Chapter 1285: Struggle For You, Stroll For Me
Lyon took his first step forward, the weight of the mountain’s immense pressure bearing down on him like an invisible storm. His face hardened, bracing against the force that sought to crush his spirit with each passing moment. The other six young masters were already far ahead, their figures small in the distance as they struggled through the challenge, but Lyon had just begun.
This wasn’t a race. It was a test of willpower, a battle against the mountain itself. Only those with an unshakable heart could withstand the grind, and those who faltered would be crushed and thrown away without mercy. Yet Lyon, with an imperial grace that came naturally to him, strode up the incline, unhurried but unyielding.
The crowd that had gathered at the foot of the mountain fell into a tense silence. All eyes, especially those of the powerful leaders and elders, were focused on him. Lyon had already shocked them with his overwhelming strength in the previous rounds, effortlessly outclassing the six young masters, making the elite of the realms seem ordinary in comparison. But now, there was a palpable anticipation in the air—a hunger to see just how far he could go in this final, crucial trial.
His footsteps, calm yet deliberate, seemed to echo through the hearts of those watching. Every step felt momentous, as if Lyon was not only climbing the mountain but ascending beyond the expectations of everyone present.
"He’s not rushing," one elder muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed. "He’s pacing himself."
Another patriarch from a distant clan nodded, watching Lyon intently. "A show of confidence, or perhaps... he’s saving himself for something more."
"Look at him," murmured a matriarch. "No struggle, no hesitation. His movements are like that of a ruler walking through his own domain."
Whispers rippled through the crowd, each voice filled with awe, curiosity, and—whether admitted or not—a touch of fear. Lyon’s dominance thus far had left an indelible mark on everyone present, and now, even against the raw, oppressive power of the mountain, he walked as though he belonged.
Panting, Mavis glanced back, only to see Lyon approaching with his usual smirk. The nonchalance in Lyon’s eyes made Mavis feel even more frustrated.
"You finally make a move," Mavis muttered, trying to shake off the embarrassment of losing ground.
Lyon’s smirk deepened, his steps calm and unbothered by the oppressive force that hung over them all. "You shouldn’t focus on me, or else..." His voice trailed off with a hint of amusement.
Mavis gritted his teeth as he felt his body lurch backward, the sudden shift in pressure sending him stumbling several steps down the mountain. His focus had slipped—just for a moment—but it was enough to almost cost him dearly. He barely managed to stop himself from rolling down the treacherous incline by digging his fingers into the rough ground.
Before Mavis could fully register his words, the mountain’s pressure hit him again, harder this time. His lapse in concentration had cost him. He was propelled back once more, nearly losing his footing entirely. Gritting his teeth harder, Mavis dug his fingers deeper into the ground, barely managing to stay upright.
Lyon chuckled softly, now standing beside him. The weight of the mountain didn’t seem to faze him at all.
"Just a moment is enough to kill someone," Lyon said, his tone playful but carrying a hidden edge of seriousness. "If you lose focus for even a second, you’re gone."
Mavis managed a wry smile, still catching his breath as he looked up at Lyon. "Y-Yeah... but why doesn’t that rule apply to you? You just stroll up here like it’s nothing."
Lyon paused for a moment, his gaze flickering with that same confident, almost teasing spark. "I always keep my focus," he said simply, before walking past Mavis with ease, leaving the young master to wrestle with his own pride and the mountain’s crushing force.
As Lyon continued his ascent, the other young masters couldn’t help but glance his way, each of them feeling the same mix of awe and frustration that Mavis did. The mountain wasn’t just a test of strength—it was revealing who among them truly had the will to endure. And Lyon, it seemed, was far ahead of them in more ways than one.
Alistair Skyblade, the patriarch of the Sky Clan, watched intently from his elevated position, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. His sharp, sky-blue eyes, typically unflinching in the face of any challenge, were now filled with concern. He followed Mavis’s every movement on the mountain, the weight of his legacy bearing down on him like the very pressure threatening to crush his son.
As Mavis stumbled, nearly losing his footing, Alistair’s fingers twitched. The slight tremor was uncharacteristic for a man known for his iron will. He leaned forward, his jaw clenched tightly. The sight of his son, who had been groomed from birth to inherit the clan’s pride and legacy, faltering against the mountain was like a knot twisting in his gut.
"Focus, Mavis...," Alistair muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible even to those near him. His steely demeanor wavered just enough for the nearby elders of the Sky Clan to exchange worried glances. It was rare to see their patriarch so visibly unsettled.
As Lyon casually strolled past Mavis, seemingly unaffected by the crushing weight of the mountain, Alistair’s concern deepened. He knew of Lyon’s strength, had heard the tales of his feats, but seeing it firsthand—seeing how his son struggled while Lyon moved as though he were on a leisurely walk—brought an uncomfortable realization. The gap between them was vast, and it was growing.
One of the Sky Clan’s elders stepped closer to Alistair, his voice cautious. "Patriarch, Mavis still has a chance. He is resilient, as you’ve trained him to be."
Alistair didn’t respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Mavis, watching him grit his teeth and claw his way back into focus. "He must endure," Alistair finally said, though his voice carried an edge of worry. "He has to prove that he can stand among the best. This is more than just a test—it’s his legacy at stake."
The elder nodded, though even he could sense the tension in Alistair’s voice. The patriarch’s pride as both a father and the leader of the Sky Clan was intertwined with Mavis’s performance.
The climb grew exponentially more grueling with each step, and the pressure of the mountain was relentless. Each of the six young masters, strong as they were, began to falter as they ascended higher. The weight of the atmosphere bore down on them like a tangible force, making every movement feel like they were wading through an ocean of stone.
Mavis, still recovering from his earlier slip, grit his teeth. His legs trembled slightly with each step, and sweat began to bead down his brow. "Tch, damn it," he muttered under his breath, his usual confidence beginning to wane. His body was trained to endure, but the mountain’s pressure was unlike anything he had ever faced. Every inch of progress felt like he was dragging the entirety of the Sky Clan’s legacy with him. He glanced up and saw Lyon ascending easily, which only deepened the frustration gnawing at his pride. "How... how can he be so calm?"
As the other five young masters struggled against the ever-increasing pressure of the mountain, the sound of steady footsteps approached. Their focus wavered as Lyon casually walked past them, his arms still crossed, eyes half-lidded as if he were out for a stroll.
Esmeralda, who had always maintained a poised and elegant demeanor, was visibly trembling. Her once-perfect posture was slumped as she leaned against a jagged rock for support. As Lyon passed her, she shot him a glare filled with a mixture of envy and frustration. "This pressure... How are you so unaffected?"
Lyon paused briefly, looking over his shoulder at her with a playful smirk. "Maybe I just like long walks," he quipped, then added, "or maybe, Esmeralda, you’re thinking too hard."
The venomous young master gritted her teeth but couldn’t muster a reply, her pride preventing her from admitting how outmatched she felt. The gap between them was undeniable.
Ning’s calm facade had also shattered. His breathing was heavy, his eyes wide as he watched Lyon’s effortless ascent. His muscles were tensed, his every movement labored as he tried to keep going. As Lyon passed him, Ning shook his head in disbelief. "This shouldn’t be possible. No one should be able to just... walk through this."
Lyon glanced at him, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "You’re focusing too much on the pressure. Just keep moving forward," he said with a wink, leaving Ning behind, stunned by his casual attitude.
Yuri, his body trembling with effort, glared at Lyon as he approached. His pride as a young master of the Black Kirin Clan burned, and his Kirin manifestation flickered weakly around him. "You... are you mocking us?" he hissed.
Lyon smiled, not slowing down. "No, no. That would be rude," he replied with a grin, "I’m just giving you all a head start."
Yuri’s face twisted in frustration, but Lyon had already passed him, his casual steps mocking the intense struggle of everyone around him.
Azleid’s stone-like composure was cracking. His fists were clenched tightly as he fought against the unbearable pressure. Watching Lyon pass him so easily sent a pang of frustration through his usually calm demeanor. "This pressure... How can you ignore it?"
Lyon’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he walked past Azleid. "Who said I was ignoring it?" he replied. "I’m just not letting it slow me down."
Lastly, as Lyon passed Lyra, her elemental energy flickering around her, she looked at him with wide eyes. The effort it took her just to keep standing was immense, and here Lyon was, walking by with a lightness that seemed almost mocking. She bit her lip, her pride wounded, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him.
Lyon glanced at her, offering a wink. "Don’t worry, Lyra. It’s just a little mountain."
With that, Lyon continued his ascent, his casual pace starkly contrasting the agonizing struggle of the six young masters. Every step he took seemed to defy the crushing weight of the mountain, his imperial grace and confidence making the impossible look effortless.
For the others, it was as if they had just been left in the wake of a force far beyond their own comprehension.
