The Choice of Sacred Art
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"Damon Vael," First Elder Ilyana called.
The courtyard stilled. Damon stepped forward, the subtle spatial distortions around him intensifying. Confidence radiated from his posture.
Alex watched closely as Damon approached one of the tablets pulsing with cold silver light. Its surface shimmered like a still pond, rippling as his hand hovered above it.
A beat of silence.
The runes flared to life, flooding the pavilion with blinding silver light. Space twisted visibly, cracks forming in the air before snapping shut.
"Damon Vael has been acknowledged by the Void-Step Scripture," Ilyana declared.
Pride rippled through the Space Faction. Damon's eyes briefly landed on Alex, filled with cool superiority.
"Pathetic," Damon mouthed, inaudible, before stepping back.
The next names were called. One by one, cultivators approached the tablets. Some succeeded, others were rejected — their faces darkening in shame.
Then:
"Selene Vael."
Whispers echoed. Even elders leaned forward, intrigued.
Selene's steps were graceful, deliberate. Her eyes, pale as moonlight, betrayed little emotion as she stopped before a tablet veiled in faint golden threads.
The moment her hand touched it, the runes flared — golden strands weaving through the air, forming complex Fate patterns.
"Selene Vael has been acknowledged by the Weaver's Veil Codex," Ilyana announced.
The Fate Faction exchanged knowing glances. Selene's reputation, already formidable, solidified further.
Then came the inevitable.
"Alex Vael."
The courtyard buzzed with whispers, disdain thinly veiled.
"The lost branch family…"
"His grandfather was a legend, but he vanished. His bloodline's weak now."
Alex stepped forward, ignoring them. His eyes scanned the floating tablets. The Void-Step Scripture, the Weaver's Veil Codex, and others pulsed — but none called to him.
Instead, a faint… disturbance tugged at his senses.
He turned.
Behind the main platform, space rippled unnaturally. A distortion — almost invisible — split the air like a hairline crack in glass.
Alex approached. The whispers grew louder.
"What is he—?"
Before anyone could stop him, Alex stepped through the distortion.
Gasps erupted.
Beyond the crack in space, hidden from plain sight, floated a damaged, ancient tablet. Cracked. Weathered. Its runes warped impossibly — looping through space, twisting time, distorting Fate.
"Impossible," an elder muttered. "That Sacred Art was sealed—"
"He's unworthy—"
But Alex wasn't listening. His instincts — or perhaps something else — guided him. The dormant power within stirred awake, pulsing with anticipation.
Outer God Descent whispered in his soul.
His hand pressed to the ancient tablet.
The runes ignited. Light cascaded across the courtyard. Time bent. Space rippled. Fate trembled.
"Alex Vael has been acknowledged by the Paradox Scripture," Ilyana's voice cracked, her composure slipping for the first time.
A stunned silence followed.
Elders whispered urgently, some faces pale, others intrigued.
The Paradox Scripture — a forbidden Sacred Art — woven from distorted space, fractured time, and twisted fate. Supposedly sealed generations ago after cultivators driven mad by its complexity vanished… or worse.
Alex turned, meeting the crowd's stunned gazes.
Damon's expression darkened, disbelief etched across his features.
Selene's unreadable mask faltered slightly — curiosity flickering behind her eyes.
Alex smirked faintly, the alien power within pulsing stronger now.
"Game on," he thought.