Chapter 205: The Trial with Alena
The altar flared with light.
Damon’s vision went white. When it cleared, he stood alone on a stone platform suspended in endless darkness.
Alena was nowhere in sight.
A figure materialized across from him. Humanoid. Made of shifting blue light. It held no weapon, but its hands crackled with condensed spiritual energy.
"Defeat the Echo of Worth to claim the prize," the ancient voice announced.
The Echo lunged.
Damon sidestepped. The creature’s fist passed inches from his face, the wind pressure alone stinging his skin.
Fast.
He drew the Chaos Devourer. The black blade hummed as he channeled spiritual energy into it.
The Echo attacked again. A flurry of strikes. Damon parried the first two, ducked the third, and countered with a horizontal slash that bisected the creature’s torso.
The severed halves dissolved into drifting motes of blue light, dispersing like embers caught in a windless void before vanishing entirely into the surrounding darkness.
Then, with a sound like a slow intake of breath, the particles reversed.
They spiraled inward and knit themselves back together, the Echo reconstituting itself whole and unharmed, its crackling hands already raised.
’Of course it wouldn’t be that simple.’
"Physical damage alone won’t work," Damon muttered.
He activated his Incubus Celestial Eyes. The Echo’s structure became visible. A dense core sat at its center, pulsing with energy. That was the target.
The Echo charged.
Damon waited until the last second. Then he activated Astral Steps.
He appeared behind the Echo, the Chaos Devourer already mid-swing. The blade pierced the creature’s back and struck the core.
The Echo shattered.
The platform dissolved. Damon fell through darkness.
Alena landed hard on stone.
She was in a forest. No, not a real forest. A construct. The trees were too perfect, the light too even.
A cauldron sat in the center of the clearing. Ingredients were scattered around it. Spirit herbs. Beast cores. Purified water.
"Demonstrate mastery of the alchemical arts," the ancient voice said. "Create a Heaven-Grade Recovery Pill within the time allotted. Failure results in forfeiture."
Alena’s blood ran cold.
Heaven-Grade Recovery Pill. That was a peak Earth Spirit Realm alchemist’s work. She was only at the early stages of that level.
But she had no choice.
She approached the cauldron and began sorting the ingredients.
Damon landed in a corridor.
Stone walls. Torches flickering with blue flame. A single door at the end.
He walked toward it.
The door opened on its own.
Beyond it, Alena stood at a cauldron, sweat beading on her forehead. Her hands moved with practiced precision as she added ingredients in sequence.
She was in the middle of her trial.
Damon stepped through the doorway.
The space shifted.
He was now standing at the edge of her clearing, invisible to her.
He watched her work.
She made a mistake. Added an ingredient too early. The mixture hissed and threatened to destabilize.
Alena’s hands trembled. She reached for a stabilizer herb.
’That the wrong one.’
Damon stepped forward. "It’s The Frost Lotus Petal not the Silver Leaf."
Alena’s head snapped up. Her eyes went wide.
"Damon?"
"The Frost Lotus Petal. It’ll bind the conflicting energies without neutralizing the core compound."
She looked at the ingredients in her hands. Then back at the cauldron.
She stared at the ingredients for a heartbeat longer, then set down the Silver Leaf and reached for the Frost Lotus Petal instead.
Her slender fingers, still trembling slightly, dropped the pale, crystalline petal into the churning mixture with careful deliberateness.
The violent hissing died down almost immediately.
The swirling colors in the cauldron settled from an angry, turbulent crimson into a deep, resonant amber. The mixture stabilized.
Alena released a long, shaky breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her shoulders dropping at least an inch as the tension drained from them.
For a moment she simply stood there, steadying herself against the lip of the cauldron with one hand.
Then her forest-green eyes cut sharply sideways toward him.
"How are you even here?" she asked, her voice low and carefully composed, though the faint color still riding high on her cheekbones betrayed her.
"I finished my trial." Damon crossed his arms, watching her with an easy, unhurried calm.
"Once the system judged it complete, it gave me the option to observe the remaining one."
Alena’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. She turned back to her cauldron, adjusting the flow of spiritual energy feeding into the flame beneath it.
"So you watched me nearly fail."
"I watched you correct course," he said simply.
She gave him a look that was half gratitude, half irritation. Then she turned back to the cauldron.
"Don’t distract me, please. I need to focus."
Damon smiled and stayed silent.
Twenty minutes later, Alena completed the pill.
It wasn’t perfect. The color was slightly off, the spiritual resonance uneven. But it was Heaven-Grade.
The ancient voice spoke.
"Trial complete," the ancient voice intoned, its resonance deep and unhurried, like stone grinding against stone at the very foundation of the world.
"Both champions have proven worthy."
The moment the final syllable faded, the clearing began to dissolve.
They stood on the altar again, the jade box open between them. Inside lay a single crystal vial containing a swirling golden liquid.
"Dragon’s Essence," the voice said.
"Consumed, it will elevate the drinker’s bloodline by one grade. Use it wisely."
Alena stared at the vial.
"This is worth more than everything I own."
Damon picked up the vial. He examined it, then held it out to her.
"Take it."
Alena blinked. "What?"
"You’re an alchemist. A better bloodline means better pill refinement. Better pills mean faster growth for everyone."
"You’re giving this to me?"
"I’m investing in you."
She took the vial. Her fingers brushed his. She didn’t pull away immediately.
"Why?" she asked softly.
"Because I want you on my team. Not just for the tournament. For everything after."
Alena looked at the vial. Then at him. Something shifted in her expression. The wariness softened.
"You’re not what I expected, Damon Arcknight."
"Neither are you, Alena Terra."
The altar rumbled.
The Warden of the Eastern Gate was coming.