The backend of the shop was far more spacious than its front—perhaps five to ten times larger—but it was just as cluttered. Towering mountains of dusty boxes rose from every corner and crevice, filling the space with a sense of organized chaos.
Steadily, Samael and Aegon made their way deeper into the storage area until they reached what appeared to be a solid wall. Squatting down, Aegon punched through the rotten wooden floor, his hand piercing into the dark. After a moment, he pulled out a hidden pulley.
A soft click echoed.
Suddenly, the wall in front of them began to shift, its pieces disassembling like parts of a mechanical puzzle unraveling in motion.
But instead of revealing the street that should have lain behind it, the opening gave way to a winding set of sleek, metallic staircases spiraling downward.
Floating above the staircase, a series of glowing runes appeared in midair, casting soft light over the dark entryway.
Aegon turned to Samael, waiting.
Without hesitation, Samael stepped forward and tapped the runes. An array of symbols appeared—resembling a keyboard—and he began to type.
It took him a few seconds to finish, and once he did, another click sounded. Without a word, the two descended the metallic staircase, which began to seal behind them the moment their feet touched the steps.
—
The space they entered was vast—ridiculously vast. Nearly as expansive as the Elder Hall Samael had stood in earlier that day.
The design was simple yet sophisticated. Every surface—walls, floors, ceiling—was forged of a polished dark metal that gleamed under the soft glow of embedded lighting.
Lining the walls were dozens of study areas and chambers, each seemingly dormant, their entrances hidden behind metallic slabs. Across the metal surfaces, one could occasionally glimpse pulsing runes—black, red, and white—flashing in and out of view like fading stars.
At the center of it all, a floating circular platform hovered gently, and upon it rested a single plump cushion, waiting in eerie stillness.
Samael walked toward it without hesitation, while Aegon moved toward one of the metallic study terminals along the wall.
This place—The Steel Garden—was Samael's sanctuary. His personal base, a space he had occupied in every one of his lives, though usually not until decades later.
The Steel Garden was a marvel of his own creation. It housed thousands of Module Stations—each a specialized chamber designed to aid him in specific tasks—along with mountains of resources stored within sealed compartments and boxes, many of which remained in the shop above.
Currently, most of the garden's functions were sealed or restricted, but even the accessible parts offered more than enough for what he needed.
Ironically, The Steel Garden wasn't even located within the capital. It sat directly beneath the royal palace where Samael had grown up—hidden in plain sight, known to no one.
To reach it required a teleportation tunnel like the one they had just passed through.
SHAH!
Samael sat cross-legged on the central cushion, closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, falling into a rhythmic breathing pattern that gradually emptied his thoughts, one by one.
"What path are you gonna go for this time?" Aegon asked from a distance, his voice calm, knowing full well Samael wouldn't answer unless he wanted to.
To that, Samael only chuckled.
Hearing that chuckle, Aegon's heart dropped slightly.
'Is he…?'
WHOOOOSH!
A wind picked up around Samael's body, stirred by nothing more than the rhythmic pull of his breath. His lungs drew in qi like a tide pulling in the sea.
Cultivation was a long, seemingly endless road. But every journey began with the first step: The Awakening Realm—the foundational stage that marked a cultivator's true start.
It consisted of ten stages, each one building upon the other, yet it remained optional for most. Only those with deep guidance or rare opportunities even knew of its existence.
Its purpose was as the name implied—to awaken. To deepen one's awareness of the self and attune one's body to the flow of qi.
There were two main methods.
The first involved consuming a Heart-Stone, a rare mineral that forced a shallow awakening, allowing minimal control over qi and minor body refinement.
The second—natural awakening—required no external tools. It was a method of absolute focus, will, and endurance. Those who succeeded would traverse the ten stages, building a foundation unrivaled by conventional cultivators.
The path of a true awakening was brutal. And among them, some paths were far more extreme than others.
Which is why Aegon asked. Which method would he choose this time? Because the more dangerous the method, the greater the rewards.
Samael's answer came in a whisper, yet it hit Aegon like thunder.
"Ashen Madness."
Aegon's jaw dropped. But before he could voice his protest, Samael had already begun.
He sank deeper into meditation, his consciousness entering a realm of complete focus. His senses withdrew, his awareness coiled inward.
The first—and only—step required to naturally awaken was simple in concept but torturous in practice:
Purify the body.
Strip it of all impurities. Harmonize it with qi until it became one with the world's flow—akin to a child born of the elements themselves.
And what better way to purify than through pain? What better crucible than the wrath of the heavens?
This was the essence of Ashen Madness.
The first phase: Tribulation Sear.
WHOOOSH!
The embedded runes along the metallic walls began to glow—one after another—flaring with explosive bursts of light. The ceiling above Samael groaned, then parted, revealing a swirling portal of brilliant blue.
The platform beneath him began to rise, lifting slowly toward the heavens.
He pierced through the portal.
—
Surprisingly, it led him not to some isolated wasteland—but back to the capital, far above the clouds. From this height, no ordinary cultivator could sense him. Not that it mattered—the platform itself suppressed all presence.
Seated above the clouds, Samael opened his eyes and took in the view.
"Perfect," he whispered, speaking only to the wind.
Below him, the capital sprawled like a living sea—its people reduced to tiny dots, unaware of the storm building above.
The more people caught within the range of the tribulation, the harder it would become. And the harder it was, the greater the boon it would offer.
Where else would he find such a concentration of life than the capital itself? Especially now, with rumors of his lost immunity drawing crowds in droves?
Samael was meticulous in ways most could not comprehend. When one thought they had unraveled one of his plans, they only found themselves tangled deeper in another.
He looked skyward. And slowly, he spoke.
"I challenge the Heavens."