Read Reincarnation of The Fallen Prince :: Chapter 2 — The Initiation

Azreal forces himself to blink a few times while adjusting to his new environment. As his eyes return to normality, he finds himself standing under the scorching sun on a vast, barren plain of packed dirt. A massive forest not too far from his location, with a small mountaintop peeking above the treeline. The heat bears down with an intensity Azreal has never experienced before. Spending most of his life inside does not prepare one for harsh conditions. The heat from the sun causes beads of sweat to instantly form on his brow and run down his back.

As he begins to adjust, he notices that he is not alone—far from it. He stands amidst a seemingly endless sea of people, thousands upon thousands of other young men and women dressed identically. The outfit worn by Azreal and the others is simple in design: white robes tied with a length of cloth at the waist. The noise of the teeming crowd washes over him like crashing waves. Azreal has never been one for crowds in his previous life; the chance of someone accidentally walking into him and damaging his body is too high for his liking.

'Are all these people players like me?' Azreal wonders, heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and excitement. 'They must be, right?'

Azreal reaches out and taps a nearby man’s shoulder, his eyes widening in shock. His once frail, bony hand now appears robust and brimming with vitality. The man turns to face him with anger burning in his eyes. "Hey, are you a player too? First time in this game?" Azreal's voice comes out far deeper and more self-assured than his usual timid rasp, startling even himself.

"A player? I have no idea what you're talking about. I am here to take the Entrance Exam for the Heavenly Root Sect. How dare you touch me, weakling!" the young man spits, contempt lacing his words. After giving Azreal a disdainful once-over, the arrogant youth sneers. "What's a pitiful, talentless runt like you even doing here? I can't sense an ounce of cultivation in your qi."

The demeaning words strike Azreal like a dagger through the heart, causing his face to flush, a heavy feeling of humiliation creeping into his heart. The familiar sting of being mocked is all too familiar to Azreal. ‘Fuck this! I will not be spoken to like this by anybody who is in the exact same situation as me!’ Azreal screams internally, feeling his own heart rate soar in anticipation of finally standing up for himself. He clenches his hands, this time with the intention to strike another, instead of himself. As Azreal raises his arm, a thunderous voice booms across the plain, disrupting his action and causing every person present to become silent and turn in the direction of the voice.

"Attention, Everyone! Welcome to the entrance examination!"

Atop a wooden podium, three regal figures stand, their ethereal presences demanding reverence. An old man, whose figure radiates strength and dominance, is clad in all black robes with golden trim, and on the front of his robe is an etching of a golden tree encircled by a weave of a serpent eating its own tail. The old man has no hair on top of his head but sports a very long grey wispy beard, which he twists with his left hand while his right is placed behind his back.

The old man takes a step forward and his voice begins to boom again, "I am elated to see all of you potential disciples. I apologise for the long walk here!" A gruff laugh is the only sound that can be heard.

"As you all should know, this is the entrance exam for the Heavenly Root Sect. We at the Heavenly Root Sect strive to find the best youths between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five years to forge them into truly powerful cultivators," he continues, letting these words hang in the air whilst scanning the crowd with his midnight-black eyes.

"I can see now that we have a very talented group of participants this year. Some of you will have experience and have cultivated your foundation. Congratulations for being born into a better family than those who have come here without a foundation. Having a foundation at this point is not a sign of talent, but a sign of your family's hard work. Remember these words, potential disciples, your parents' hard work is not your own. Those whose egos have become so large due to their family name will meet a swift end on the path of cultivation!" His voice feels like it attacks every single person standing at attention.

"There will be over half of you with no foundation and find themselves with a very difficult task ahead of you... I wish to let everyone know that the entrance exam is unfair, painful, and very lethal. For those who have no cultivation base, there will be a seventy percent mortality rate, compared to a twenty percent mortality rate for those with a foundation established. If you wish to back out of this Entrance Examination, now is the time. You will risk your life during this trial, those of you with weak will, poor talent, and lacklustre determination, only death awaits."

His voice has power imbued into each word, ensuring each person present clearly hears his words and understands the severity of the situation. Azreal urges his nervous heart to calm down, ‘I won’t back down! I will become a part of this Sect; there is no failure here!’

A loud thud is all that Azreal hears as he turns his head to see the previously arrogant young man lying on the floor, crying and having soiled his robes. Before Azreal can react properly, he hears the same sound on his other side and turns to see a young lady a few feet from him, curled up into a ball, crying and screaming for help.

‘What is happening?’Azreals thoughts racing as he attempts to find a logical solution.

Five minutes pass in a flash as more people begin to fall unconscious, or crying in fear. As Azreal becomes increasingly confused, the older man on the podium begins to speak. "Congratulations on passing the first trial. I imbued my words with a sliver of my soul power, enough that even those with a foundation would have their greatest fears play out before their eyes."

A small gesture from his hand is all it takes for all the unconscious or those paralysed by fear to be removed from the dirt field. ‘Over half the people have failed already, what in the world is happening? Why didn’t I feel anything or see anything?’ Azreal questions.

"For those of you who passed this point with no cultivation foundation, you will now be given a cultivation method, one of our Sect's most basic. You will have a day to understand the basics, form your base, and reach the first level of Martial Adept. From the moment your foundation is established, you will have two days to reach the mountain. For those of you with existing cultivation bases, you may begin your adventure through the forest to the mountain now. Your every action will be watched and evaluated; we will not interfere no matter the circumstances. Do your best, young ones; your future depends on it." The old man and two Elders of the Sect make their move towards those without cultivation foundations.

Azreal glances at the small mountaintop he can see in the distance but can't determine the distance as a thick forest obscures his view. ‘How in the ever-living fuck am I meant to get there in two days?' Azreal curses internally.

A small wooden slate is handed to Azreal by the beautiful woman who was on top of the podium a mere second before. Azreal reaches his hand towards the wooden slate before quickly stopping. He notices a small window that you would usually see in video games.

<....>

<..........>

<Name: Azreal>

<Title: The Fallen Prince>

<Bloodline: Unknown>

<Physique: Unknown>

<Legacy: Unknown>

<Abilities: Unknown>

<Strength:10>

<Vitality:10>

<Dexterity: 10>

<Intelligence: 25>

<Spirit:20>

<Equipment: Trial disciple robes of the Heavenly Root Sect>

'Why is everything coming up as unknown? Is it because I simply don't have any abilities? Or is my game faulty?' Azreal thought to himself.

Azreal sees his title. 'The Fallen Prince? That's a fancy title; I wonder what it means. Why do I get the feeling someone used to call me by that name, I am sure no one has ever called me that before?' Azreal wonders while trying to make sense of what he is seeing, the game booklet he read said nothing of a system like this. ‘System, are you broken?’ Azreal questions internally.

Azreal nods his head and moves his eyes back toward the wooden slate in his hands. 'I am unsure what to do with this...' As Azreal begins to try and read the words inscribed on the slate, a small ball of white energy bursts from the wooden slate and shoots straight towards Azreal. He is startled and too slow to react to the ball of energy, soon he finds his mind flooded with information.

A notification appeared in Azreal’s vision directly in his vision.

<Master, this technique is terrible and will not serve well as a foundation for someone as great as you! Here, please use this technique. I was explicitly told by my creator that you will need this technique to create a cultivation base worthy of the future you deserve.>

A few moments pass, and Azreal feels a power beginning to circulate within himself.

<Ding!>

<You’ve just learned: Heaven's Exile Cultivation Technique>

<Rank: Celestial (Restricted)>

<Comprehension: Minuscule>

<Description: This technique is so heaven-defying that the last person who learned this technique was hunted down by immortals from each of the celestial heavens and brutally murdered. However, just before his death, he cast his will and cultivation into the universe and hid while waiting for the destined one to return and take up his mantle!>

Azreal almost coughs up blood when he reads the message. 'What an outrageous cultivation technique, and look at this description! I think the name of this cultivation method should be kept hidden; I should act like I've only comprehended the simple method provided.' Azreal is surprised as he can now immediately understand the technique on the wooden slate, which is named the Seedling Cultivation Method. A very low-level base, designed to be learnt quickly and overridden by the Sect once the participants of the entrance examination enter into the Sect.

Azreal sits in the lotus position, which feels very nostalgic and easy even though he has never practised this position before. Azreal then uses his new cultivation technique to circulate the qi in his body. It is a strange and warm sensation compared to the probing he had felt before. This feels much more welcoming and comfortable. As he cultivates, there is a tiny inkling of nostalgia in the back of his mind that he cannot quite place.

The qi inside his body begins to speed up, and his body becomes hotter and hotter. After a few minutes of this, suddenly it's like a dam bursts, and a large gust of wind spreads out from his location.

All those who are seated and concentrating immediately have their cultivation interrupted. All eyes stare at Azreal in disbelief. His long flowing hair flutters in the wind, and if you look closely, small particles of white and yellow light can be seen surrounding him.

<Ding!>

Azreal quickly checking his status window,

<Name: Azreal>

<Title: The Fallen Prince>

<Cultivation: Heaven's Exile>

<Comprehension: Minuscule>

<Strength:35>

<Vitality:20>

<Dexterity: 20>

<Intelligence: 35>

<Spirit:30>

Azreal’s eyes go wide with surprise after checking his new stats. ‘Every breakthrough increases my stats! How amazing!’ Azreal does an internal fist pump as his strength has increased massively with very little effort on his behalf.

Azreal is quickly brought out of his reverie; he can hear many voices as he slowly comes to after achieving a breakthrough.

“Wow! Who is that? That was so fast!” a young male disciple says. “Amazing! How did he understand the technique so quickly?” another disciple adds. “Is he blessed by the heavens?” questions another disciple.

Azreal looks up as he feels a presence standing before him, a beautiful woman who looks to be no older than mid-thirties stands a metre in front of Azreal. She has shoulder-length black hair which has light streaks of purple through it and deep purple eyes. “Congratulations, little one, that was incredibly fast. Are you sure you’ve never learned a technique before?” she eyes him curiously.

“N-no, of course not, Ma'am! I would never lie to you!” Azreal scrambles for an answer.

“Silly boy, I am not testing you; no need to be so nervous... I am very impressed. Now, even though you are quick to cultivate, you still have a long way through the forest to reach the mountain. And a little tip since you formed your foundation so quickly, it's not entirely safe inside the forest, so be very careful. Please call me Elder Juhee. I am not that much older than you, and being called Ma'am makes me feel rather old...” a teasing smile spreads across her face as she walks away.

Azreal stands up and dusts himself off before looking at those who remain on this dirt patch. Each person here has a determined look on their face after watching Azreal comprehend the technique so quickly. Azreal sighs as he notices that out of all the people who came here to undertake this test, only a mere twenty remain seated. That means out of the thousand who survived the soul attack from the old man, over 90% had an established cultivation base.

“Why are you still here? You are already behind a thousand disciples who had formed their base already!” shouts Elder Juhee, startling Azreal. He nods and begins to run towards the forest. His goal is to reach the mountain as quickly as he can.

At first, Azreal runs with trepidation, unsure of his new strength; he attempts to run very lightly but soon finds his body to be stronger than he can comprehend. It's like someone has turned the lights on for the first time in his life; the feeling of being fit and healthy overcomes Azreal. The joy he feels means he has no grasp on how fast he is running into a deadly trap that lies in wait for someone just like him.