The structure of the Shadowgrave Clan was cold, dark, and it was not a place that would appeal to those who loved beautiful, colorful, and luxurious structures.
However, to Simon, he was amazed by the structure of the clan.
He had seen far more beautiful things in his past life, but there was a certain beauty regarding the structure of the clan that appealed to him.
However, there was something else he realized due to his high wind affinity.
’This wind is the wind of the Blackwind Valley.’
Others might not know, but his affinity for the wind element made him to realize that the wind was the same as that of the Blackwind Valley.
There were little differences in the wind, but such differences could be ignored.
He raised his head slightly, and his eyes flashed with a baffled light.
’But if this is the Blackwind Valley, where in the valley is this location? Could it be the ravine that had wooden bridges?’
’But that ravine was small. It was not as massive as this. If it was, I would have walked for over an hour to get to the other side.’
’A formation? An array? But I don’t sense any chaos runes. So where is this place in the valley?’
The gears spun as he tried to figure out where the clan was situated in the valley, but when a gust blew at him and the others from below, he was forced to stop his thoughts.
He looked down at the silver-gray mist, and the more he observed it, the more his eyes could not help but widen.
’Demonic energy? There’s a lot of demonic energy mixed with another energy in the mist. And if I’m correct.. Most likely, the deeper one goes, the denser the demonic energy and that strange energy becomes.’
The wind did not stop blowing despite Simon’s thoughts.
Even after the awe of the Initiates settled into something quieter- something tighter in their chests- the ravine continued to breathe around them.
"How long are you going to stand there in awe. Move it, Initiates."
All the Initiates and even Simon was shocked by the sudden voice that came out of nowhere.
The voice was not loud, yet it cut through the air ease.
Simon turned, and he saw a clan member standing near the terrace steps.
’An Archfiend. Does that mean he’s a Shadow Blade? Has to be, because I didn’t even sense him at all. I doubt another Initiate can hide from me that well even though I was completely focused on the structure of the clan.’
Although Simon had the urge to completely pierce the veil of the clan member, he knew that doing so would most likely cause a clan member who was more influential than him to dislike him.
The clan member swept his cold eyes at Simon and the Initiates, and with a cold voice, he spoke.
"Initiate quarters are on the western descent. Follow the marked path."
Western decent.
That meant left.
Simon turned.
To their left, the cliff wall sloped downward in layered terraces carved like giant steps into the canyon’s side.
The upper levels held broad platforms and structured balconies, but as the levels descended, the stone grew rougher and less polished.
The Initiate district was lower.
Definitely not at the bottom.
But closer to the mist than the sky.
Simon and the Initiates had the map of a portion of the clan in their minds after getting the clan symbol. So, they knew where to go.
The group moved together. Their boots, sandals, shoes, and bare feet scraped against stone as they descended a wide stairway carved directly into the cliff face.
The steps had no railing, only open air on one side and sheer stone on the other.
Below them, suspended training platforms floated in staggered formation. Above them, Shadow Blades crossed narrow bridges without hesitation and with indifference.
The deeper they went, the narrower the paths became.
The architecture shifted.
The upper levels had arches, carved embellishments, symmetrical designs.
The lower levels were simpler.
Stone doors line the cliff face in long horizontal rows. Small square windows were cut above each one, letting thin blades of lights from the ravine. Lantern hooks hung beside the doorframes, some lit, some dark.
They reached a broad mid-level courtyard.
It was open to the ravine, a flat stretch of stone encircled by dormitory entrances. A few older Initiates leaned against the wall, watching the newcomers with unreadable expressions.
This was not a grand district.
This was where the clan began cutting away excess.
A Whisperer without a mask stepped forward, holding a thin slate tablet.
"Names will be called. You will take the room assigned. You will not trade rooms."
One by one, names were spoken.
When Simon’s name came, he stepped forward without hesitation.
"Upper tier. Row C. Room 47."
Upper tier sounded good, but Simon knew it was not.
Not because of danger or anything of sort, but because it was one of the low quality rooms.
It was called upper tier because it was further away from the mist compared to other rooms which were closer and even inside the mist.
’According to the map, if I was given my rightful living quarters for first place, I would be living in the mist which has way more demonic energy than here.’
’My cultivation and recovery speed would be a lot higher. And it would not take so long to reach the classes which are down below.’
Although Simon had this thought, he was not bothered so much because compared to the Wildlands or even where low level or the Six Tribes were located, the demonic energy around him was a lot denser than those locations.
’Row C is where the low quality houses are located. Row B is for the average quality houses. Row A is for the high quality houses. And Row S is for the peak quality houses which are meant for the best Initiates of each class.’
Row C was not along the courtyard itself but further down, where the cliff narrowed and the wind grew colder.
The stairs here were tighter. The stone less smooth, and the lanterns fewer.
He was bordering on the edge of the mist, and he could see other higher quality houses down below.
Row C stretched along a narrow ledge barely wide enough for three men to walk side by side. Doors were identical, they were plain, unmarked, and carved straight into the rock.
Room 47 sat near the far end.
Simon stopped in front of it.
The door was simple stone reinforced with a strip of black iron across the middle. There was no symbol, and no ornament.
Simon observed it for a moment, then he pushed it open.
The hinges did not creak, and the air inside was cool and still.
The room was small.
Not prison-small.
But close.
A narrow bed carved from stone extended from the left wall, topped with a thin mattress and a folded dark blanket. On the bed was a few things.
Opposite it was a simple wooden desk bolted into the floor. A single chair. A small recessed shelf carved into the stone wall for personal items.
A square window which was no larger than his head, looked out over the ravine.
From the windows the most felt almost within reach.
The walls were unfinished stone, rough in places. No carvings. No lantern installed yet, only a metal bracket where one could be hung.
This was not a room of luxury or decoration.
Just space.
And well... It reminded him of his earlier years of poverty with the woman who brought him into this world.
’Room 47 huh. Not as terrible as I expected. Better than the prison cell at least.’ Simon smiled slightly behind his mask.