The Eternal Dao Sect: Legacy of Chaos

The great halls of the Eternal Summit were filled with an ancient, almost godly atmosphere. Lighted by golden torches that danced with a mysterious flame, the carvings along the walls told tales about the century of sects, clans, and warriors who once shaped the fate of the continent. Now, the new generation stood at the heart of history. Rivals in so many ways to each other, the clans had unified under the growing threat of the Mellians. This was not a meeting of unity but of strength, alliances, and motives beneath it all. Everything in their world was like a chess game, and nothing more valuable could be asked of the young prodigies standing before their elders.

Standing as one in the middle of the grand hall, several dozen pairs of eyes weighed down upon Jayson and his friends. At his side, Jayson's sword loosely hung, its aura dancing light upon the air. Diane stood half a step behind him, her gaze piercing as it combed the hall for any sign of betrayal. Mike, to Cindy's right, wore his mask of calm well, though his shoulders were a little tight.

The elders sat on high chairs in a semicircle, representing some of the most powerful clans: Grayhair Clan, Styles Clan, Windflame Clan, and about another dozen. There was complete silence in the room, the tension thick between them despite the called truce. Everybody knew this was as much a meeting about the Mellian threat as it was a question of whose clan would be holding the most sway for the forthcoming years.

Step forward, chosen ones," boomed the deep voice of Elder Arthus of Grayhair Clan, his eyes gleaming beneath bushy brows.

The group stepped forward as one; the echo of their footsteps seemed to resound off the marble floor.

"Today," Elder Arthus continued, "we acknowledge the rising stars of this era. The Mellian threat is not just a danger to our world—it is a test, one that only the strong will survive. The fate of our world may well rest on the shoulders of those standing before us. But before we entrust them with such responsibility, we must be certain of their worth."

The elders murmured their assent, and the air grew thick as a faint pulse of energy began to leak into the room.

"This is the call to arms for the clans," said another, one elder from the Windflame Clan. "Not all of you are worthy, some proud, some must fall.

They exchanged a look. It was not to be more than a perfunctorial summons, yet already the stakes were being raised.

The words still echoed in his head, and Mike could feel the weight of many gazes upon him. Some curious, others condescending, a few hostile. He wasn't blind to the contempt most clans felt toward him, a commoner with no lineage, no noble blood. And his relationship with Cindy-one of the most promising heirs of the Styles Clan-just made him an object for resentment.

As the conjuration went on, attention fell abruptly upon Mike as a voice burst from behind the contingent of the Styles Clan.

"Enough of this mockery!"

The audience abruptly looked at him now-their target. Gabriel Styles stood tall and burly, his sharp facial features twisted as he strode forward. His scarlet-gold regalia spoke volumes about the depth of his bearing, with arrogance and pride, for this was one with the power of the House of Styles.

This is an affront to the Styles Clan," Gabriel snarled with venom. "That a commoner like him dares to stand beside my cousin is ridiculing enough, but to suggest he is worthy of representing us at this gathering? Preposterous!"

There was a stirring in the crowd.

Mike didn't respond immediately. He was as composed as ever, but Jayson, Diane, and the rest became tense. Cindy, however, stepped forward, her eyes ablaze with anger.

"Gabriel, stop!" she said, her voice firm and even. "Mike has proved himself more than worthy. His strength, his determination, and his heart are unmatched. You, of all people, have no right to question him.

Gabriel sneered, "Oh, Cindy, you've always been naive. Strength? Determination? Those mean nothing without lineage, without pedigree. You are blinded by foolish emotions."

Cindy took another step forward, her hand clenching on the hilt of her weapon. "Say one more word, Gabriel, and I'll—"

"Let him speak," Mike cut in, his voice calm but resolute. He laid a firm hand on Cindy's shoulder, drawing her back.

Gabriel laughed. "Oh, the commoner can speak. Well, then, Mike, tell me-something-do you feel out of place? Do you actually think you are good enough for her?"

The gaze of Mike met Gabriel's as he kept on with equanimity, his tone very plain. "Belief doesn't enter into it," he told him. "I've earned the right. If you or anyone else have a problem with that, then I don't back down.".

The smirk fell from Gabriel's face, replaced by a scowl. "Then prove it. Here and now. If you're as strong as you claim, then fight me. Prove your worth."

The hall fell silent. The elders exchanged glances, some intrigued, others disapproving.

"This is unnecessary," Elder Arthus said, his tone measured. "But if it will settle this dispute…

The air clotted, and in the center of the hall a circular arena appeared; the marble floor shifted, changing in a moment.

Mike stepped forward without any hesitations whatsoever; his gaze never left Gabriel's. Cindy looked on at him-her face a mask of concern-but said nothing to intervene. She knew he needed this, not for himself but their relationship.

Gabriel drew a shining sabre, tracing golden runes across its length, pulsing with energy. "You will regret this, commoner," he snarled.

Mike said nothing. He merely raised his hand, and a plain unornamented spear materialized in his grasp. The disparity between the two weapons couldn't have been greater, yet Mike showed no diffidence.

The fight began with a burst of energy as Gabriel lunged forward, his saber slashing through the air with incredible speed. Mike sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise. Gabriel attacked again and again, each strike more powerful than the last, but Mike dodged them all with almost unnatural grace.

"You're fast," Gabriel admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "But speed alone won't save you."

With another mighty roar, he suddenly brought out a power of golden saber waves that shot at Mike in a wave, like that of an unending tidal wave.

Mike planted his spear in the ground, channeling his energy into a barrier that absorbed the attack. The clash of energies sent shockwaves through the hall, but Mike remained steady.

Then counterattacked. In an instant, he had closed the gap between them; his spear was quick and sure. Gabriel blocked the first strike, barely, but the force of the blow sent him sliding backward.

The people who were watching the fight were doing so with their mouths hanging agape in utter silence. Mike was a beautiful balance of offence and defence, his control over the spear exemplary. And Gabriel, despite his apparently more sophisticated armament and moves, was falling back inch by inch.

"You underestimated him," Jayson muttered to Diane, faintly smiling.

Diane nodded. "He is not just fighting for himself. He's fighting for her.

At last, the fight reached its climax as Gabriel used his strongest technique-a burning, golden energy slash that would threaten to engulf everything around the area.

Not cowed, Mike summoned every last vestige of energy into his spear, thrusting it forward in a shout. Then, the two explosions of light and sound met in arguably the most dazzling fashion.

Until, finally, there he lay at last, Gabriel, with his saber broken off. Mike stood erect, his spear still in his hand, his face still tranquil.

The murmurs went bursting out again in the hall; the gaze that had given only disdain flared with respect and awe.

Cindy ran forward beside him and looked to him, pride shining in her eyes. "That was amazing," she whispered.

Mike smiled. "Told you, I don't go down.

Elder Arthus stepped forward, his voice conspicuous above the murmur. "Let that be a lesson to us all," he said. "Strength does not come from anywhere else but within a man, his lineage, or pedigree. Mike proved himself worthy, not only for this gathering but also to the respect of all clans."

The other elders nodded through the statement, to which even Gabriel could not disagree, though defeated.

As they left the arena, joined together and more powerful than ever, Jayson couldn't help but feel a sense of pride-more than just a group of warriors, a family.

But as they walked away, a shadow loomed in the distance. And the Mellians were coming-this was only just the beginning.

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