**Chapter: The Trial of Echoes and Truth**
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High above the dungeon, hidden beyond the veil of space, several mystic beings watched in silence. Their forms shimmered like constellations, vast and unknowable. A few whispered in celestial tongues.
> "So... he is the one chosen by \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*."
> "The pattern is breaking. She was right to watch him."
> "We must not interfere... not yet."
Below, in the heart of the ancient dungeon, the air shifted.
Lucien was teleported without warning. One moment standing in silence, the next—thrust into a crimson corridor, heat clinging to his skin like a second layer.
The four trials did not wait for his decision. They pulled him from one path to another, each demanding something raw and honest from him.
The first path was forged in fire and fury. The walls bled heat, and the red mist burned his throat. He stepped forward cautiously—and the ground split.
From the smoke emerged a towering figure, armored in black, dragging a heavy sword. It was Caelum—at least, a cruel version of him.
> "You think you've earned the right to stand beside me?" the illusion sneered. "You're weak. Always have been."
Lucien gritted his teeth. "You're not real."
> "Real enough to break you."
The battle was savage, echoing the brutal lessons of his youth. But Lucien didn't fight with anger. He moved with grace, remembering Maeve's teachings and his own growth. The moment he stopped trying to match his father's brutality and instead carved his own rhythm, the illusion shattered. A burning fragment floated in the air—the **Sigil of Rage**.
Then the fire vanished, and the air turned cool.
A moonlit glade greeted him next. Soft petals drifted across a still lake. The wind carried the scent of lavender and sorrow.
"Mom..."
His mother stood near the water's edge, her white dress glowing like starlight.
> "My little star," she said gently. "You've grown."
Lucien rushed forward, falling to his knees before her.
"I wasn't there," he choked. "I wasn't strong enough."
She knelt beside him, brushing a tear from his cheek.
> "You were a child. You did nothing wrong."
He sobbed quietly, holding onto the illusion, even knowing it wasn't truly her. But as he let go—not of her memory, but of the guilt—the glade brightened.
> "You carry my memory, Lucien. That is enough."
As she faded, the **Sigil of Sorrow** bloomed like a flower of light in the center of the lake.
Next came the darkness.
Mirrors. Endless mirrors, reflecting every fear, every secret.
Celeste—dying.
Maeve—abandoning him.
Seraphina—cursing his name.
And finally, himself. Older. Crueler. Standing over a field of corpses.
> "You're afraid of what you could become," said the reflection. "Just like Noah. Just like the villain."
Lucien stepped forward, fists clenched.
"I'm not him."
> "But you're walking the same path."
The mirrors twisted, showing visions of domination, manipulation, betrayal. The reflection attacked.
Lucien fought not with brute strength, but with belief—his dream to carve a better ending, not a perfect one. With a roar, he shattered the final mirror and took the **Sigil of Fear** from the shards.
The last trial was the most deceptive.
A hall of crystal. Applause. Light. Nobles knelt. Warriors praised. Beautiful faces smiled. At the end of it all—Lucien himself, robed in gold, sitting on a throne.
> "You deserve it," the illusion said. "The fame. The power. You've earned this."
He walked past the crowd slowly, their cheers echoing in his chest.
Then he laughed.
"I don't need thrones. I need people who understand me."
The illusion cracked. The **Sigil of Pride** shone brightly in his palm.
When the four sigils were gathered, Lucien was returned to the central platform. The statues accepted his offerings. The ground rumbled. A spiral staircase of light formed, descending into the unknown.
Lucien followed it.
---
The chamber at the bottom was unlike anything he had seen.
A floating sphere in a sea of stars. The glassy floor shimmered with constellations below. Three glowing orbs hovered ahead:
The first burned red—the **Flamebearer**, symbol of passion, destruction, and will. Those who walked this path wielded fire not only as an element, but as a driving force of change. Impulsive, powerful, untamed.
The second shimmered silver—the **Mirror**, a path of introspection and emotional mastery. It favored clarity, truth, and mental resilience. The Mirror was for those who turned pain into wisdom.
The third glowed blue—the **Architect**, calm and deliberate. It represented structure, foresight, and control. Architects built legacies, shaped futures, and never rushed.
> *"Stage 4: Forge of Truth. Choose your path."*
The voice echoed again.
Lucien hesitated. His eyes darted between the orbs.
Then—footsteps.
A second Lucien emerged. His face cold. Eyes like knives.
> "You already chose," the reflection said. "You chose to reject fate. To reshape everything. But you're scared of what that means."
"You're not me."
> "I am every truth you bury. Every fear you won't admit. I am the one who knows what you're capable of."
They clashed.
The reflection fought using all three paths—burning strikes of fury, precise counters of logic, feints born from emotional insight. He was overwhelming.
Lucien stumbled back, blood on his lips. The system repeated:
> *"Choose your path."*
He clenched his fists.
"No."
Mana flared.
"I choose all of them."
Astralis Mana surged through his body. Red, silver, and blue light danced across his skin. He didn't pick a path—he forged them into one.
The orbs shattered.
Power exploded.
His strikes turned fluid, adaptive, devastating. Fire with form. Clarity with courage. Vision with vulnerability.
He disarmed his reflection.
And instead of striking the final blow, he stepped forward.
> "You're me. And that's okay."
The reflection smiled. And vanished.
---
The stars outside blinked.
> *"Path selection denied."*
> *"Divergence registered."*
> *"New trait generated: Forgeborn Soul (E)."*
> *Trait Effect: Enables fusion of multiple growth paths. Unique techniques unlocked. Further path evolution possible.*
> *"Stage 4: Completed."*
Lucien collapsed to one knee, exhausted and glowing faintly.
Not chosen.
But choosing himself.
And for now, the dungeon was silent.
A/N:The next chapter will have three Trials instead of two,*sighs*My brain hurts just by thinking about what will happen after this.Thank for reading,meet you later.