, "But what if the boy Xandros becomes a threat more than we can take?"
The leader's tone turned solemn. "There is no such thing in the mighty presence of the Heavenly Demon"
The flames roared in answer.
--- ✦ ---
Beyond mortal comprehension, in the void between galaxies, aboard an ethereal citadel drifting through hyperspace, another set of eyes had witnessed Xandros's ascension.
These were not humans. Not demons. They were something in between.
The Varnak Collective.
Bio-mechanical alien beings devoted to the extraction and replication of power across dimensions. Their forms flickered with data and nerve-strands, blending synthetic awareness with organic instinct. Each Varnak had a hive-linked consciousness, sharing information faster than light.
One spoke, its voice a modulated hum of a thousand overlapping tones.
"Subject X-912 codename: Xandros. Power: extreme. Origin: unidentified. Energy resonance: unique."
"Replication potential?" another asked.
"Insufficient. Genetic deviation exceeds adaptive range."
"Recommendation?" a third inquired.
"Observation followed by extraction. Body must be acquired—dead or alive."
The Prime Varnak pulsed with psychic electricity. "Begin covert operations. Activate sleeper protocols. Monitor all digital spectrums. Begin biological mapping through indirect means."
"Understood."
"Warning," the Prime Varnak added. "If subject engages in direct combat… retreat. Current assets insufficient."
And just like that, the order was made.
--- ✦ ---
Back in the realm of humans, within the neutral city of Harmonix—a trading hub for sects, clans, and wandering cultivators—a cloaked man slowly sipped tea in a corner tavern. His aura was suppressed, and his face hidden beneath a simple hood.
But his mind was racing.
"Xandros…" he murmured.
This was Elder Qian of the Fateweaver Sect, a man known to spy and trade secrets for power. He wrote a single name on the parchment before him, then burned it to ash and fed it to a whispering crow.
"Outside of Fate grasps, uninfluenced by Destiny..... this might be glory or disaster"
"Whatever you are… everyone wants a piece."
He looked up at the sky. "And yet, it seems impossible."
--- ✦ ---
In the Eastern Empire, the Phoenix Pavilion gathered under a moonlit sky, cloaked in scarlet robes. Their Matron, an aged woman of surpassing power and spiritual insight, stared into the flames of an incense brazier.
"The tides have changed," she whispered. "A new force rises… not born of heaven, nor cultivated by fortune."
Her disciples, clad in robes of fire silk, looked up. "Xandros?"
She nodded. "He walks paths none foresaw. And that makes him dangerous… or useful. Send the Red Orchid. Let us see what he desires. For desire… is the key to all men."
"Shall we tempt him with wealth? Power? Women"
The Matron shook her head. "No. We shall watch him, learn of his desire, and use it against him. At that time, he shall be but a puppet for our goals.
--- ✦ ---
Night fell.
Within the silent garden atop the Skyward Peak, a figure sat alone at a marble table.
The stars above shimmered in strange constellations, and the wind carried the faint scent of spiritual herbs.
Xandros.
His eyes were fixed on a chessboard. One hand moved the black pieces. The other, the white.
He played both sides. And yet he smirked.
A knowing smile.
As if each move from the great forces—each plot, each whisper—was a piece he'd already accounted for.
He moved a knight. "It is all going according to plan."
"Checkmate"
--- ✦ ---
Hey guys. I have bad news. My contract application got rejected, and it demotivated me from continuing this story. But I still want to continue, because I believe it has potential. So updates might be slower, since I want to make each episode better than the previous.