Moments later, footsteps echoed from the outer corridor. Chaghan entered, Supreme Warden of the Stormguard, clad in full battle dress. Behind him came five of his wardens, silent and poised, expressions unreadable.
Then followed five more, his students.
Wen Tu. Nyzekh. Bruga. Ryoku. Kael.
They walked in formation, eyes forward, the weight of past trials etched into their bearing.
Now all stood in the War Hall. Commanders, wardens, and disciples, waiting.
Altan did not speak.
A stillness settled over the room. The map's runes glowed softly, casting pale light across steel and stone, but no one moved.
Altan's gaze was distant, his thoughts unreadable. He stood at the edge of the table, unmoving, eyes fixed on the map but not truly seeing it.
The silence stretched longer. A minute. Then another. And still he said nothing.
No one dared interrupt. Not even Chaghan.
Finally, Altan stepped back from the map.
"Follow me," he said.
He turned, and the command broke the silence like a blade through ice. Wordlessly, they followed him down through the inner corridors of Gale Citadel. Past war chambers and sealed vaults. Past cold iron and stone staircases. Deeper still.
Until they reached the platform below the Chasm.
Massive doors rumbled open, revealing the hollow expanse of the training arena far below. Cracked stone. Faded blood. Markings of old trials. Every Stormguard knew this place.
Altan stood on the edge and faced them all.
"This arena has broken many. It will break you again."
He walked past them, stopping at the center of the floor.
"Each one of you will test the others. In pairs. Rotating duels. No armor beyond standard issue. No elemental focus unless ordered. You will fight with what you have trained. With what you remember. With what you forgot."
He looked directly at Chaghan.
"That includes you."
Chaghan gave the barest nod.
"I want to see everything you've learned. Your growth. Your flaws. No one is exempt, not even you, Chaghan."
Altan drew a long breath, surveying them one last time.
"Form your lines. The test begins."
He gestured toward the students.
"These five have passed the Crucible. Each has endured the full Chasm cycle. Elemental affinity or not, they've earned their place."
He faced Chaghan and the five Stormguard wardens.
"No more trainees. From now on, they're brothers. Treat them as you would your own. Brothers of the Stormguard. Understood?"
Chaghan answered without hesitation. "Understood, Commander."
The five wardens offered firm nods.
Altan stepped aside and addressed them all.
"This isn't a match to entertain. It's not about hierarchy. This is a field test."
He walked down the line, meeting each gaze.
"You will face each other, Stormguard and student alike. One-on-one. Live steel. Wardens, you may use your resonances. Stoneheart, Waterheart, whatever you carry, bring it. Students, use your signature forms. I want to see the teachings forged in fire and honed by the Chasm."
He raised a hand to signal.
"Form pairs. Begin."
Without delay, the warriors moved into position across the ring.
Wen Tu stepped forward, his staff humming faintly with bronze rings, the barksteel alive under his grip. He grounded himself, drawing unseen qi from the stone below. Across from him stood a Stormguard veteran, stance wide and sure, cloaked in Waterheart presence.
Verdance met steel.
The Stormguard advanced with sweeping arcs, his blade gliding with fluid precision. Wen Tu pivoted, rooted in his Verdant Root Sutra, redirecting force like wind through branches. When the blade came low, he leapt, not back, but forward, staff spiraling to catch the momentum. He aimed to strike the temple, but the veteran dipped, responding with a counterflow of water resonance that softened the hit and wrapped it into a shoulder throw.
Wen Tu twisted mid-air, using earth qi to absorb the fall. He rolled and rebounded off his heel, staff spinning into another strike. This time the tip cracked against the veteran's shoulder, but the blow was dulled. Waterheart coiled again, pulling the veteran out of reach like a reed bending to the tide.
They clashed again. Once, twice—each time Wen Tu seeking an opening, each time the Stormguard responding like a tide. A final shoulder check knocked both combatants down together in a crack of stone and breath.
The steward's voice echoed from the gantry above. "Draw."
Ryoku advanced next, Echo Step shimmering beneath his strikes. He ghosted from stance to stance, blade flashing like a memory. The Stormguard he faced used Stoneheart resonance, unyielding and methodical. Kensho met tower shield, Resolve Blade flickering between cracks. Ryoku's ghost echoes created false angles, but the Stormguard adjusted, grounding himself like a mountain.
The duel became a rhythm of speed against solidity. Ryoku dashed in from the left, but his afterimage struck right. The Stormguard deflected both with a single pivot, slamming his shield into Ryoku's flank. But Ryoku absorbed it, spun low, and slashed upward—only to find his blade caught in the grooves of a reinforced gauntlet.
Stone gritted. Echo shimmered. They moved like opposites in harmony. Ryoku unleashed a flickering strike through his Echo Loop, a rapid flick meant to bypass defense, but the Stormguard countered with a grounded stomp that disrupted Ryoku's rhythm and balance.
After a drawn-out flurry of precise exchanges, neither yielded.
"Draw," said the steward.
Bruga followed, ember vents along his war axe flaring red. Heat shimmered off his back as his aura ignited. His Stormguard opponent used Waterheart and misdirection, bending pressure away with flowing redirection. Every clash sent up sparks and steam. Pyroclastic Palms slammed against fluid shields. Ember Hatchets whirled in arcs.
Bruga roared, feinting high but dragging a magma-line strike across the ground, forcing the warden to leap. But Waterheart met it with a wave of chill air, quenching the trail. The warden turned, slicing through steam with a thin glaive, landing a glancing strike on Bruga's pauldron.
Bruga absorbed the blow, surged forward, his axe a blur of crimson arcs. He slammed the haft into the warden's chest, knocking him back—but not down. A final blow rose over Bruga's shoulder, crashing down toward the warden's head. It stopped a hand's breadth away, locked with the glaive between.
The final clash left them both on their knees, scorched, breath ragged, but unbroken.
"Draw," the steward declared again.
Kael stepped into the arena against a Stormguard whose Stoneheart qi pushed wind away with sheer gravity. But Kael danced through the current. His Whisper Veil blurred his edges.
Wind curved around him like breath through reeds. He flickered forward, then vanished. The Stormguard blinked—and Kael reappeared at his flank, blade biting.
The duel moved like a storm within a shadow. Kael spun, his form dissolving into phantom wisps. The warden's hammer crashed down, shattering stone, but Kael was already gone.
He struck once—twice—then vanished again.
The fight ended with Kael's blade at the warden's throat. Clean. Controlled. Kael exhaled. Not relief. Not triumph. Just stillness.
"Victory—Kael," the steward said.
Then Nyzekh stepped forward. Void against form. His twin sabers flickered like vanishing stars. The Stormguard assumed a Waterheart stance, but it wasn't enough. Nyzekh bent perception, his Hollow Step folding qi into false emptiness.
He vanished left, struck right. The warden blocked—only to feel a shallow cut scratched across his cuirass. Nyzekh had phased through a blind angle. The next strike came from above—then behind—each just enough to score, never lethal. The warden turned, dizzy with angles.
A breath later, a second cut split across his sleeve.
"Victory—Nyzekh," came the ruling.
Altan raised his hand. "Wardens, retreat. Chaghan. Step forward."
Chaghan entered the circle.
"Kael," Altan said. "Your match continues."
Kael nodded, wind curling around his limbs.
Chaghan launched first, not with fists, but with Flameheart resonance. The heat warped the air. Kael's shadows scattered. The two vanished into a blur of fire and air, shadow and burst.
Kael nearly landed a Whisperdraw strike—until Chaghan's flame shield erupted outward, knocking him back. Chaghan's Waterheart surged through the floor, halting Kael's domain. One final pulse from Chaghan's core dropped Kael to a knee.
"Victory—Chaghan," said the steward above.
Altan gave a nod.
"Final match."
Nyzekh stepped forward. Void met storm.
Chaghan bowed once.
"Let's end this."
Nyzekh vanished. His sabers struck thirty-two times in a span that could not be measured—The Third Fold. One doctrine. Full execution.
Chaghan breathed. Flameheart, Waterheart, and Stoneheart combined. He forged a shield of shifting resonance, a triple barrier pulsing like a living heart. Stone to anchor. Flame to shatter. Water to flow.
Nyzekh's strikes collided. Each fold broke on the shield. The final blow cracked the air, and the shield held.
Silence.
Then both stepped back.
"Draw," the steward intoned.
No one argued.
Chaghan looked at Nyzekh. "Well done."
The Void-disciple nodded.
Altan surveyed them all.
"You've improved. But there is more to learn. This is only the beginning."
The Stormguard and students bowed together in unison, one line, one formation.
The dust hadn't even settled before the arena lights dimmed.