Sky Above the Starforge Nexus
As whispers of Zaxton's success spread, fate answered with silence… then thunder.
A week before the second trial could begin, darkness swallowed the upper skies above Mt. Fai. A tribulation, long overdue, crashed down upon him — summoned by the cosmic disturbance his cultivation had become.
This was not just a tribulation.
This was a test of domain-level authority — the kind only faced by those who dared challenge the order of realms.
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⚡ The 9-Fold Heavenquake Tribulation
It came in nine layers, each more violent than the last:
1. The Skyquake Roar – Shattering winds threatened to peel the mountain from the ground.
2. The Bone Shiver Frost – Icy breath from the void tried to still his lifeforce.
3. The Flame of Memory – Zaxton relived his worst failures, doubts, and fears in burning visions.
4. The Beast Tide – Spiritual echoes of every beast he'd tamed rose against him.
5. The False Heaven – An illusion of ultimate peace tempted him to lay down arms.
6. The Mirror Strike – He fought himself: ambition vs. duty.
7. The Starfall Spear – Constellations hurled shards of light at his soul core.
8. The Thunder Reversal – Lightning that healed, then harmed, tested his resilience.
9. The Final Pulse – His dragon, Jin Sori, and even Mt. Fai itself called out to him — and he had to answer with his entire essence.
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🌠 His Breakthrough
On the final strike, Zaxton stood unmoving — bloodied, cloaked in divine lightning, eyes burning with absolute clarity.
Then… silence.
The tribulation dispersed like vapor before the sun. Above him, stars aligned around the Starforge Nexus in a perfect spiral.
Zaxton had ascended.
He now stood at a level unseen in the Third Realm since the original formation of the Moons — a Sovereign Ascendant, walking the boundary of divinity.
The Moons took notice.
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🌑 Lunar Trial Two: The Skybone Accord
The Moons called upon Zaxton immediately — his triumph marking him worthy to mediate a conflict that had festered for centuries.
The Dispute:
The Moon of Storm, a volatile mistress of weather-based cultivation, controlled all aerial and sea-bound routes in the Eastern Skies.
The Moon of Bone, a terrifying master of necro-astral arts, claimed dominion over drifting sky cemeteries — ancient remains of civilizations long dead.
Their borders clashed in the skies over a region called Cradle's End, a place of constant storm and restless spirits.
> "I will not yield to bones." – Moon of Storm
"I do not bend to wind and salt." – Moon of Bone
Countless sects, traders, and sky-tribes were caught in the crossfire. The realm itself wept storms of bone-laced rain.
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Zaxton's Resolution
He traveled to Cradle's End, but did not speak. Instead, he:
Raised his hand and summoned a storm spirit and a wraith elder, letting them clash — and then merge.
Formed a new spiritual energy: Tempestshade Essence, neither wholly life nor death.
He placed a floating sky-altar at the conflict's heart, calling it the Covenant Spire.
Carved a law into the clouds themselves:
> "Where storm meets silence, balance shall reign. No Moon owns Cradle's End. All are watched."
Then he took a drop of his own blood, infused with his new cultivation, and sealed it within the Covenant Spire. The land calmed instantly.
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The Moons' Response
The Moon of Storm bowed.
The Moon of Bone did not kneel, but spoke:
> "I have seen many who rise fast… and fall faster. But you, Zaxton, may be the one we were meant to follow. You hold death and storm like old friends."
Zaxton said only:
> "I hold the realm."
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🌙 Lunar Trial Two: Complete.
He returned to Mt. Fai with little fanfare. But the Third Realm knew.
A second trial passed.
A second time he had not only succeeded — but changed the nature of the realm in doing so.
The 13th Pillar had begun to cast a shadow.
Lunar Trial Three: The Diplomacy and Awakening of the Moonless Wastes
📍 Prelude: The Shadow No Moon Claims
Of all the territories in the Third Realm, one region remained unclaimed by the Moons — not by choice, but by dread.
The Moonless Wastes.
An endless, hollow expanse at the far north of the realm, where stars refused to shine and the air itself whispered forgotten names. No sect survived long there. Cultivation techniques twisted. Time fractured. Even divine beasts avoided its border.
The Moons whispered of a time before memory, before order — when the Wastes were the source of all cultivation... and the graveyard of gods.
No Moon dared govern it. None had returned whole.
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⚖️ The Request
And yet, the Moons now turned to Zaxton.
> "It is time," said the Moon of Sight.
"The Wastes stir," said the Moon of Silence.
"If you would rise as the Thirteenth, you must walk where we fear to stand."
His task:
Enter the Moonless Wastes.
Establish first diplomatic contact with whatever still lived, if anything.
If nothing remains... ensure it stays that way.
They offered no help, only a single object: a crystalline map forged from the will of all Twelve Moons — known as the Lunarch Compass, it pointed not north, but to what must be known.
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🌌 The Journey Begins
Zaxton departed alone, though his dragon soared high above him, always near. The Seven Sovereigns remained behind, ordered to protect Mt. Fai and Don Divine Gate. Jin stayed at the ready to respond if the realm itself trembled.
Across frigid plains and endless black dunes, Zaxton traveled. His breath fogged into silver strands. Each step echoed backward — he could hear past versions of himself calling out in warning.
> "You must not wake what dreams beneath..."
He pressed forward.
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🕳️ Awakening the Dead Light
In the center of the Wastes, Zaxton found it:
A spiraling crater of obsidian light. Floating above it — an eye, shut, sealed in orbit by chains of light older than time. Around it, monuments bearing ancient inscriptions — not in writing, but in raw memory.
As Zaxton approached, the eye opened.
And in that moment, the realm changed.
Stars vanished.
Moons flickered.
Insects stopped chirping.
Cultivators throughout the Third Realm felt a drop of fear… for the first time in decades.
> "You are not Moon," a voice said. "You are Forge-born. Breath-touched. Flame-keeper."
"Why do you disturb my Sleep of Waiting?"
Zaxton did not answer with fear. He answered with his truth:
> "Because I must know. And because I will protect. Even from you."
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🌠 The Pact of the Hollow Star
Rather than battle, the being — calling itself the Hollow Star — tested Zaxton with visions, illusions, and questions. It demanded:
"Would you burn your dragon to save the sky?"
"Would you kill your son to preserve your name?"
"Would you sacrifice your home to protect your truth?"
Zaxton answered each without flinching. And in return, the Hollow Star whispered:
> "Then I remember who we once were."
It explained that it was a Pre-Moon Entity, a being of the Astral Era, when all cultivation was chaos, when the concept of "realm" did not yet exist.
The Wastes were its prison — not for crimes, but for being too vast to govern.
It offered Zaxton a pact.
> "Form the Thirteenth Moon not above... but within.
Make this Wasteland your proving ground.
Teach the stars to sing again."
Zaxton accepted.
The Wastes shuddered, and from its heart, twelve obelisks rose — mirrors of the Moon Pillars, etched in ancient glyphs.
Zaxton raised his sword, and drove it into the earth.
The Moonless Wastes gained a name:
The Hollowlight Dominion.
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🌕 Lunar Trial Three: Complete
When Zaxton returned to the Circle of Moons, not one of the Twelve spoke. Instead, they stood — and one by one, each pillar of power bowed their heads.
> "The Moonless Wastes are no more," said the Moon of Time.
"They have become... yours."
From this day forward, Zaxton was no longer "the rising star".
He was Zaxton, Lord of Hollowlight, and Rightful Heir to the Thirteenth Moon.
But the Hollow Star whispered one final truth before it slept again:
> "Even I fear... what lies beneath the Third Realm."