Shadowblade:Rise of the Outcast

Chapter 1: Exile Children

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That day, Valir Village will celebrate the energy purification festival - annual celebrations in which every fifteen -year -old child will be tested: whether they have an energy core, cores that will determine their destiny in the cultivation world. 

For village children, that day was the beginning. But for Kael, it was the end of the remaining hope. 

He stood still behind the temple hall, avoiding the crowd. The shabby robe he was wearing almost torn on the edge, and the only skin belt inherited from his adopted father had begun to peel. His dark gray eyes stared flatly at the children who were cheering in the court, braging at each other they did not have. 

Orin, a temple guard who was as old as moss on a river stone, approached him slowly. 

"You came too," murmured Orin, his voice was hoarse but warm. 

Kael just nodded. He didn't know why he still came. Maybe just because of curious, or because of thin hopes that still depend on the end of his conscience - that maybe, this time, something will change. 

Orin watched Kael's face softly. The teenage face is too calm for someone who will face insult. 

"If you don't want to, don't have to go up to the stage," Orin whispered quietly. "I can say you're sick."

Kael took a deep breath. He looked at the sky - the sky that always looked the same, even when the world under him changed. 

"No, Uncle Orin. I will go up."

Orin sighed. His bending body looked smaller on the side of Kael, as if it indicated that the adult world was too narrow for painful truth. 

**

When the sun rises and the festival begins, the drums are beaten. The villagers arrived, gathered in the stone court with enthusiasm and hope. Full of color, full of prayer. The children stand lined up, each holding the test stone-a crystal one that will light up when touched by someone who has an energy core. 

Name after name is called. Every light that arises from the crystal is welcomed by cheers, hugs, and praise. Some were even immediately approached by elders to be marked as prospective sect students. 

And then, the name was called. 

"Kael."

Silent for a moment. The atmosphere that was originally boisterous suddenly was quiet. Some people glance at each other. A mother pulled her child backwards, as if Kael carried outbreaks. Even the crystal stones placed on the altar seemed reluctant to accept its touch. 

Kael stepped forward. His steps were great, even though his chest was turbulent. He could feel their gaze piercing his back like a thorn. The gaze he had known since childhood. Why are you still here? 

He looked at the crystal stone. His heart wanted to refuse. But he still pressed his palm slowly. 

There is no light. 

The stone died. Like it used to be. Like three years ago. Like every time he tries. 

Someone chuckled behind. Then the others follow. A moment later, the laughter turned into whispers, and finally-the scorn blast. 

"I thought! The exile child is still out of exile!"

"Why is he still coming? Find shame!"

"He doesn't have a core! Does he think today will be different?"

Kael pulled his hand slowly. He wants to make a sound, explain ... but what explains? That he tried? That he wants to be part of their world? 

No. This world has expelled him since he was born. 

Orin rushed up to the stage, standing between Kael and the crowd. His gaze was sharp, and even though his body was old, his voice still had authority. 

"Enough!"

The crowd subsides. But Kael already knew, the wound was already embedded. 

Calmly, he looked down at Orin, then stepped down from the stage without saying a word. He penetrated the crowd, refusing to look at anyone. Even when someone throws the skin of the fruit towards his back, he still stepped straight. 

**

Under an old tree on the west side of the village, Kael sat leaning off. His fingers squeezed the ground. His chest up and down, not because of anger, but because of feelings that were too dense to be named. 

The wind blows, flying the petals of dry flowers around it. 

"I already know," he murmured himself. 

He closed his eyes. In the darkness of his eyes, he saw the shadow of the past-the stretch that threw it in front of the village gate, the voices that said he was a bad child, and at night full of nightmares. 

"I already know ... but why is it still sick?" he whispered softly. 

Orin stood not far behind him. He did not interrupt. Just silent, standing in a silence full of meaning. 

After a long time, Orin spoke softly. "You're not a worthless child, Kael."

Kael turned around. His eyes were wet, but he didn't cry. 

"I am a nobody."

"You're different. Not that you don't have value."

Kael laughed shortly, bitterly. "Different? In this place, it means discarded."

Orin looked at the sky. "Sometimes, something that is not found in this place ... is waiting to be found elsewhere."

Kael looked at the old man. For the first time that day, his heart warmed a little. 

"You mean uncle?"

Orin did not answer directly. He looked down, then handed over a small object wrapped in a worn cloth. Kael opened it slowly. A small stone, black, not sparkling. But it feels warm in hand. 

"It was found with you when you were thrown into the village gate. I kept it. I thought, maybe one day, you need a reminder ... that you don't belong to this place. But maybe, another place is looking for you."

Kael looked at the stone. Not radiant, but feels ... alive. 

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