[Nine days.]
[Nine days of Earl Bruts breaking his body and rebuilding it from fragments.]
[Nine days of wooden swords splitting his palms open, then healing them with crude bandages and bitter medicine.]
[Nine days of muscles screaming as they remembered what it meant to be strong.]
[Now the tenth day had arrived.]
Prince Vaelric— "Are you ready to lose everything, brother?"
[The prince stood at the edge of the dueling grounds, silver hair catching the morning light. His real blade rested casually against his shoulder—sharp, polished, lethal.]
[Behind him, nobles gathered in clusters, their whispers slithering through the air.]
Noble— "He still looks like he'll snap in half."
Noble— "Ten days won't fix a lifetime of weakness."
[Earl Bruts stood beside Abaksa, arms crossed.]
[Silent.]
Earl Bruts— "Remember what I taught you."
Abaksa Einsro— "Don't die stupidly."
Earl Bruts— "Good."
[Abaksa stepped forward.]
[The weight of the sword in his hand felt… right.]
[Not perfect.]
[But real.]
[Physical threshold nearing completion… Plot Armour remains sealed… survival probability: low…]
Abaksa Einsro— "…Still locked."
Prince Vaelric— "Any last words?"
[Abaksa raised his blade.]
Abaksa Einsro— "Try not to disappoint me."
[Vaelric's expression twisted.]
Prince Vaelric— "Arrogant filth."
[He lunged.]
[Fast.]
[Precise.]
[Deadly.]
[Steel cut toward Abaksa's throat.]
[Time slowed.]
[Instinct took over.]
CLANG.
[The parry connected.]
[Shock ran through his arm.]
[His knees hit the ground.]
Prince Vaelric— "Is that all?"
[The prince pressed forward.]
[Strike after strike.]
[Each one heavier.]
[Each one faster.]
[Abaksa blocked.]
[Redirected.]
[Survived.]
[But barely.]
[Blood dripped from reopened wounds.]
[His breath shattered.]
[One slip—]
[And the blade pierced his side.]
Abaksa Einsro— "—!"
[He staggered.]
Prince Vaelric— "Pathetic."
[The nobles laughed.]
[The world tilted.]
[Then—]
[The ground trembled.]
CRACK.
[The dueling circle split.]
[Runes beneath the stone ignited.]
Prince Vaelric— "…What is this?"
[The earth opened.]
[A void beneath.]
[Dark.]
[Endless.]
[Hungry.]
[Abaksa fell.]
Down.
Past stone.
Past light.
Past everything.
[Impact.]
[Bone rattling.]
[Breath gone.]
[Darkness swallowed him.]
[Then—]
[Breathing.]
[Not his.]
[Six eyes opened.]
[Golden.]
[Watching.]
Sethrak— "Royal blood awakens the trial."
[The creature emerged.]
[Tiger body. Eagle wings. Talons like obsidian.]
Sethrak— "I am the first guardian."
"Prove your worth… or die forgotten."
[Abaksa forced himself up.]
[His shoulder useless.]
[His ribs screaming.]
Abaksa Einsro— "…Of course."
[The system flickered.]
[Trial initiated… survival probability: declining…]
[The creature attacked.]
[Too fast.]
[Claws tore through air where he stood a second ago.]
[He moved.]
[Instinct.]
[Bruts' training.]
[Don't block.]
[Redirect.]
[He rolled.]
[Swung.]
[The blade bounced off.]
Sethrak— "Weak."
[The darkness shifted.]
[Shapes formed.]
[Faces.]
Medir— "You failed us."
Brakka— "You led us to death."
Voices— "Weak."
[They surrounded him.]
[His past.]
[His failure.]
[His truth.]
[His knees buckled.]
[This was how it ended before.]
[Hesitation.]
[Regret.]
[Death.]
Abaksa Einsro— "…No."
[He stood.]
[Slowly.]
[Shaking.]
Abaksa Einsro— "I failed once."
"…I won't fail again."
[The illusions flickered.]
[The beast watched.]
Abaksa Einsro— "I don't need to be strong."
"…I just need to survive."
[The creature lunged.]
[This time—]
[Abaksa stepped forward.]
[Into the attack.]
[Claws tore into his shoulder.]
[He didn't stop.]
[He drove the blade upward.]
[Into the gap.]
[Blood.]
[Black.]
[Sethrak roared.]
[The chamber shook.]
Sethrak— "…Interesting."
[Its form began to dissolve.]
"You fight with cost… not strength."
"You may proceed."
[The creature vanished.]
[Silence returned.]
[The illusions faded.]
[Abaksa collapsed.]
[Breathing hard.]
[Alive.]
[Trial 1 Complete]
[Far above—]
[Light still existed.]
[Far below—]
[Something stirred.]
[Watching.]
[Waiting.]
Abaksa Einsro— "…I'm not done."
[His grip tightened on the blood-stained blade.]
"…Not this time."