Chapter 49 – The Trial Grounds of Vhra'thael
Ethan slipped into a secluded alley, the din of the city dimming into a distant murmur. Here, beside the hushed walls of an old stone shop, time seemed to still. He leaned back against the cold, timeworn stone, exhaling as though emptying the weight of countless thoughts. he summoned the familiar glow of the system interface.
SYSTEM INTERFACE
Name: Ethan Cross (27)
Race: Human (Awakened)
Legacy: [Forgotten Empire] (partial unlock)
Title: [None]
Talent: [Will of the Crown]
Elemental Affinities: [All Elements] (Max Affinities – Tier 10)
Level: 9 (88,404 / 78,235)
Unassigned Stat Points: 0
Base Stats (Average Human Male = 1)
Strength: 20.8
Vitality: 17.8
Constitution: 18.5
Agility: 17.6
Stamina: 20.4
Intelligence: 15.0
Mana: 11.4
Skills:
[Magic Arrow] – 92% Mastery (Basic)
[Basic Longsword Technique] – 99% Mastery (Intermediate)
[Fire Ball] – 1% Mastery (Basic)
SP: 37,404
Balance: 17 Gold, 78 Silver, 46 Bronze, 70 Copper
Threshold reached. Additional XP will be stored until your Class has been assigned.
Do you want to move to Trial Grounds now?
[ Yes ] [ Later ]
Ethan's hand trembled faintly, fingers hovering above the option. A thousand questions surged within him, yet beneath them all lay one undeniable truth: fate would not wait forever. With a sharp breath, he pressed Yes.
The world around him shattered like glass spun into molten light. The alley dissolved into colors unbound—swirls of fire and night twisted together, folding space and sense into a vertigo of impossible beauty. A cold wind curled around him, whispering with voices too ancient to understand.
A pulse of power tore through him, setting every nerve alight, making his heart pound like a war drum.
And then—silence. Reality settled again.
System Notification: Transport complete. Current location: Middle Layer – Trial Grounds of Vhra'thael Expanse — Ashenveil Hold.
"Middle layer…? Not the outskirts?" Ethan's voice shook slightly as it echoed into the void. "Last time… wasn't I still in the outer layers?"
When the haze of color receded, Ethan's vision cleared, and what unfurled before him stole the very breath from his lungs.
The castle stood colossal, dominating the heavens themselves. Its walls rose higher than mountains, forged not from mere stone, but a seamless union of black metal, obsidian, and crystalline veins that refracted light like fractured stars. Beyond those walls… there was nothing. The cosmos itself seemed erased. This bastion was all that remained.
At its heart towered a monumental spire, coiled by the sculpted form of a dragon wrought in living artistry. Its scales shimmered like tempered night, etched in patterns that told of forgotten gods. Its vast wings wrapped the spire in protection, stretched in an eternal moment of flight. And its eyes—twin rubies burning with an intelligent flame—locked upon Ethan the instant he arrived. That gaze pressed into him like centuries of expectation, like the judgment of empires long dead.
The battlements bristled with jagged spires of obsidian glass that glowed with an inner fire. Silent gargoyles, carved with terrible precision, hunched upon ledges, their stony eyes gleaming as though aware, as though they watched and decided. The air was charged, oppressive, humming with energy so dense Ethan could almost taste it on his tongue: metal, ash, ancient stone.
The ground beneath his boots thrummed with a subtle vibration, a reminder that this fortress was no inert construction—it was a living relic of dominion itself. The fortress did not stand here. It reigned here.
The Voice of System
A deep chime peeled across the courtyard, resonating like the toll of a colossal iron bell. Its echo crawled through his bones, reverberated within his chest, set his blood trembling. Then, a voice rose—not spoken, but woven into the very marrow of existence.
"Welcome, Host."
Ethan froze. The tone was not mechanical, nor mortal. It was regal—burdened with the solemn authority of kings and gods alike.
"Welcome… to the Castle of Ashenveil Hold. Within these walls, the mantle of your destiny shall be forged. Here, amidst trial and blood, you will claim your Class."
The silence afterward was heavy, as though creation itself had paused to listen.
The voice deepened, its weight dragging against his soul.
"A true sovereign does not merely command… he ensures his will is manifest. A leader must carve victory from despair, not as a tyrant drunk on power, but as the pillar upon which his people rise. Among the masses, he must be unyielding, the greatest among them—not out of pride, but necessity. For the world must obey the one crowned."
Ethan's chest hollowed with awe and tension. The words felt alive, etched into the fortress itself, reverberating like scars of memory.
"Heir of the Forgotten Empire," the voice intoned, solemn yet fiery, "the burden falls now to you. Stand above all. Rule above all. A monarch bows to no one."
The declaration thundered, and the very crystalline panels above flared with fractured light, scattering shards of radiance across the courtyard. Ethan stood spellbound, shoulders weighted with expectation, yet his eyes burned with something new—resolve.
The Trials Declared
"Your trial begins now," continued the voice, calm yet merciless.
"You shall be tested—not by beasts mindless and weak, but by soldiers, warriors, by commanders, by champions. Each will embody your obstacles. Some will guide, others will shatter you. Every step will bleed the truth you hide: whether you are fit to lead, or fated to kneel."
The darkness hummed louder. The fortress itself seemed to lean closer to him, listening, judging.
"Rulers are tempered by trial. Rulers do not choose comfort—they choose sacrifice. They guard, they endure, they command. Remember this, Heir. Remember… or be forgotten."
And then, silence. Cold silence that pressed against his ears until his own heartbeat felt like thunder.
A whisper lingered in the winds, the last tether of that voice: "Good luck."
Ethan's Resolve
Ethan's pulse raced. He drew in quickened breaths, battling the storm of thoughts raging in him. He had expected a simple ritual—a divine orb, a priest's hand, a blessing. At least thats what he knew. Not this. Not a monument alive with judgment.
"So… no shortcuts. I prove myself… or I falter," he murmured, lips drawing tight. "Fine."
His hand moved to his inventory. Drawing forth the reward he had earned, the shadow-solid weapon crashed into existence before him in a coil of darkness.
The Relic – Duskfang Shadowforge Longblade
The Duskfang Shadowforge Longblade was a vision of death wrapped in elegance. The blade drank in the meager light around it; darkness clung to its edge like willing servants. Silver veins ran its length, glowing with molten dusk, as though twilight itself had been shackled within its steel.
When he swung it experimentally, shadows echoed after each motion like fleeting silhouettes.
The guard resembled fangs bared in eternal threat. The hilt, coiled in scaled leather polished to cruel brilliance, molded perfectly against his grip. Balanced. Elegant. Merciless.
The weapon thrummed in welcome, vibrating faintly against his palm, as though whispering: Together, we ascend.
[SYSTEM INTERFACE]
Item: Duskfang Shadowforge Longblade
Type: Artifact (Growth Type – B Rank)
Description: A blade that awakens as its master ascends. It knows hunger, it knows purpose, it knows battle. Its strength shall mirror its wielder's fate.
Ethan grinned faintly, the edges of doubt melting into determination. "Perfect. If I'm to prove myself, you'll be my iron witness."
He spun the blade, shadows trailing his movements, his stance gaining surety with every heartbeat.
The First Opposition
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The smooth silence was shattered. Ethan's head whipped toward the sound. From within the fortress shadows stepped three armored figures. Soldiers. Their plated steel resonated with cold authority, reflecting a distorted shimmer of the crystalline glow. Their visors glinted like eyes unblinking, soulless yet disciplined.
In perfect unison, they drew their weapons. Blades rasped, their march not faltering even for breath.
Ethan's heart thudded once, stunned. Then steady resolve surged into his veins.
"So… the dance begins," he whispered.
He raised the longblade. Its dusk-flame veins shimmered to life in solidarity.
The first trial had come.
---
A/N:
This world uses ranks to describes one power level, strength level and artifact level, F for lowest and progressively... E, D, C, B, A, S, SS, SSS, and Supreme for highest.
But equipments and weapons were based on different system, Lowest - Junk then progressively Common, Uncommon, Rare, Super Rare, Epic, Legendary, Mythic, Mythical, and Godly for highest.
There even is Unique type...but they have varied range...they can even be junk and even legendary...in what they are capable of.
There even unofficial ranks in between like in Rank A there can be A-(low), A(mid) and A+(peak) ...though they may seem one they are not...a A+ can literarily play with multiple A- and A...this disparity increases with higher power levels.