The Azure Flame Sect pulsed with spiritual energy, alive with the presence of cultivators, envoys, and prodigies from distant clans and sects. The air shimmered faintly with heat, and even the winds carried whispers of power. On the eve of the *Gene Awakening Summit*, the mountain trembled—not from tectonic force, but from the gathering of destiny.
Kyrillos stood on a high balcony, arms folded, watching the glow of the twin moons rise over the peaks. Their silver and blue hues bathed the entire sect in an ethereal light.
"You feel it too, don't you?" came a voice from behind.
It was *Sophia*, dressed in formal violet robes edged with crimson runes. Her swords rested at her sides, and her gaze was focused on the horizon.
"It's thick," Kyrillos replied, "like something's about to tear open."
"It is," Sophia said, her tone flat. "This year's summit will be different. They say the *Celestial Pulse* will sync with the Spirit Vein tonight. Every awakening will be amplified."
Kyrillos narrowed his eyes. "That's good, right?"
Sophia hesitated. "For some. But uncontrolled awakenings can also… destroy the host."
Kyrillos smirked. "Let's hope I'm not one of those."
She looked at him closely. "You joke too easily for someone who carries death in his blood."
He didn't respond. The *Erebos Gene* throbbed in his core again—stronger now, conscious, awake. Since the battle with the Red Veil, it had been muttering inside him, feeding him dreams of a kingdom of ash, of thrones carved from bone and fire.
---
*THE GATHERING*
By nightfall, the outer courtyard of the Azure Flame Sect was flooded with contestants—some draped in silk and spirit armor, others shirtless and scarred from raw battles. Flags bearing ancient crests flapped in the wind.
*Leonidas*, having traveled to watch Kyrillos's test, stood beside Calliope and a few Lysaran elders in the reserved observer stands. Calliope's eyes never left the platform.
The *Great Flame Altar* burned in the center, surrounded by six elemental obelisks, each representing a path: Flame, Ice, Storm, Stone, Void, and Beast.
Sophia took the stage. "Today, on the night of dual moons, we gather for the Summit. May your genes awaken in glory—or not at all."
Kyrillos stepped forward, joining dozens of participants on the inner circle. Around him stood giants, prodigies, noble heirs, and orphans alike. The air crackled.
---
*THE AWAKENING RITE*
One by one, contenders stepped forward to place their hand on the altar. Flames would rise, spirits would respond—and genes would awaken.
A girl from the Mistwood Clan touched the altar—blue lightning crackled around her. "*Storm Elk Gene*," an elder announced. Applause.
Next, a massive boy from the Crimson Spire awakened the *Inferno Bear Gene*—molten runes burned into his skin.
Then came Kyrillos.
Whispers rippled.
"Is that the outsider?"
"The one who killed three cultists alone?"
"He looks... calm."
He placed his hand on the altar.
Nothing.
Then—a pulse.
The fire collapsed into black flame. The obelisks trembled. The sky above turned momentarily gray.
*Everyone froze.*
Dark violet tendrils rose from the altar, wrapping around Kyrillos's body. The crowd gasped. Cultivators dropped to one knee, their spirits recoiling.
Sophia's sword was half-drawn.
"Gene of Origin: *Erebos*. Rank: Unclassified."
The elders were silent.
One whispered, "That gene… was thought to be extinct."
Another added, "No. Forbidden."
---
*AFTERMATH*
Kyrillos stumbled back. Visions still swam in his mind. A throne in shadows. A voice whispering ancient names. The world had twisted for a moment—like he had seen something… *before creation*.
The crowd was divided—some stunned, others muttering with fear. A few noble clan heirs stepped back entirely.
But Sophia stepped forward.
"His control was clean. Stable. He's no threat—yet."
Still, the Azure Flame Sect's high elder stepped up and gave Kyrillos a long, unreadable look. "You walk a narrow path, boy. The Erebos does not awaken for the weak. Or the kind."
Kyrillos looked him in the eye. "I didn't ask to be either."
---
*WHISPERS OF SHADOWS*
That night, back in the sanctum, Kyrillos paced. He could feel the stares. Even allies now looked at him differently. Not with admiration—but wariness.
Calliope entered quietly. "I saw it," she said. "Everyone did."
He looked at her, shoulders tight. "You afraid of me too?"
She walked up to him, punched him in the chest. "Terrified. But not for the reason you think."
He smirked, rubbing his ribs. "I guess I still bleed."
"Good," she said. "Just don't lose yourself."
---
*IN THE SHADOWS*
That same night, in the dark beneath the monastery, a hooded figure lit a candle on an ancient altar.
"He's awakened it," the figure said. "The last bearer of Erebos walks again."
Another voice, deeper, responded. "Then the balance breaks sooner than expected. The seals will weaken."
"And the Cult?"
"They'll come. They always do."