427: Temple Spirit 427: Temple Spirit “Who?!” Max shouted instinctively, his body spinning around in full alert.
His eyes narrowed sharply, and in the dense, swirling grey mist that hung like a blanket over the eerie world, he saw them—two narrow, glowing red eyes watching him silently from within the fog.
They floated there, unmoving, fixed on him with a gaze that felt ancient and unblinking.
“What?!” Max gasped, instinctively retreating several steps back, his footing cautious but urgent as he readied himself for whatever entity this was.
The pressure he’d just endured still echoed in his bones, and now this?
Before he could brace for a fight, a deep voice echoed through the mist—calm, powerful, and oddly emotionless.
“Do not fear , human,” the voice said, not with malice, but with the undeniable authority of sothing that had existed far longer than him.
Max’s eyes remained cautious, but his breath steadied.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice firm despite the lingering unease.
“I am the spirit bound to this tower,” the voice replied, the red eyes still hovering in the mist like two burning stars.
“I am the one who oversees every trial, every floor, every path.
I am the will of the Tower of Truth.” Max’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t let it show.
Now that he knew what he was facing, his mind cald.
He wasn’t dealing with an enemy—but a test, a force of judgnt.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice composed now, eyes sharp and ready.
The red eyes blinked slowly, and the mist seed to ripple as the voice answered.
“Your talent… is the greatest I have witnessed in the million years I have presided over this tower,” it said with a strange reverence.
“You have surpassed every trial.
You have endured the tests of body, mind, and law.
But…” the voice paused, its tone shifting slightly.
“But?” Max pressed, his brow furrowing as he stepped forward.
“But I have yet to see the limits of your talent,” the spirit replied, its voice heavier now.
“Even now, I cannot determine where your potential ends—if it ends at all.
And because of that, I cannot accurately judge where your place should be among the legends of this world.
You have passed all that was required… but you have not yet revealed your peak.” Max’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued, his heart starting to thump again—but this ti, it wasn’t fear.
It was interest.
“There are more tests,” the spirit continued, its voice rumbling like thunder behind clouds.
“Optional.
Dangerous.
Not designed for those who rely wish to pass—but for those who wish to ascend.
I am asking you… not commanding… to take them.” “Oh?
More tests?” Max’s eyes glead with interest, his exhaustion montarily forgotten as intrigue took root in his mind.
A subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Would these tests co with… additional rewards?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, voice casual but eyes sharp with curiosity.
“It depends on your performance,” the voice answered, steady and neutral, yet not without a trace of ancient pride.
“But yes, rewards are possible.
However, I must warn you… these tests will not be ordinary.
They are dangerous.
Extrely so.
Because the trials you are about to face have never been unlocked by anyone else in the history of this tower.” The red eyes in the mist glowed faintly brighter as it continued.
“You, Max Voidwalker, will be the first.” Max’s expression turned more serious, his brows drawing slightly together as he absorbed the weight of those words.
The idea that no one—not even the legendary nas etched into the top of the pillar—had reached this point stirred sothing deep within him.
“The one who built this tower… he created it to assess talent,” the voice continued, tone shifting slightly, as if revealing sothing personal.
“He wished to find beings of exceptional potential, even in this tiny, remote world, tucked away in the far corners of the mortal realms.
It was not for conquest.
It was for refinent—of his mind, and of others.” Max frowned, a flicker of suspicion forming behind his sharp gaze.
“Wait,” he said slowly, the na slipping from his mouth like a question wrapped in caution.
“Do you… do you happen to know what race the original owner of this tower belonged to?” “Of course I know,” the voice answered smoothly, with no hesitation.
“Primordial Race.
That was the race of my master.” “Primordial Race?” Max repeated under his breath, his frown deepening.
He searched his mory but ca up blank.
He had never heard of such a race—not in the Lower Domain, not in the countless histories or tos he had skimd through.
Could it be a race so ancient, so distant, that their na had long faded from all records?
Or a race existing in the Middle Domain?
“Don’t waste your thoughts over it,” the spirit said, clearly reading the confusion on Max’s face.
“Just know this—Primordial is not a title you earn.
It is what you are.
And the Primordial Race… is one of the strongest in all of reality.” The weight of those words fell on Max like a stone, sinking into his mind.
He didn’t ask further.
He didn’t need to.
The voice continued.
“Now that your questions have been answered… the test shall begin soon.” And with that final declaration, the grey mist around Max began to shift and dissolve like a vanishing illusion.
Slowly, the air cleared, revealing a new figure standing a short distance before him.
It was human in shape, wielding a sword—silent, still—but its features were completely masked, blurred by a fog-like distortion that clung to it like armor.
It was neither male nor female, neither old nor young.
Just a presence.
A challenge.
“This is the soul mark of a dead warrior.
You will have to defeat him,” the voice echoed calmly, as if it were announcing sothing as mundane as a training session.
Max’s gaze remained locked on the mist-wreathed figure ahead, unmoving, faceless, yet sohow exuding a silent, overwhelming presence that made the air feel heavy.
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS ShinGotLost Your gift is the motivation for my creation.
Give more motivation!
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