My Infinite Cultivation System-Chapter 98: Change in the trial

Alex forced his breathing to remain even, although the tremor in his fingers betrayed the strain he was under. He kept his gaze fixed forward, refusing to let the pressure of the moment bend his posture.

"Yes," Alex said, his voice steady despite the tension in his body.

A faint ripple passed through the void around him, as if reality itself acknowledged his decision. The system responded instantly.

[Ding! Host’s level is too low. Host must reach Level 73 or advance their soul to the Planetary Realm to merge talents of this grade.]

The notification struck him harder than any physical blow. The faint anticipation in his eyes froze, then slowly dimmed. The sense of victory he had felt moments earlier dissolved, replaced by a quiet, heavy understanding.

He had reached too far.

He became frustrated suddenly.

However, the frustration did not last long.

Alex lowered his gaze slightly, absorbing the meaning behind the restriction. His soul had grown recently. The expansion had been significant enough that even he had felt the difference. His perception had sharpened, his control had deepened, and his resistance to pressure had improved. Yet despite all of that, he was still fundamentally limited.

Genesis Grade talents were not ordinary abilities. They were forces that existed at the edge of creation itself. Such talents were not merely powerful. They altered balance, redefined boundaries, and imposed their will upon reality. Trying to merge one into a vessel that had not yet matured would be like forcing an ocean into a narrow river.

It was not simply dangerous. It was impossible.

Alex inhaled slowly and exhaled just as carefully. The disappointment settled, then gradually transformed into something calmer and more focused.

This was not rejection. This was a requirement.

Level seventy three or Planetary soul. Two clear milestones.

He lifted his head again. The faint shadow on his expression disappeared, replaced by a composed determination.

When that time came, the power waiting for him would not be restrained. He would not need to negotiate with limits. He would take it completely, without compromise.

"I want to challenge Merlin the Sage’s trial," he said.

His voice traveled across the silent courtyard, echoing faintly between the statues. The declaration carried no hesitation. He had already made his choice.

[You have chosen Merlin’s trial.]

The air shifted.

It was subtle at first. The statues surrounding him seemed to grow heavier, as if their presence intensified. The space between them stretched slightly, and the light above dimmed by a fraction. Alex felt the change immediately. Something deeper than ordinary teleportation was unfolding.

A brief pause followed.

Then another message appeared.

[Something has changed.]

Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly. That line had not appeared during the earlier trials he had reviewed. This was different.

[You are being sent to an inter dimentional battlefield. If you can earn fame upon that battlefield, you will be chosen as the seventh disciple of Merlin the Sage.]

The wording was calm, but the implication was clear. This was not a controlled trial. This was not a contained illusion designed to measure technique. This was an open battlefield.

[ Dying on this battlefield may result in true death. Do you still wish to challenge? ]

The final line appeared slowly, as if giving him time to reconsider.

True death.

The words carried weight. This was not a simulation. There would be no safe failure, no return to the courtyard with wounds restored. If he died there, the consequence would extend beyond the trial.

Alex’s jaw tightened slightly.

He had faced danger before. He had taken risks that others would not. Yet this was different. The system itself was issuing a warning. That meant the battlefield existed beyond the normal protective boundaries of the trial realm.

He did not retreat.

"Yes," Alex answered.

The response came without pause.

[You are being teleported.]

The statues vanished first. Their towering forms dissolved like reflections breaking on disturbed water. The courtyard followed, its stone floor fragmenting into threads of light. The sky collapsed inward, folding into itself.

Reality compressed.

For a brief moment, Alex felt as if he existed in an undefined space. There was no ground beneath him, no sky above him, and no direction that could be identified. Layers of pressure moved past him, not crushing but reshaping the environment around him. The sensation was neither cold nor warm. It was simply absence.

Then the process ended.

Alex opened his eyes.

He stood in a vast field that stretched beyond ordinary perception. The grass beneath his feet shimmered faintly, each blade reflecting both light and shadow at the same time. The terrain rolled gently toward distant horizons that curved in ways that defied geometric logic.

The sky above him was unfamiliar. Bands of color overlapped one another, forming gradients he could not properly define. Stars hung in patterns that appeared structured, yet the longer he observed them, the more his mind resisted understanding their arrangement.

This place carried weight.

Alex sensed it immediately. The air felt dense, filled with remnants of countless clashes. A faint metallic taste lingered at the back of his throat, as if the atmosphere itself had absorbed bloodshed over long periods of time.

This was a battlefield.

He did not need confirmation. The distant rumble, barely audible, suggested movement far beyond his current vision. The ground beneath him seemed stable, yet he could feel vibrations passing through it, subtle but constant.

This was not an empty space. This was a stage where conflict had already begun.

"Young man."

The voice entered his mind directly.

It did not travel through the air. It did not echo. It appeared inside his consciousness, clear and controlled. The tone was ancient, but it did not carry fatigue. Instead, it felt sharp, deliberate, and observant.

Alex straightened instinctively. His posture became firm, his focus narrowing toward the unseen speaker. The pressure accompanying the voice was immense, yet it was not oppressive. It felt measured, as if the speaker intentionally limited their presence.

He understood immediately.

The trial had begun.

Far away, within the forest of statues, the six disciples stood motionless.

The space where Alex had stood moments earlier was now completely empty. The faint distortion left by the teleportation gradually faded, leaving behind only silence.

Varian broke the quiet first. His expression, usually controlled, showed visible surprise.

"Did Master intervene just now?" he asked slowly. "I felt his authority. The teleportation changed midway. That was not part of the standard process."

Seraphina nodded, her gaze still fixed on the empty space. "He certainly did. The shift was too precise to be accidental. The trial was altered after the boy made his choice."

Another disciple frowned slightly, processing the implications. Their master’s intervention was not a trivial matter. Trials were designed long in advance. Direct involvement meant something unusual had occurred.

"It seems Master is watching him," Seraphina continued. "That alone is significant."

Her earlier evaluation of Alex had been cautious. Now, however, her expression showed genuine curiosity. Over long years, she had observed many candidates attempt these trials. Few had drawn personal attention.

"Let’s contact Big Brother," she added. "If anyone understands what just happened, it would be him."

The others exchanged brief glances. No one disagreed.

Their master rarely intervened directly. When he did, it meant the situation had shifted beyond normal expectations. The trial Alex had entered was no longer a routine evaluation.

Varian folded his arms, still watching the space thoughtfully. "He chose the battlefield without hesitation. Even after the warning."

"That alone is not enough," another disciple replied. "Many have chosen difficult paths. Few have survived them."