He was Kael, a cultivator of precision and harmony, a warrior who had faced his past, his path, and now stood ready to face whatever the pagoda demanded.
The trial was not over, but Kael was no longer just surviving—he was ascending, forging a legacy that would echo beyond the void.
The Gatekeeper raised its arms, the runes flaring brighter, the bridge trembling as the final phase loomed.
Kael met its gaze, his grin a quiet challenge, a promise to the ancient sentinel and to himself. The dance of the Gatekeeper was nearing its crescendo, and Kael would lead it to its end.
Kael stood motionless on the narrow stone bridge, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, sweat clinging to his back like a second skin. The void around him pulsed with a restless energy, the grey mist swirling in silent anticipation, its whispers a faint echo of the trials he had already conquered.
