The Wheel Of Samsara 65 A Will Grows Through Struggles I

He did not know for how long he had walked. He did not know if he was walking in circles or not. He did not know where he needed to go. The only certainty he had was that no matter where he looked at, the ground would be that black vitrified rock and red clouds would light up the dark sky above his head.

Amon's eyes were misty as he moved forward in a daze. The uneven ground made him lose his balance more than once. His arms and legs were full of bruises of the many times he fell, and the temperature was turning so hot he did not even sweat anymore.

His feet were full of blisters, and they only made walking worse. For some reason, he could not open his Bottomless Pouch and take even a drop of the water he had there. It was as if some force was holding the pouch shut and Amon was not strong enough to force it open.

He started dragging his feet through the ground rather than take proper steps. He felt too weak to even lift a foot. It was a really strange feeling. He did not feel such exhaustion even once in his life, much less after his Body Tempering. It was as if the atmosphere of the place was draining his energy, not letting him last as long as he should.

Not even his divine sense worked properly. He could manipulate the Qi around him, but he could not absorb it into his body to recover his stamina. It was as if an invisible membrane had coated his body, deflecting the Qi every time it was about to touch his skin.

The golden token weighting down on his clothes was turning more attractive each time Amon took a breath. Some time ago, Amon had started gripping the token underneath his clothes. It felt cool as Amon touched it, the only thing that seemed unaffected by the heat.

The thoughts of breaking it were not strong, but they seemed to linger in his mind without ever going away. It was like very faint voice that grew stronger the weaker Amon became. Amon did not know when that voice had started echoing in his mind.

It could have been mere minutes. It could have been hours. It could have been days.

Either way, even if the voice was still weak, eventually it would overwhelm him if he did not find his way out.

'Thud!'

Amon's feet got stuck in a depression in the ground and he fell down powerlessly. He landed on his shoulder, and a sharp pain spread through it. Amon did not mind it, though. He felt his whole body numb. If anything, this pain was somewhat refres.h.i.+ng.

He somehow forced himself to turn on his back and he gazed at the sky. The red clouds were still, unmoving. As if frozen in time, they quietly stood above him. Looking closely, Amon realized all of them seemed to have the same size and the same shape. It was impossible to use the clouds to try to guide himself.

He tried to laugh in his despair, but he found no voice nor the energy for it. He could only look up with a regretful expression.

This was a place with no life. A place with no disparity. A place with no movement.

A place where the only thing that seemed to try to struggle against the stillness was himself.

The heat coming from his back did not bother Amon in the least. He thought it was very comfortable.

He stood still just like the clouds, looking up mindlessly.

Unknowingly, his vision darkened, and all he could see was nothingness.

---

"What an unlucky kid." Sarah said with a sigh. She could not hide the pity in her eyes as she looked down.

All of the High Elders and Elders, in addition to Borgin were in a dark, but s.p.a.cious room. From the ceiling, innumerable pale white roots hanged, pointing down like spears. The twisted roots glowed with a beautiful pale light, a stark contrast to their ominous appearance.

From the roots, droplets of a viscous and bright liquid dripped down, falling on a wide, but shallow pool in the center of the room. The pool was filled with the viscous liquid glowed with the same light of the roots, shedding its pale light on the overseers and making shadows dance through their faces.

Strangely enough, the liquid was completely still, looking more like a bright mirror than a pool of sap. Even the dripping of the glowing droplets did not make the surface ripple.

What was reflected in that bizarre mirror, however, was not the roots hanging from the ceiling. The wide pool seemed to be divided into fifty sections, with the sap dripping from the roots falling in each one of them.

Each section showed a different image, and each section had only one person reflected on it.

This pool of sap lied under the Ashen Heart Tree, and it was through it that the representatives of each sect could supervise the ongoing h.e.l.lblaze Trials.

Sarah had her eyes fixed in a figure in particular. He was lying down on a dark a glossy ground, with his eyes closed and his bizarre ashen hair a mess. The boy had clearly pa.s.sed out.

"For the Guardian to throw him in the Purgatory…" Sarah shook her head with a desolated look.

"The Guardian decides what a fitting Trial is for each one of the contestants." Borgin said with his cold, indifferent voice. "If he was thrown in the Purgatory it is because it is where he needs to be."

Sarah sighed again but said no more. The Guardian was known for being impartial and precise in his judgement. Furthermore, from her previous experiences overseeing the Trials, Borgin's words were right. If the boy was there, it was because he needed to be there. Sarah couldn't imagine for what other reason the Guardian would put the boy through such suffering.

Sarah moved her eyes away from the boy, looking at a section of the pool not very far from him.

A graceful, but lonely figure walked through a field of ice and fire. The ground at her feet changed at each step she took, either being covered in chilling snow or turning into smoldering rock. Snow fell from the endless white sky above her, being thrown while violence at her by searing winds.

Her light blue clothes were torn and wrinkled under the effects of the opposing elements, and they were clinging tightly to her body. Her silky black hair whipped about as the hot winds and the snow hit her, but she moved on stubbornly.

Sarah could imagine the fearless expression the girl had, even if she had covered her face with a dense white mist that not even the wind could blow away.

Nevertheless, even if she was moving forward, the raging elements were certainly taking a toll on her. Her shoulders were drooped and her steps were slow. Even under such conditions, however, Sarah could feel her burning desire as the girl forcefully proceeded forward, leaving small, but deep footprints on snow and smoldering rock alike.

Sarah pitied Amon for his bad luck, but she also pitied the girl she was looking at. Maybe she had an even worse luck.

"Oh, Anna… when will you change?" Sarah asked herself in a whisper, feeling heartbroken as she saw the unwielding figure struggling alone in the tempestuous conflict of ice and fire