The North Tower had been abandoned for decades—sealed by divine decree after an incident no one dared to speak of. But tonight, at midnight, the seal was gone.
Jiwoon stood before the gate, holding the crimson-lettered invitation.
"To the One Who Roared: Enter the Hidden Trials."
No sender. No signature. But the paper reeked of old sin and faded memory.
He placed a hand on the heavy stone door.
It didn't creak open—it shivered, like a beast awakening. A slit of shadow cracked down the middle, revealing a staircase spiraling into black.
Inside, the air grew colder with each step.
The torches lit themselves as he passed. Old stone, etched with words from a forgotten tongue, whispered as if trying to remember his name. Jiwoon felt the tension in the air shift—like something was watching, but not from outside.
From within.
Suddenly, the stairway ended in a vast underground chamber—a coliseum carved from obsidian. Floating above the center was a glowing sigil: a circle bound in seven shards.
Then a voice echoed—not aloud, but inside his head:
"Candidate detected. Access granted: Trial of Origin."
A glyph flared beneath his feet.
[Trial Initiated: Step 1 – Face the Self]
A mirror rose from the center of the arena.
Jiwoon stepped forward cautiously.
But what he saw in the reflection—wasn't him.
It was a version of himself fully consumed by sin. Black armor twisted beyond the Ebonwyrm Exordium. Ten wings. Crimson eyes. And an aura that cracked the ground just by existing.
"I'm what you'll become… if you stop pretending," the reflection said.
Jiwoon didn't answer.
Instead, he summoned a flicker of his real power. Just enough to test the air. The mirror version responded instantly—rushing forward with inhuman speed, claws extended, wings shattering the silence like blades.
The battle had begun.