Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 409: Forfeit

The weight of expectation bore down upon the high platform as the Sect's senior Elders turned toward Volten. Their expressions varied—some were amused, others thoughtful, but most wore expressions of barely concealed astonishment.

One of the Elders, Elder Veydran, a towering man with streaks of silver threading through his deep indigo-blue hair, was the first to break the silence. As the Head of External Relations with the Western Continent's Lightning-affiliated sects, he had spent centuries navigating diplomatic ties, managing rivalries, and brokering alliances. Yet, even with all his experience dealing with prodigies from other powers, this moment left him at a loss.

"Sect Master…" He exhaled, shaking his head. "That was… something else."

"Something else?" Elder Roghan, one of the Sect's Combat Instructors, former member of the War Council during the Sect War, and overseer of the Lightning Sect's specialized war battlements, scoffed, arms crossed. His lightning-wreathed gaze remained locked onto Lassim below. "That boy didn't just defeat a fellow Spirit Transcendence cultivator—he erased the idea that any of them ever stood a chance to begin with."

A murmur of agreement passed through the gathered Elders.

"This is beyond prodigy-level," Elder Veydran continued, eyes narrowing. "You understand what we just witnessed, don't you?"

Elder Ozaiah, a middle-aged Elder with a deep scar running down his temple and portly belly from lack of exercise, grunted. As the Sect's Grand Treasury Keeper, he was responsible for overseeing the allocation of sect resources, high-grade cultivation materials, and funding of various departments. His judgment was rarely swayed by spectacle, but even he found himself unsettled.

"I can't remember the last time I saw a Personal Disciple move with that kind of absolute power," Ozaiah admitted, his midnight-blue eyes narrowing. "Not just that, but the wisdom to measure himself and control his power like one of us teaching the younger disciples. He knew exactly how much force to use in that last attack. That's a level of judgment even some Elders struggle to achieve."

"That's the part that unsettles me most," Elder Roghan muttered. "Sect Master, would you say that Lassim has ever been tested at his limit? It's clear he held back, but what exactly would be his maximum if this isn't even close to his full strength?"

The thought sent a ripple of unease through the group.

A different Elder, Elder Vaal, a reserved man known for his sharp analysis, crossed his arms. As the Sect's Mount Overseer, he was responsible for the entire program that managed the raising and distribution of the sect's Thunderbird population. He had a reputation for always thinking five steps ahead due to the very nature of his position.

"I've seen dozens of so-called geniuses rise in the sect over the last thousands of years. Some of them stood above their peers—but never this far above. If he's only Spirit Transcendence Level 2, then what happens when he reaches Spirit Mystic? What happens when he breaks into Spirit Prince stage? Should we be concerned he will be called upon, and disappear early in the way the Spirit Kings do?"

"Spirit King…" Elder Veydran said grimly. "I do believe that might be what the gods intend with giving such unrestricted access to the upper stages of cultivation at such a young age. With this level of growth, he could reach Demi-God status in not only our lifetimes, but very soon at that. I do believe we should realize the severity of what this means…"

That statement hung in the air.

Every single Elder present had lived for millennia, watching countless cultivators rise and fall. But Spirit Demi-Gods? They were a rarity even among the strongest sects. Some took tens of thousands of years to reach that stage, but they were rarely seen due to the laws of the pantheon that restricted and shaped the power levels of the planet Nexaria. There was a massive, but somewhat open secret that Lassim was soon about to learn.

And yet, for the first time in their immortal lives, they were seriously entertaining the idea that one of their own disciples might reach it before their era and tenure as Sect Elders even ended.

Volten, who had been silent through their musings, exhaled. His expression remained neutral, but there was a glint in his eye—one that none of them missed but didn't comment on. It seemed the Sect Master was debating what he should say and explain to his disciple or let him figure it out on his own.

But despite the worry, the weight of Lassim's performance was clear. The discussions were no longer about whether he was an elite disciple. They were about where he would stand among the legends of the Sect.

And that was an entirely different conversation.

Beyond the elders, in the sea of personal disciples, the conversations took a more dramatic turn. A younger disciple, still flushed from cheering, suddenly froze as he replayed Lassim's [Shattered Sky Bolt] in his mind. His face paled slightly as he came to a realization, "Wait… I saw Elder Baruun fight during the Sun Sect War…" He swallowed, his throat dry. "And I think Lassim's attack was stronger."

The murmuring immediately surrounding the one boy who spoke stopped instantly.

A second disciple snapped his head toward him, eyes wide. "What?"

"I mean it," the first one said, his voice urgent. "Elder Baruun used a fully-charged attack going crazy and shouting '[Lightning Burst]!' back then—and it was terrifying. But that weird [Lightning Bolt] Lassim used, whatever it's name is… it felt heavier. Stronger. It was like the very world around it was coming apart and just shattered it apart. You all saw Raizan disappear for a second and reappear from that hole in the void right?"

That single statement sent another ripple through the audience.

"Are you saying he's already surpassed that attack of someone at the Spirit Mystic stage?"

"He only launched two attacks before Raizan was completely out of the fight," another disciple added, recalling the battle. "Two."

Silence settled over the disciples once more.

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The realization truly sank in.

While the elders praised and the audience celebrated, the remaining competitors stood in absolute silence in their position along the side of the arena waiting their turn.

They had come here expecting a competition. They had trained for their whole lives, finally finding an Elder that recognized their worth and willingness to help them grow further within these last five years and this was supposed to be their chance to prove their worth. But now, they all realized something at the exact same time.

There was no competition.

The next matchups didn't matter.

The semifinals didn't matter.

None of them could beat Lassim.

Xenthos, one of the next competitors, clenched his fists, his spiritual pressure around him flickering slightly with loose lightning mana. As Spirit Transcendence cultivator at Level 6, one level above Raizan, his confidence had always been unshakable against opponents like Raizan who he had sparred with before. But right now? He felt small. The fight had shown that the difference in power wasn't just vast—it was absolute. There was no path to victory.

Ivara Lenix, standing beside him, let out a quiet, almost resigned click of her tongue, "Tch. Well," she muttered under her breath, "I was hoping to put on a good show today... but I'm not about to step onto that stage just to be a glorified training dummy."

Kaelrin Voskar exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I thought I had a shot at this," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. "But after that display, I don't even think a Spirit Mystic stage elder could stop him." His gaze flickered toward Lassim.

Morhan, another competitor, had been staring at the shattered battlefield, deep in thought. Finally, he sighed. "My Master told me to fight with everything I had." He glanced toward Lassim, his expression unreadable. "But even if I did... I wouldn't even touch him."

One by one, including Veyra Saorin who had been lucky enough to earn the easy first round bye, all arrived at the same conclusion. Why continue fighting when there was only a 1st place prize? Should they have to face that monster and end up bleeding out against the tiled stage just for a chance at second place that had no prize? Their thoughts rationalized how it was about knowing the difference between ambition and suicide.

And so—they all forfeited.

The crowd gasped as every remaining competitor stepped forward, their voices ringing clear over the static hum of residual lightning in the coliseum air. One by one, they declared their withdrawal, each competitor lowering their heads in acknowledgment of what was already an undeniable truth.

The tournament was over.

Lassim stood unchallenged.

Thunderous cheers filled the air, a cacophony of shouts and celebration as disciples and elders alike roared in approval. Some stomped their feet, causing vibrations to rattle through the stands, while others called Lassim's name, chanting it in exhilaration. Lightning flickered in the skies above, as if even the storm itself acknowledged the momentous occasion.

Sect Master Volten, stood and then stepped forward to fly up above his platform so everyone could see him. His orange-lightning gaze swept across the coliseum, taking in the crowd's energy, the unrestrained excitement, and the undercurrent of awe still lingering in the atmosphere.

Then, with an air of finality, his voice boomed across the coliseum, cutting through the cheers like a blade of thunder, "With that, the Elder Summit's Martial Tournament has concluded."

The cheering reached a peak before cresting, voices trailing off as the weight of his words settled in. This was the official end.

Volten raised a hand, silencing them once more. "The awards ceremony, promotions, and sect advancements will be revealed tomorrow. Until then, celebrate! You have all witnessed the rise of a momentous occasion that will become a legend today, and I expect every tavern and gathering hall in the sect to be overflowing with revelry. After the events and losses we suffered a year ago, it's only right that we properly use this as the defining moment to look forward to the Lightning Sect's future!"

He paused and let the seriousness of it set in before he revealed a wide and toothy smile as he continued, "Drinks across the sect shall be free tonight, courtesy of the Lightning Sect's treasury—so enjoy yourselves! But do not forget—" His gaze sharpened, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "The awards ceremony will be held in the afternoon to give you all time to recover. Do not disgrace yourselves by failing to attend."

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd, but the underlying message was clear. Tonight, they will celebrate. Tomorrow, they would recognize the achievements and future of the sect.

A final, resounding cheer erupted, a farewell to the Elder Summit's grand event.

Above them, the storm rumbled one last time, as if granting its approval before settling into an expectant hush.

The Elder Summit's Martial Tournament had officially come to an end, and with it, tomorrow's award ceremony would end the Elder Summit as a whole.