Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne-Chapter 57: Kaelis

"I, too, wish to challenge Calista"

The silence that followed those words seemed to swallow the air. People held their breath. Even the wind fell still. And he stood there. Simply... stood, in the center of the arena, wearing that same calm expression he had worn for years.

But inside, something was screaming.

Not from fear. But from something worse. Something quieter and far more painful.

"I said it," he whispered to himself. "There’s no turning back now."

***

It was the Awakening Courtyard.

A few decades ago

They stood side by side. Twins. Inseparable. Two reflections of the same blood.

Lyrian smiled gently. That same smile Kaelis knew so well—warm, calm, full of belief.

"Ready?" he asked, nudging his shoulder.

Kaelis nodded, trying to hide the tremble in his hands. It was the day of their awakening. The day that would define their future forever.

Lyrian went first. A burst of light. Silence. And then... shock. Divine roots.

The family held its breath. The elders were speechless. King Aldrich stood tall, but his eyes sparkled with pride. Veynessa covered her mouth with her hand—barely holding back tears. In their eyes, he became more than a child—he became legacy. Someone they already called the future of their bloodline.

And Kaelis? He stood beside him. And despite everything... he smiled.

He was proud. Happy. As if he himself had awakened divine roots. Because his brother had. His brother, whom he loved and admired more than anyone in the world. For a brief moment, he forgot everything else. The future. The people. What would come.

Then came Kaelis.

And only... Medium Roots. No glow. No silence. Just disappointment.

And a silence that hurt more than words ever could. As if the world had held its breath—not in awe, but in disappointment. As if someone had turned off the light on just his side of the hall.

It wasn’t just a lack of brilliance—it was a verdict. As if fate itself looked him in the eye and shut the door.

He heard the whispers. From every side. Some soft. Others sharp with cruel delight. "How can his twin..." "Maybe he’s adopted." "A disgrace to the clan." "To have a brother like Lyrian and awaken... that?" "What a shame..." "Not everyone can be chosen." "Son of Veynessa and Aldrich, and only average roots? What a joke."

Each word pierced his skin like a needle. Each carried the same message: You’re a mistake.

And then he saw his mother’s gaze.

Veynessa didn’t hesitate for a second. Her face held no disappointment—only tenderness. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Kaelis without a word, without a pause, as if the whole world had vanished. She held him tightly, as if trying to shield him from all those stares, from the verdict just passed. As if to say, "You are enough for me. You always have been."

And the king—Aldrich—wore the mask of a ruler. Still. Unmoving. His eyes showed no contempt, but no emotion either. Stone. As if he had fought something within himself—and lost.

And for Kaelis, in that moment, that meant everything.

Lyrian didn’t let him face it alone.

As Veynessa held him, Lyrian stepped forward too. Without a word, without ceremony. He sat beside them, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Their eyes met—and Kaelis saw no pity in Lyrian’s gaze. Only acceptance. The same kind he had seen his whole life. As if everything that had just happened changed nothing between them.

Only then did he feel like he could breathe.

Lyrian sat beside him. Held him. Whispered:

"Our roots are not who we are. Our strength is what we choose when others write us off. "

And in that moment, to Kaelis, his brother was a hero. Not because of his strength—but because of what he did with it.

Even though Kaelis had only awakened average roots—in a family where strength defined worth and talent was the currency of respect—that day, he felt loved. Not judged. Not rejected. Veynessa, Lyrian... they made him feel like he could breathe in a world suffocating with expectations. That he could exist in a family where everything revolved around power.

And though he lacked his brother’s potential, though his Qi was weaker, he never gave up. He tried, with everything he had, to catch up—and ironically, he often succeeded. He made up for what he lacked in power with cleverness and wit. He was the one who always found the answer no one else saw.

When he fought side by side with Lyrian as children, as young men... they had felt like equals. At least, that’s how it felt back then. Through all the years, despite the difference in potential, their bond endured.

He watched Lyrian grow. Saw him break through barrier after barrier—up to the sixth stage, a height Kaelis couldn’t even dream of reaching. And though every advancement was a reminder of his own limits, he rejoiced. Truly. Because it was his brother.

But the higher Lyrian climbed, the less time they had together. The missions became harder. The absences longer. He came back with wounds he couldn’t hide anymore.

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"Why do you keep doing this?" Kaelis asked once, staring at blood-soaked bandages.

Lyrian smiled, a tired smile. "Because if these wounds can save someone, then they’re worth it. Every life is worth fighting for. Every one."

"I was gifted talent and potential," he added after a pause. "So I’ll do everything I can not to waste it. If I have strength, then I should use it... for others. What else would I do with it?"

He didn’t say it like a storybook hero. He said it like he truly believed it.

In the kingdom, people began speaking of him with reverence. Not just powerful—but human. That he knelt before a street orphan with the same respect he gave to royalty. That he never hesitated to put himself in harm’s way if it meant saving someone.

Kaelis admired that. With everything he had. He wanted to be that kind of person too. Someone who brought light.

And then the day came when everything changed.

The news came late at night. A panting messenger—hands torn, robes ragged. He burst into the palace without invitation, without warning. One name on his lips—Lyrian.

Kaelis froze.

A few hours later, in the war fortress, he heard the truth from the sole survivor of Lyrian’s unit.

The mission had seemed simple—local scouting in a border region. Nothing unusual. But when they arrived—

"It was a trap," the survivor said, voice rough with pain and exhaustion. "They were waiting for us. Disguised. They knew our route. Surrounded us from all sides."

Lyrian could’ve escaped. He was the first to break through the ambush. They all saw it—he had a clear path out. But then... he turned back.

"He didn’t even hesitate," the soldier said, hands trembling. "He attacked them to shield us. Fought like a madman. Like he wanted to stop the whole world."

He stayed. Fought. Alone, against masked enemies.

He bought them time. Every second of his life, every drop of blood. He carved out their escape from death itself.

And then he fell. Barely alive.

He still lies in a coma, locked in a silence no one has been able to break.

Since that day, Kaelis carried a hollow inside him that nothing could fill—not strategy, not ambition, not even battle.

And then something in him shattered. The world dimmed. As if he truly was alone.

In those early days, he blamed Lyrian.

"How could you be so damn stupid..." he whispered into the empty room, staring at his brother’s body, kept alive only by spells and healing rhythms.

He was furious. At the world. At fate. But most of all—at him. For leaving. For abandoning him.

But later... he understood. With every visit to that bedside, with every one-sided conversation he needed to have—he understood.

Lyrian wouldn’t have done it any other way.

"That’s who you are, isn’t it?" he asked once, with a bitter, sad smile. "Even if you could choose again... you’d still do it. That’s just who you are. You fool."

"And you know what?" he added softly, gazing at his unmoving brother, "I really do admire you for it. I always have."

"But I... I’m not like you. I’m not that strong. I can’t throw myself into the fire without hesitation. I can’t believe that all of this means something."

"So I’m choosing another path," he whispered. "My own. One that has nothing to do with your light. Even if it leads through the shadows."

***

Kaelis looked down. His fingers curled around the cool metal.

A pendant—the same kind Lyrian wore. Both had received them from Veynessa that day, right after their awakenings. It was a symbol of their bond. Something only they had—not as princes, not as cultivators, but as brothers.

Always with him.

He raised it to his lips and kissed it.

"I know you wouldn’t approve of what I’m doing," he whispered. "But this is the path I’ve chosen. And if I’m going to lose myself in it... let it at least lead somewhere beyond the dark."

He hadn’t come for honor. He hadn’t come to put on a show. Not even to lose with dignity. He had come because this was the only path left.

His roots were average. His potential—limited. The Fifth Stage was his ceiling. A wall he could never break through.

But the formation built from the Abyss King's core... it was different. Perhaps it allowed one to go further. Maybe it could break the rules that bound him.

And if he had one chance to push beyond—this was it.

He looked up at the stands.

His mother was watching him—still, silent.

His father... gave a nod. Short, sharp.

Vaelin watched with a complicated gaze, as if he wanted to speak but didn’t dare.

And Sylphia?

Sylphia looked like her world was crumbling. Her eyes held everything—confusion, disbelief, anger.

And then the whispers began. At first quiet, scattered. Then louder.

"He’s too late. Why didn’t he speak up before?" "He waited until she could barely stand? That’s pathetic." "If everyone did that, no one could fight fairly." "This breaks the spirit of the rules!"

Then came harsher voices—sharper, crueler:

"Coward." "A snake with no honor." "Is he really this shameless?" "Stepping over corpses to get ahead, huh?"

Some whispered. Others shouted. But all of them were aimed at him.

Kaelis heard every word. Each one stabbed into him like a blade—but he didn’t stop. He didn’t turn back. Because every one of those needles reminded him why he stood there.

"This isn’t fair!" a sudden voice shouted. Caius. He had just stood up, still pale, a bandage wrapped around his shoulder. "This violates the rules!"

He looked toward Kaen, voice thick with frustration. "Honored Ancestor, he said nothing earlier! Stayed silent the whole time, and now... now that Calista can barely stand, he challenges her? If I wanted to do that, I could’ve. But I didn’t. I stepped forward officially. I fought first."

His voice shook with rage—and bitterness. "Is that what you call honor? Is that justice?"

Kaelis said nothing. He simply raised his head and looked directly at Kaen.

Kaen stood motionless. For several seconds, nothing happened. And then... he raised his hand.

The entire arena fell silent. As if sound itself had been sliced away.

"Why," Kaen said—his voice calm, but every syllable echoed—"should I allow you this fight?"

The submissions were already made. The duels fought. And you... remained silent. You came only now, when Calista is barely standing.

His gaze settled on Kaelis. "What do you expect? That I’ll ignore the rules and hand you a chance just because it suits you?"

Kaelis raised his head—not in defiance, but in honesty.

"I don’t expect mercy, Honored Ancestor. I only ask for a chance."

"Everyone here remembers what you said—that with the right training, someone at the fifth stage could defeat someone at the seventh. But I... I’m not one of those exceptions."

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"My roots are average. My strength—below mediocre. In this world, I’m nothing. Trash. And that’s exactly why I can’t play by the rules. Because if I did, I wouldn’t even have a sliver of a chance."

He looked toward Calista. "If I had submitted officially, even as the last challenger, she would’ve known there was still one more fight. She would’ve saved energy. Held back reserves. Fought with caution."

"But if she thought it was over... then she could go all in. Take risks. Push harder. Because she believed it was the last battle."

"Only by doing this... could someone like me even have a chance against someone like her. Not with honor. Not with strength. But with calculation. And cunning."

"Because the truth is," he added, his voice faltering only once, "only the strong get to follow the rules. Only those with divine roots, with talent, with power... can afford nobility."

"And people like me? We have to survive differently. We have to fight from the shadows. Lie, deceive, strike when it hurts most. Because if we don’t... all we get is failure."

Kaen raised an eyebrow. Then he simply stared at Kaelis, silent. The air grew heavy as the seconds stretched, the weight of his gaze pressing down like a judgment yet unspoken. And then, after a long pause, he smiled—not with amusement, but with arrogance steeped in venom.

"You’re right," he said calmly. "You are trash."

The entire arena held its breath.

"But," he added, voice laced with venom, "unlike another piece of trash—" his gaze flicked to Caius, "—you at least know it."

"And despite being weak, despite barely being worthy to stand here—you still try. You still fight. Still claw at the ground, trying to prove something."

Kaen gave a slight nod.

"You’re right, Kaelis. This world belongs to the strong. But today, I’ll give you the right to prove that even trash can bite."

"You have my permission to fight."