NOVEL NEXT Chapter 441: The Sanctum Opens
None of them knew the real reason Shaw Zilo had ballooned into his current bloated state—Uncle Jed had, in their last encounter, permanently relieved him of certain male functionalities.
The humiliation had driven Shaw straight into the bottomless comfort of binge-eating.
'Pathetic', Ethan—thought, flicking a watermelon seed off his thumb. The rind followed, splattering across the Windspirit Faction's immaculate training grounds like a slap.
"Smart move, Beastfall City," sneered the loudmouth disciple from earlier—the one called Eamon. Ethan recognized him now: Eamon Galewright, heir to the Windspirit Faction.
"Sending no one this year. Otherwise we'd have added more corpses to the Blood Rite Sanctum's collection," Eamon added with a grin.
Every Sacred Assembly, the same story. The sanctum's trials chewed up participants, spat out bones. Beastfall's warriors? They might as well march in with nooses pre-tied.
Ethan yawned. "Yap all you want. But the show's starting."
Above them, the Sigil of the Wild Legion wobbled its way skyward like a drunk pigeon. Sweat beaded on Ethan's forehead for effect. This was his plan. He wanted them to think he could barely lift the damn thing.
The crowd's eyes darted between the seal, Ethan, and the burning stick marking the time. Half a finger's width left. Murmurs rippled:
"Look at him shake! Even a rookie shouldn't fumble a City Seal this badly—"
"All that earlier bravado… Watch him miss the deadline—"
Uncle Jed coughed into his sleeve, hiding a smirk. He'd figured out the act the moment they'd scaled Hurricane City's peak. Ethan had let Red Widow haul him up by the collar like dead weight. Why? Simple. If these kids knew he'd already reached War God-rank—if they sensed the power thrumming under his skin—they'd bolt the second the sanctum's gates opened.
Just then, the burning stick crumbled to ash.
Right on cue, the Sigil slotted into place beside the other three City Seals. A boom shook the earth. The sky split—a jagged maw of swirling mist—before stabilizing into a shimmering portal.
Fifty pillars of light lanced down, painting the plaza in gold. Through the rift, a vibrant forest sprawled: rivers ribboning through emerald canopies, flocks of startled birds taking flight. Gasps erupted:
"That's… actual green!"
"And flowing water! No filters, no holograms—"
"If we could stay…"
"Don't be stupid. The sanctum spits everyone out when due"
Ethan rolled his shoulders. "Ugh. Exhausting." He staggered—oh so dramatically—toward the nearest light beam. "Well? Try not to die too fast. I'll be inside… waiting."
The beam swallowed him whole and for a moment, silence prevailed. Then—
"What? Beastfall's sending someone? Their Lord?!"
"That arrogant bastard can't even control his seal! He's dead—"
Eamon's laughter cut through the chaos. "Oh, this is perfect." Three days ago, Astrid of the Golden Falcons had dragged herself into Hurricane City, bleeding out from wounds no healer could fix. Her last words before passing out had been for him alone. Now? Fate had handed him Ethan on a silver platter.
Eamon Galewright had been obsessed with Astrid for years. When she'd staggered into Hurricane City three days ago—bleeding, broken, her Golden Falcon wings torn to shreds—he'd nearly lost his mind. He'd ordered the best healers, the rarest elixirs, even held her hand like some lovesick squire.
And when she finally woke, she'd whispered the truth:
The new Beastfall City Lord had slaughtered their tribes.
Not just hers. Several pure-blooded beast clans—wiped out. The Golden Falcons. The Blazefire Lions. Even the Earthsplitter Rhinos. All gone, their cores ripped out, their ancestral lands scorched to ash.
"Kill him," she'd begged, her fingers digging into Eamon's wrist. "Kill Ethan, and I'll give you anything."
Anything. The word had coiled in his gut like molten promise. He'd agreed before she finished speaking.
Which explained why he'd been taunting Beastfall's delegation earlier—testing the waters, savoring the hunt. His original plan? Wait for the Assembly to end, then ambush Ethan on the road back to Beastfall.
But now?
The idiot had walked straight into the Blood Rite Sanctum.
Eamon's lips split into a grin. This was a god sent opportunity. Slit Ethan's throat inside the trial grounds, drag his head back to Astrid, and claim his reward. No politics. No witnesses. Just a blade in the dark and a night of unfiltered gratitude.
He lunged for the nearest light beam.
"Wait, Eamon!" A gangly figure scrambled after him—Baleron, son of Hurricane City's deputy Lord and the most persistent sycophant this side of the Iron Mountains. "Let me help you gut the bastard!"
Two beams flickered out as they vanished into the rift.
Forty-seven pillars remained.
"Move!" barked the city lords. The portal would stay open for seven days, but the entry beams? They'd vanish in sixty seconds.
Also, only those under thirty could enter—and only if they could fly under the sanctum's Anti-Flight barrier. A near-impossible feat unless you'd already hit War God-rank.
The three factions surged forward. Clearspring City sent ten. The Forgotten, another ten. Hurricane, thirteen—fifteen if you counted Eamon and Baleron's early departure.
Bodies blurred as they claimed the beams.
Then—
A streak of gold cut through the chaos as a figure disappeared along with a beam.
Auren Galewright, Hurricane's lord, stiffened. "Was that—?"
"The Golden Falcon girl from your son's chambers," confirmed an elder. "Astrid. But… she was bedridden this morning. Weak. Barely conscious."
Auren's grip crushed the armrest of his throne. "Phoenix Rebirth."
The elder's eyes lit up. "The legendary—?"
Auren nodded. That little bitch played us. She'd been healing too fast. If she'd unlocked the ancient bloodline's power…
"Capture her when she exits," Auren hissed. "Eamon takes her maiden blood. That true phoenix essence will make him unstoppable."
---
Meanwhile, the unclaimed beams dwindled—thirteen left.
Shaw Zilo's voice boomed: "Standard protocols to be observed, last slots go to whoever grabs them."
Auren grunted. Baelor Wane nodded. Neither glanced at Beastfall's remaining delegation.
The decision took three seconds.
Then, chaos erupted.
A hundred fighters lunged for the beams. Elite disciples. Mercenaries. Even a few rogue Energy Users who'd slipped past security.
Blades flashed. Someone's elbow cracked a jaw, as bodies were instantly being flung overhead like rag dolls .