Several days later, the day of the Awakening Ceremony had arrived. All eligible candidates gathered inside a massive coliseum at the heart of the citadel, thousands standing in neat rows beneath the watchful eyes of officials and spectators. Courage stood among them, silent and withdrawn, a lone figure amid the sea of nervous whispers and hushed gossip. The murmurs died as a speaker stepped onto the central platform, demanding silence before launching into the usual tedious preamble—words from honored officials, empty encouragement, ceremonial formalities. Courage ignored it all, his mind focused instead on what he knew of the ritual ahead.
The Awakening Ceremony was designed to unlock a Catalyser's dormant power and awaken their Totem Beast. By subjecting the body to the energy of the Casam, the soul would be forced into its Domain for the first time, where it has to overcome a unique Trial to succeed. Pass, and the Totem Beast would be born; fail, and the attempt would end in weakness or outright ruin. But while the basics were common knowledge—taught in every school—the finer details were what truly mattered. The nature of the Trial was different for every person, impossible to predict. The type of Totem Beast awakened was tied to countless factors, making it just as unpredictable. And though you couldn't choose your beast, you could influence its quality—but only through sheer performance during the Trial.
Aptitude set the baseline, determining the minimum strength of the Totem Beast one could awaken. Those blessed with high aptitude had it easy; even doing the bare minimum would grant them a powerful companion. But for those like Courage, with meager natural gifts, Thier paths was far more brutal. Low aptitude meant a weaker starting point, forcing them to push far beyond their limits just to reach mediocrity. And the risks didn't end there. Passing the initial success threshold meant awakening was possible—but stopping there meant settling for what little the world had deemed you worthy of. Pushing further offered a chance at greater power… but failure meant a crippled Totem Beast, or worse, a shattered awakening.
At this thoughts Courage clenched his fists "a low grade totem beast ain't going to cut it , if I want the slightest chance to make it as a beast catalyser I have to either go big or go home ."
The thought burned in his heart,excelling at his awakening was probably his only chance to try and make up for his low aptitude and unlike before he not leaving it for luck to decide
After an hour of waiting, the ceremony finally began. The participants were instructed to follow their guides to their designated locations—underground chambers lined with rows of sleek, pod-like capsules. These were stasis units, designed to sustain their bodies while their minds journeyed elsewhere. One of them had Courage's name on it .
He climbed into the cold iron cradle, and the hatch sealed shut behind him with a hiss, making him flinch. A dim, soothing light filled the capsule, and an automated voice chimed:
"Greetings, participant. Are you ready to begin?"
Courage inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, trying to steady his nerves. Determination burned in his chest, but beneath it flickered raw, clawing anxiety. After a few seconds, he gritted his teeth and answered:
"Let's do this."
"Affirmative. Initiating Casam energy infusion in 3… 2… 1… Begin."
At first, there was only a faint hum—a current buzzing through the air, subtle, almost gentle. That's it? he thought, bewildered.
But Then it hit.
His entire nervous system erupted in a storm of sensation—fire and ice, pressure and weightlessness, a thousand needles and a crushing void—all at once. His mind reeled, drowning in the flood. It hadn't even been five seconds, and already, his consciousness frayed at the edges. He fought to hold on, teeth grinding, muscles locking—but resistance was futile.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
After an unknowable stretch of time, consciousness flickered back to life in Courage's mind, dragging him from the void's embrace. Sensation returned gradually - first a tingling in his fingertips, then the weight of his limbs, his body caught in the paradox of feeling both battered and weightless. Before he could ponder this strange state, he fought to open his eyes, his vision swimming in a blurry haze. With a groan, he rolled onto his side, blinking rapidly as the world slowly sharpened into focus.
After several minutes of disoriented struggle, Courage finally found his footing. Rising unsteadily, he took stock of his surroundings. As right now he stood in the heart of an impossibly lush forest, the ground blanketed in moist earth and emerald moss. Towering ancient trees surrounded him, their massive trunks so wide it would take half a dozen men to encircle them, stretching upward until they vanished into the distant canopy above. The spacing between these arboreal giants allowed golden sunlight to filter through the humid air, creating luminous shafts that looked like cascading silk.
Yet for all its breathtaking beauty, the forest held an unsettling silence. No birdsong, no rustling leaves, no insect hums - just an oppressive, unnatural quiet that set Courage's nerves on edge. The complete absence of life combined with his isolation threatened to summon panic, but he quickly steeled himself. "It's okay," he muttered, "this is your domain. Nothing can hurt you here." The sound of his own voice, however small, helped anchor him in this strange reality.
With his composure regained, Courage turned his attention to the task at hand. Though the awakening process didn't come with instructions, he knew his domain would provide clues. "Alright," he said, squaring his shoulders, "time to look for signs of my trial." His footsteps crunched softly on the mossy ground as he began his exploration, eyes scanning the magnificent yet eerily silent forest for any hints
Courage moved through the endless forest, his senses sharpened for anything unusual. The towering trees stood like silent sentinel as he wandered, their moss-covered roots weaving patterns across the damp earth. Time seemed suspended in this strange realm, with only his own footsteps breaking the unnatural quiet.
Then, through a gap in the ancient trunks, he spotted it - a small clearing that hadn't been there moments before. His breath hitched as he approached the tree line, each step more cautious than the last. There, on the far side of the clearing, something waited.
Stones.
Not like the random scatterings he passed earlier, but an unmistakably deliberate arrangement. Someone - or something - had stacked them carefully into a pedestal, topped with a perfectly flat circular stone. A seat , a throne or perhaps an altar.
Courage felt icy fingers trace down his spine. The forest's oppressive silence now felt like a held breath, the very air thick with expectation. The unnatural structure seemed to pulse with silent invitation, its presence both a question and a demand.
His instincts screamed against it, every muscle tensed for flight. Yet what choice did he have? This was clearly no accident of nature - it was a sign, perhaps the trial's beginning. Swallowing hard, Courage forced himself forward.
Each step toward the stone stool made his skin prickle. As he drew near, he could see the careful craftsmanship - the way each stone fit perfectly, the smooth surface of the seat worn as if by generations of use. His hand hovered over it, hesitating.
The domain waited. Watching.
With a final steadying breath, Courage made his decision.