Chapter 43: God Of Nature

The crisp winter air howled through the First Court, but the moment Evan stepped across the threshold, the wind died down into an unnatural, heavy stillness.

Before him lay the true foundation of the sect.

The First Court was an immense, circular plaza carved entirely from dark, obsidian like stone that seemed to absorb the light of the grey winter sky.

Towering walls of reinforced granite encircled the area, guarded at every twenty paces by mortal knights clad in heavy, silent iron armor, their halberds gleaming coldly.

Cobblestone pathways branched off like a spiderweb toward massive training pavilions, ancient archives, and rows of stone barracks.

The air here didn’t smell of herbs and ink like the academy, it smelled of ozone, dense Qi, and raw, unfiltered power.

But the most striking feature of the First Court was the monument anchoring its exact center. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Rising fifty feet into the air was the ancient statue of The God Of Nature.

It was a primordial structure carved from a single, seamless block of petrified, moss-covered weirwood stone.

The deity possessed no distinct facial features, only a smooth, terrifyingly blank visage flanked by four massive, stone arms that reached toward the heavens and the earth simultaneously.

A faint, emerald-green pulse resonated deep within the rock, casting an eerie, rhythmic glow across the plaza.

Evan walked past the staring gazes of several low-ranking disciples, his wolf-skin cloak billowing slightly behind him, his brownish leather gloves gripping his waist.

He directed his steps toward the grand administrative pavilion overlooking the central monument.

Inside the high-ceilinged hall sat the Head of the First Court.

The man was an absolute mountain of flesh and muscle.

A dedicated Cultivator of the Strength Path, his height cleared a staggering 7 feet and five inch.

Evan could not help but think if his mother had sinned with a Giant.

His bare, scar-tissue-covered arms were as thick as tree trunks, and his presence alone exerted a passive, suffocating gravity that made the air feel thin.

He was currently reviewing leather scrolls with a massive feather quill that looked ridiculously small in his giant hand.

’State your business, kid,’ the giant rumbled, his voice vibrating the iron light fixtures hanging from the ceiling.

Evan didn’t flinch.

He took two steps forward, closed his eyes, and unleashed the spiritual suppression he had kept buried for six long months.

Hum.

The air inside the hall instantly turned freezing cold as a sharp, predatory aura rippled outward.

Deep within Evan’s soul, the crimson wall of his fledgling aperture had completely dissolved long ago, revealing a pristine, brilliant Silver Aperture wall.

But he hid it using the Fake Cultivation Rank Shower Blood Worm

Within its metallic borders, the highly nourished, thick Qi swirled like a vortex of liquid Crimson.

It was the unmistakable, terrifying signature of an Initial Stage Awakened Vampire.

The giant stopped his quill.

His massive head snapped up, his heavy brows furrowed as he stared at the silver and crimson radiance radiating from Evan’s core.

A low, appreciative grunt rumbled in his barrel chest.

’An awakened... and of the blood path,’ the Head muttered, a grim smile cutting across his scarred face.

’Hiding your breakthrough for half a year in the preparatory mud. You have a viper’s patience, boy. Very well.’

Evan could not help but get shocked that this giant had a brain too, a great one he would say...

The giant slammed a heavy, blood-red parchment onto the desk.

’Sign the blood-ink contract. From this moment on, your life, your secrets, and your blade belong to the advancement of the First Court. Disobey, and the contract will rot your veins from the inside out.’

Evan stepped forward, dipped his gloved finger into the specialized blood-ink, and signed his name with a fluid, unhesitating stroke.

The parchment flared with a brief green light before dissolving into a wisp of smoke that sank directly into Evan’s chest.

’The papers are bound,’ the giant commanded, rising to his full, terrifying 7’5" height and pointing a massive finger toward the open courtyard.

’But the sect does not recognize a name until it is written in stone. Go to the center of the plaza. Take the Vow of the First Court before the gaze of the Ancient One.’

Evan bowed his head slightly, turning on his heel.

He walked back into the open courtyard, the heavy snow falling around him, until he stood directly at the base of the colossal, featureless God of Nature.

A small stone altar sat at the deity’s feet, stained dark by centuries of dried, iron-rich blood.

Evan pulled off his right brownish leather glove, exposing his pale, calloused hand to the biting winter cold.

Reaching into his robes, he drew the dagger that Santiago had gifted him long ago.

With a swift, practiced motion, he sliced a deep line across his palm.

As the thick, dark crimson blood of an awakened vampire began to well up and flow down his wrist, he pressed his bleeding hand directly against the mossy, petrified stone arm of the God.

The stone immediately began to drink his vitality, the emerald pulse inside the monument glowing violently in response.

Evan looked up into the blank, terrifying face of the deity and spoke the ancient, solemn words of the Outer Court vow, his voice echoing clearly across the dark plaza:

’The night gathers, and my dawn begins. I bind my blood to the stone, and my breath to the wind. I shall wear no crown of comfort, and know no fear of the dark. I am the shield that guards the sect, the blade that carves the path. Should my resolve falter, let the earth swallow my marrow. Should my loyalty break, let the foul consume my heart. Before the God of Nature, under the grey winter sky, I give my blood. I take my place.’1

The moment the last word left his lips, the statue let out a deep, resonant vibration that rattled through the soles of his boots.

The open wound on his hand suddenly stopped bleeding, leaving behind a faint, silver scar in the shape of a creeping root.

The vow was sealed.

He was officially an Outer Disciple.

Evan pulled his leather glove back on, feeling the rush of new status warming his veins.

He looked around the bustling First Court, his dark eyes searching the groups of passing disciples for two familiar faces.

He needed to find Santiago and Hannah.

It had been six long months, and he was finally standing on the same ground as them.

He walked over to a nearby stone pavilion where an older disciple was organizing iron weapon racks.

’Hey,’ Evan called out, his voice sharp and commanding.

’Where can I find the new recruits who advanced half a year ago? Santiago of the noble line, and the girl, Hannah?’

The older disciple stopped, looking at Evan’s wolf pelt and the fresh silver token gleaming on his waist.

He sighed, wiping sweat from his brow despite the freezing snow.

’You’re looking for the high fliers?’ the disciple asked, shaking his head.

’You’re too late, brother. They aren’t in the First Court right now. They’ve been gone for almost six weeks.’

Evan’s brow furrowed beneath his messy hair.

’Gone where?’

’A prioritized caravan assignment,’ the disciple explained, pointing toward the northern mountain passes.

’They were deployed alongside Bruce and the Core Disciple Harry. They’re transporting a major transaction of heavy goods, weapons, and raw materials over to the territory of the Bone Men Sect. It’s a dangerous route, and they won’t be back for at least two days.’

Evan stood frozen in the falling snow, looking toward the distant, jagged mountains.

A cold, calculating expression settled over his face.

They were already out in the world, bleeding and earning resources, while he had just taken his first step.

As the crimson Qi surged inside his silver aperture, Evan knew one thing for certain, he would catch up.

Inspired from the vow of the nights watch from the series A Song Of Ice And Fire By George RR. Martin