Rise of the Primordial Dragon beast tamer-Chapter 52: The Sentinel’s Challenge.

Azvoid's senses strained under the oppressive darkness. He summoned another wave of ice-blades, cutting down the remaining Imperfections with ruthless precision. Their death throes echoed like the fading hum of broken glass.

"Purification progress: Eighty-seven percent," Noctis reported, his tone brisk, his focus clearly sharpened by whatever anomaly they were now dealing with.

Azvoid grunted, swiping sweat from his brow. The refinement process was supposed to be straightforward. Excruciating and demanding, yes, but straightforward. Instead, some creepy ancient voice decided to throw a wrench into his perfectly planned bloodline upgrade.

"Endure and ascend..." he muttered, the words rolling off his tongue like a riddle. "What do you make of it?"

Noctis's hesitation was palpable. "It sounds like guidance. The phrase matches what the Sentinels were said to speak during a bloodline trial. However, its mere presence here is problematic."

"Because I'm not supposed to have any visitors in my own bloodline cultivation, right?" Azvoid replied dryly. "Should I start charging rent?"

Noctis didn't bother responding to the sarcasm. His silence only heightened the unease prickling along Azvoid's spine.

"Just keep moving forward. We need to reach full purification before whatever that thing is decides to interfere again."

"Moving forward, got it," Azvoid muttered as he steadied his breath. His black obsidian eyes gleamed with determination. "Then let's see just how much I can ascend."

He took another step, conjuring a path of crystalline ice beneath his feet, the chilled surface cutting through the shadows. His senses expanded, his perception of the bloodline world sharpening. He could feel the flaws, the slivers of impurity that marred his potential.

With precision guided by Phantom Reflex, his strikes became ruthless. Every slice, every blast of ice, dismantled the imperfections without mercy. It was efficient, brutal, and most of all—exhilarating.

But the thrill was short-lived.

"Your conviction wavers."

Azvoid froze. The voice was back. Deeper. Clearer. And so close it felt like the words were brushing against his ear.

"Okay, that's definitely not my imagination," he said, his body coiled like a tightened spring. "Noctis, what's your read?"

"It's probing you. Assessing your willpower," Noctis replied, his voice tight. "The Sentinels were known to test their charges. If it's truly one of them... it may be attempting to guide you through your refinement. Or manipulate it."

"Testing me, huh?" Azvoid scoffed, eyes flashing. "If that's the case, then let's see how much this thing can handle."

He surged forward, pushing his abilities to the limit. Space Vector Master stretched his control over the environment, warping distances and contorting reality itself. He tore through the remaining imperfections with almost savage delight.

Ninety percent. Ninety-five. Ninety-eight.

"Good. But power alone is nothing."

Azvoid's surroundings blurred. The void itself twisted, reshaping into a landscape of towering black spires and cascading rivers of crimson flame. The ground beneath his feet pulsed with a dark, malevolent energy.

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"What the hell?" Azvoid snarled. His senses spun, disoriented by the sudden shift.

Noctis's voice held an edge of fury. "Something is interfering with your refinement! You must sever its influence before it—"

"Too late."

The words rumbled like the shuddering of a dying world. And then Azvoid was falling, dragged through an endless chasm of writhing shadows.

He crashed down into a barren, charred wasteland. The sky above was fractured, cracks of white light splintering the darkness. His knees buckled, the weight of something far greater than himself pressing down on his very soul.

"What... the hell... is this?" Azvoid growled through gritted teeth. His muscles strained under the pressure, every inch of his body trembling.

"Noctis? Noctis, where the hell are you?"

No response. Just the chilling silence of a world that didn't belong to him.

Azvoid's fists clenched. The overwhelming pressure threatened to tear him apart. His mind screamed for him to fall back, to break away from this madness. But his will burned brighter.

"If this is your idea of a test, then bring it on!" Azvoid roared, his voice cutting through the silence.

Something responded.

The fractured sky rippled, and from the cracks, a figure emerged. A towering, ethereal being wreathed in a storm of silver and black flames. Its form was both majestic and terrifying, its eyes glowing with a knowledge far beyond mortal comprehension.

"You seek to ascend. Yet your resolve falters."

Azvoid grinned through the pain. "So, you're the creep talking in riddles."

The being's gaze pierced him like a thousand blades.

"I am the Sentinel of Wyrmblood. The guardian of ascension. You stand at the precipice of evolution, yet your conviction is tarnished by doubt."

"Yeah, well, I've been told I've got some character flaws." Azvoid quipped. "So, what's your deal? You gonna give me another cryptic speech or what?"

The Sentinel's voice boomed. "You must prove your worth. Face the trial of Will and Dominion. Only then shall your bloodline reach its true potential."

Azvoid's eyes narrowed. This wasn't some random interference. It was a challenge. One he had every intention of crushing.

"Trial of Will and Dominion? Sounds like a fun little stroll."

The Sentinel's expression didn't change, but the intensity of its gaze grew.

"Prepare yourself, child of chaos. This is where your journey truly begins."

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