In a space suffused with radiant light—neither realm nor dream—a woman stood alone. Her figure was slender, poised, wreathed in flowing garments that shimmered like moonlight on water. Yet her features were veiled in thick, drifting fog, as though the very world sought to obscure her identity.
From the far edge of the luminous expanse, a being entered. Not a man, not quite a god, but something that bore the gravity of both. Power trailed in his footsteps like echoes of thunder. His voice rumbled, deeper than oceans, laced with timeless weariness.
"Art thou certain thou wisheth to proceed, \*\*\*\*\*\*?" he asked, his tone both gentle and grave.
The woman turned her veiled face towards him, the air around her seeming to still.
"Aye," she said with quiet conviction. "My resolve hath not wavered."
"But he may perish," the being said, the words heavy with meaning and sorrow.
Her response was swift, steel beneath silk. "He shall not."
Her tone bore the finality of prophecy—unchallenged, undoubted.
---
**In the Arena**
> **Stage One: Survive**
The artificial, feminine voice reverberated through the vast chamber.
"In this stage, you must endure the wrath of foes two ranks above your current strength for the span of one minute. If you prevail, you will advance. If you fail... you die."
Lucien rolled his shoulders, his heart pounding beneath his ribs like a war drum.
"Bring it on," he said. His voice was hoarse but unshaken, eyes locked forward with blazing defiance.
From the glyphs etched into the floor, light exploded—and with it, three monstrous forms emerged. Towering ogres, each clad in ragged armor and stinking of blood and sweat. Their eyes glowed red with primal rage.
C-Rank.
They looked about with low growls, sniffing the air.
And then—they saw him.
They bellowed, a deep, guttural sound that shook the very floor.
"Shit—" Lucien hissed, already spinning on his heel.
He ran.
His legs pumped, breath shallow, every nerve screaming. The arena was vast, but not vast enough.
*To defeat a C-rank as an E-rank is naught but a madman's dream,* Lucien thought. *I have no pride to waste here. If I desire to live, I must endure.*
The ogres gave chase, their thudding steps louder than war drums. Lucien could hear them gaining.
Three seconds.
One of them reached him.
A tree-trunk arm swung through the air like a club. Lucien threw himself sideways, barely dodging the blow—and where the fist landed, stone shattered like glass.
The shockwave flung Lucien off his feet, sending him tumbling.
"Damn it!" he gasped, rolling as another ogre charged.
He scrambled upright, only for a heavy foot to slam the ground just beside him. The force sent tremors through his legs.
Another strike came—Lucien tried to parry with his arm instinctively.
*Crack!*
Pain lanced up his right arm like wildfire. He screamed, his bones shattered like twigs.
He staggered, desperate to move, but his right leg buckled as another backhanded strike caught him squarely in the thigh.
*Snap!*
He fell. Agony consumed him.
He could barely breathe, his vision swimming.
One ogre loomed over him, raising its fist to end his life.
Lucien's eyes widened.
*So this is how it ends?* he thought.
But before the blow could land—
The ogres vanished.
A brilliant light enveloped the chamber.
> **"Congratulations to the host. You have survived the first trial."**
> **"You survived. The next stage will begin in two minutes."**
Lucien gasped, eyes wide, body trembling.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
"I... survived," he whispered, voice cracking. "Barely."
Sweat drenched his brow. His limbs throbbed with pain so intense it brought tears to his eyes.
"I would have died," he murmured. "No one would have known. Not Celeste, not Seraphina... not Father."
*I cannot let this life end like the last.*
Gritting his teeth, Lucien pulled a small vial from his storage ring with his good hand. A health potion, glowing with greenish light. Then another—a stamina potion, soft blue.
He uncorked them both and drank.
The relief was slow but sure. His bones began to knit. The fire in his veins dulled to a simmer.
"Good thing I bought these," he muttered. "Else I'd be facing the next trial as a cripple."
He leaned back, exhaling as he felt strength gradually return.
Then, the chamber dimmed once more.
> **Stage Two: Slaughter**
> **"In this trial, you must wipe out an entire goblin settlement. Leave none alive."**
> **"Initiating..."**
> **1... 2... 3...**
Lucien inhaled deeply.
No panic.
No dread.
Only stillness.
His eyes, calm as the void, closed.
As the countdown reached zero, his form shimmered and vanished into the next realm.
---
Lucien reappeared on the outskirts of a sprawling goblin settlement. Dozens of tents, crude huts, and smoking bonfires dotted the landscape. At least a hundred goblins moved throughout the camp, armed with rusted blades, bows, and snarling beasts.
A foul stench rose from the place—blood, rot, and filth.
Lucien stood atop a rocky ridge overlooking the settlement. The wind tousled his hair as he surveyed the scene.
"One man against an entire tribe," he whispered. "Not ideal."
He took a slow breath and unsheathed his blade. The steel shimmered faintly under the light of the twin moons above.
His mana surged through his veins, flowing faster as adrenaline kicked in.
"Let's see what this new power can do."
He descended the ridge like a shadow. The moment his foot hit the camp's perimeter, a loud screech filled the air.
A goblin scout had spotted him.
"KYUUUU!"
The shriek was followed by a chorus of snarls and war cries. Dozens of goblins surged forward.
Lucien didn't hesitate. He leapt into their midst, sword gleaming as he spun and struck.
His first strike cleaved through two goblins, their bodies falling limp. A spear jabbed toward him—he ducked, swept the attacker's feet, and finished it with a swift stab.
More came. Arrows whistled past him. One grazed his cheek.
Lucien's movements were swift, refined. His Observation Eye tracked every enemy movement with eerie clarity. He dodged and countered, each step efficient, each attack deliberate.
But the numbers kept growing.
Minutes passed. Blood soaked the ground. Goblins screamed and died. Still, more poured from the tunnels beneath the camp.
Lucien panted, muscles burning, blade dripping crimson.
"So many..."
Then he saw it—a makeshift goblin altar at the heart of the settlement. Around it stood shamans, their chants summoning something.
Lucien dashed forward, cutting a path through the chaos.
One goblin shaman raised a staff, green light flaring.
Lucien threw a dagger.
*Thunk!*
It embedded in the creature's throat. The spell died with its caster.
He reached the altar, fire in his eyes.
With a roar, he cut down the remaining shamans.
The chanting stopped.
The goblins hesitated.
Lucien raised his sword. "You want to live? Then run."
They broke. The remaining goblins scattered in all directions and Lucien hunted them one by one easily after their formation fell.
Half an hour later
Silence returned.
Lucien dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
> **"Stage Two completed. Proceeding to next phase in two minutes."**
He looked around at the bodies, at the blood-soaked earth.
"I... did it."
And then he rose, ready for what came next.
.