"Shadows are not the absence of light—they are the proof it once existed."
— Veil Scriptures of the Sorrow Weavers
🌑 The Light Fades
As the Mourning Emissary stepped into the arena, the golden glow of the three active runes dimmed to embers.
The remaining unawakened runes pulsed faintly, as if wary of what was about to unfold.
The air thickened.
Color drained from the stone.
Even sound seemed to dull.
Jin realized this was not ordinary darkness—it was Memory Veil Shadow, an Eastern technique designed to strip away not only sight, but one's sense of self.
The Emissary's voice came softly, as though from within his own mind:
"This is not a duel of strength. This is a trial of identity.
If you forget who you are… you will not return."
🕳 Into the Veil
The arena floor dissolved beneath Jin's feet, and suddenly he was walking through a place that was both familiar and wrong.
A forest he had trained in… but the trees were upside down.
The sect courtyard where he once fought… except all the disciples had his face.
A battlefield littered with corpses… but each body was someone he had never met, calling his name.
The Emissary's veil made every memory suspect.
🧠 The First Fracture
A figure stepped from the shadows—it was Jin, younger, without scars, without burden.
"You don't need the blade," the younger Jin said. "You don't need the Gathering. Stay here. Be nothing."
Another shadow appeared—older Jin, crowned, cloaked in flames.
"Burn them all before they burn you again."
Each was a fragment of his past lives, urging him toward surrender or destruction.
The Emissary's voice whispered:
"Choose… or be consumed."
🌊 The Anchor
Jin's breath slowed.
He reached inward—not toward flame or water, but toward the thread that had been forming through all the trials.
Not power. Not conquest.
Balance.
He imagined the tide.
How it came and went, never staying, never clinging.
The younger self faded.
The crowned self dissolved.
The arena began to reform.
🐉 The Fourth Seal
The Mourning Emissary stood before him, veil rippling in a wind only she could feel.
"You did not fear the shadow. You accepted it as yours. That is rare."
A mark of black silk thread appeared on his forearm beside the other seals.
Four runes blazed now on the arena floor, and the dome of elements above trembled—the dragons stirring more strongly.
⚠ The Fifth Challenger
From the high clouds beyond the arena, a deep roar echoed.
The next trial was not announced by a sect member.
It was announced by a dragon.
A massive claw, wreathed in lightning, gripped the edge of the arena.
"The Trial of Storm is mine to give," the voice boomed. "Come, Flamebearer… let us see if you can stand against the sky itself."