The Last Disciple of Lightning Peak

⚡ The Last Disciple of Lightning Peak

🌌 Outer Trial Grounds — After Sylara's Arrival

The dust was still settling from Sylara's sudden intervention. The once-defiant examiner had fled, his pride broken and robe stained with blood. Two elders still stood at the edge of the courtyard, their expressions a strange mix of awe and uncertainty.

The elder with the long beard and tall hat stepped forward now. Several thin rings clicked faintly from his left wrist as he walked, each one etched with strange runes. Though clearly powerful, his aura seemed subdued—muted in the presence of Sylara.

"Lady Sylara," he said respectfully, his head slightly bowed. "Had we known you were coming, we would have sent disciples to receive you."

Sylara responded calmly, her voice firm but polite:

"There was no need. I brought my junior brother for the trial. Nothing more."

The other elder turned slightly to look at Aarush. His brow rose.

"That boy is your junior brother? What is his name?"

"Aarush," Sylara replied simply.

"Ah. A good name," the elder nodded. "But why the disturbance?"

Sylara gestured lightly to the aftermath.

"Ask your examiner. He insulted disciples, declared trials over before their time, and mocked a soul he couldn't recognize. A man who can't see potential shouldn't be allowed to judge it."

The elder's gaze shifted to the examiner, who stood at the side with head lowered in shame. But inside, his fists clenched.

One day… I will repay this humiliation.

The elder sighed, then turned to Sylara and Aarush with a deep bow.

"On behalf of the sect, I apologize for this mistake."

As they began to walk away, the second elder glanced back briefly—his eyes lingering on Niva. Something flickered in his expression, recognition of a deeper truth perhaps, but he said nothing.

Then he turned back and addressed everyone loudly.

"Very well. The situation is settled. The trial may continue."

He cast a sharp glance at the examiner.

"You are suspended for half a year. Return with fifty silver coins to pay your fine. Until then, you will not step foot in this sect."

The examiner gritted his teeth, but bowed, casting one last hateful look toward Aarush and Sylara before vanishing down the steps.

"Now then," the elder announced. "Let us resume."

💖 A Deep Breath Before the Lightning

Sylara looked to Aarush, giving him a small nod.

He stepped forward slowly. His fists were clenched, not from fear—but from everything that had led to this moment.

As he walked, his mind stirred with memory:

The days he was beaten. The whispers of being "rootless." The day his master accepted him without asking his origin. The day that same master vanished.

He closed his eyes briefly.

If not now, then when? he whispered inwardly.

His palm touched the Pillar.

Nothing happened.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Did it fail?" "Is he truly rootless after all?"

But Aarush did not move.

He dug deeper.

No more silence, he told himself. No more waiting.

The courtyard stilled.

Suddenly, the wind halted. Even the distant birds stopped singing. From the nearby forest, several spirit beasts raised their heads, startled.

⚡️ Then—a blue arc of lightning cracked from the sky.

It struck the top of the Pillar, and in that instant, the clouds roared to life.

A blade of thunder split downward into the stone—not to destroy, but to awaken.

The air burned electric. Spiritual pressure howled through the trial grounds.

Aarush's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly blue. A single streak of lightning ran across his iris.

A sword began to form within the aura—its hilt forged in clouded steel, its edge humming with storm qi. A Thunder Sword.

The crowd fell silent.

One elder whispered:

"A Stormbound Martial Soul… it's real."

Sylara's gaze softened just slightly.

Just as Master said. A soul born of silence and storm.

And Aarush, standing at the center of it all, finally smiled.

"It's time."