The testing ground was wide and open.
The earth had cracked from heat long accumulated. Dust the color of rust drifted thick in the air until the dry, acrid smell caught in the throat.
Arthian stood among hundreds of applicants, all wearing the same grey cloth — yet not one of them stood the same way.
Some puffed out their chests. Some clenched their fists. Some bowed their heads as though bracing to receive a sentence.
Elin stood beside him. No words. No questions. Just looking forward.
"How many will fall?" she murmured, barely above a whisper — not a question, but a projection.
"Most of them," Arthian answered simply.
"And us?"
"We stand."
She did not ask again.
---
On an elevated platform, senior disciples of the Cascading Water Sect stood in a row. Robes clean. Expressions bored.
One man stepped forward.
He smiled — not a smile of welcome, but the smile of someone about to *cull.*
"The first test," he said, voice flat. "No scores. No questions."
He opened his palm.
Soul pressure radiated outward at once.
Not a wave. A *wall.*
The air thickened as though the entire world had been pressed down upon. The sound of cracking bones came from multiple directions simultaneously.
A large number of the applicants dropped to their knees almost as one.
Some cried out. Some coughed up blood. Some fell without making a sound.
This was not a test.
This was a *declaration of hierarchy.*
---
Arthian stood without moving.
He did not resist. Did not clash. Did not raise his power to meet it.
Instead — he let the pressure flow in.
The *Void Field* spread outward from him at a level so small it was nearly undetectable — not a domain, but a *paper-thin atmospheric layer.*
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
The incoming pressure was not reflected. Not pushed back.
It was *consumed.*
Silently. No collision. No tremor. Like snow falling onto bare earth without a sound.
Arthian controlled his breathing with care. The energy being absorbed was compressed at once — stored, hidden deep.
He did not stand because he was strong.
He stood because he was *empty.*
---
But beside him —
Elin began to tremble.
The pressure made no distinctions. It crushed everything that *existed.* The color drained from her face. Her lips quivered. Her knees visibly softened.
She was trying to stay upright. She did not cry out. She did not plead.
But it was too close.
Arthian saw.
And decided in a fraction of a second.
In the instant when the dust from the shattered ground scattered outward — in the sliver of a moment when the proctor's gaze was pulled toward the applicants collapsing in waves —
He reached out and touched Elin's arm.
*Lightly.* Almost imperceptible.
The *Void Field* branched into a small structural brace — not an enhancement of power, but a *redistribution of load.*
The pressure was still there. But it no longer bore down on the critical points.
Elin was still trembling, still breathing unevenly, still looking like someone on the verge of collapse.
But she did not fall.
---
She glanced at him slightly, eyes widening just a fraction.
But Arthian did not look back. His gaze was fixed straight ahead. His expression unchanged.
As though nothing had happened.
She kept her mouth shut. No questions. No words.
She simply held on.
---
From the outside — she was someone who had "held out far beyond expectation."
From the inside — Arthian knew he was adding to his own burden.
The pressure increased.
The Tier 1 proctor narrowed his eyes. His gaze stopped at a single point.
The point where the pressure *disappeared.*
He moved his fingers.
Another wave of pressure drove down — heavier than before. Targeted and precise.
The stone beneath Arthian's feet began to fracture. Cracks spread outward like a web.
The applicants nearby had all fallen. Only a handful were still forcing themselves to stand.
And one of them — should not have been able to.
---
Arthian felt the pressure double. The compressed energy inside him trembled, nearing the point of fracture.
He did not move.
Not as a challenge. But because if he fell — the structural brace around Elin would disappear at once.
He chose *not to fall.*
The muscles throughout his body began sending warnings. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
But he swallowed it down.
---
A few breaths passed — but felt like a lifetime.
At last, the pressure was withdrawn.
The testing ground fell quiet. Only the sound of ragged breathing from those who had survived.
The sound of fallen bodies all around — some unconscious, some on their knees and unable to rise.
The proctor smiled.
This time it was not contempt. It was *interest.*
"Enough."
He turned to an assistant.
"Record the names."
---
Arthian released the *Void Field* back to its dormant state slowly. His legs nearly buckled — but he stayed upright.
Elin stood beside him, trembling slightly. But she was still there.
She glanced briefly at his hand, at the spot where he had touched her arm, then turned her face forward without saying anything.
Only her breathing began to grow more even.
---
"Service disciples who have passed the test," the proctor announced, "are classified under 'bodies of exceptional endurance.'"
Murmuring rose.
Not in congratulation. In *suspicion.*
One of the senior disciples on the platform leaned toward a colleague and spoke low — quiet, but audible in the stillness.
"Look at that one... grey cloth, but stood through all of it."
"Could be luck."
"Luck doesn't crack the ground without the person falling."
Both went silent.
---
Arthian heard every word.
But he did not turn to look.
*I didn't fall. And that... means I no longer blend in.*
He knew himself clearly.
This small victory had been bought with something invisible.
There were more eyes on him now.
---
The proctor stepped down from the platform and walked through the applicants strewn across the ground.
Before stopping directly in front of Arthian.
"You."
"Sir?" Arthian replied, even-toned.
"What's your name?"
"Aten, sir."
The proctor looked him over from head to foot, then laughed softly.
"Aten..." He repeated the name, as though tasting it. "Sounds ordinary."
"I am an ordinary person, sir."
"Hmm..." The proctor nodded slowly. "But ordinary people don't stand like that."
"I was simply fortunate."
"Fortunate." The proctor repeated it. Then smiled. "Good... hold onto that word."
He leaned in and whispered close to Arthian's ear, voice so low no one else could catch it.
"The air around you is too clean for refuse."
Warm breath grazed the side of his ear.
"I'll be watching to see — here in this Water Sect dam —"
He smiled. Not warmly.
"How long you can keep yourself hidden."
---
The proctor walked away.
Leaving behind only dust, and a silence heavier than the pressure from moments before.
Elin stood beside him — she had not heard the whisper. But she saw the change in Arthian's eyes.
"Are you alright?" she asked quietly.
"Fine."
"What did he say?"
Arthian was quiet for a moment, then answered.
"He said we can't hide for long."
Elin frowned. "Then what do we do?"
"Keep hiding." He answered simply. "Until the time comes when we don't have to."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then gave a small, wordless nod.
---
Arthian closed his eyes briefly.
He drew the turbulent energy back toward stillness. His hands clenched then released.
*The sect's game — they're already watching me.*
*And next time, the price to be paid won't merely be physical pain.*
---
*[ End of Episode 53 ]*
