Russ stood at the entrance of the Trial Chamber, heart hammering. The air inside crackled with volatile energy. This wasn't some training simulation. This was old magic. Pre-Protocol tech. Forgotten by time, remembered only by those who'd sworn never to use it again.
"Step forward," Headmaster Vexim commanded from the upper balcony.
Nova, stationed beside him, gave Russ a subtle nod. "Don't die."
Comforting, Russ thought grimly, and took his first step inside.
The doors slammed shut behind him. A deep hum pulsed through the chamber floor, like the beating heart of a massive beast. The arena was circular, with runes carved into obsidian walls. Glowing veins of violet light pulsed with Void energy.
"Begin the trial," Vexim said.
A sharp hiss echoed, and a figure stepped from the shadows.
It was… him.
No—a projection of him. But darker. Eyes pitch-black, veins laced with purple flame, and an expression of pure malice.
"The Void reflects what you are," Vexim's voice echoed. "And what you fear becoming."
The clone attacked instantly, a pulse of energy erupting from its palm. Russ barely rolled away, crashing behind a floating platform. He inhaled sharply. This wasn't just a copy—it knew how he moved, how he thought.
The clone leapt forward, swinging a fist laced with black energy. Russ blocked it with his forearm, but the impact sent him skidding across the floor. Pain flared in his ribs.
You're not ready.
You were never ready.
The clone's voice echoed in his head.
Russ clenched his teeth and stood. "If you're me… then you know what I'm capable of."
The Void stirred inside him.
Then show it, it whispered.
Russ raised his hand. This time, he didn't fight the energy. He welcomed it. The voidlight surged through his veins, wrapping around his arm like a living flame. His pupils narrowed, skin glowing with black sigils that hadn't been there a second ago.
The clone mirrored him, its energy flaring. They charged.
Impact.
Two forces collided—light and shadow, twin threads of the same power. Russ twisted midair, channeling a Void surge through his feet and launching upward. He landed behind the clone and unleashed a shockwave. The blast hurled it across the arena.
But the clone didn't stay down.
It smiled.
And then it split—into three.
Russ froze. "What the hell—"
"Face yourself," Vexim's voice boomed, "or fall to your own shadow."
All three copies attacked at once.
Russ darted to the side, barely dodging a barrage of energy spears. He punched one clone, only for it to vanish into mist. Another gripped his arm—his voice whispered again:
"You're not a hero. You're a weapon. Just like your father."
The words stung. Not because they weren't true. But because they were.
Russ shoved the clone back and screamed, channeling everything into his next strike. Voidlight erupted from him, spiraling into a black inferno that swallowed the arena.
When the light faded, the clones were gone.
And Russ stood alone.
Breathing hard. Shaking. Glowing.
The doors opened.
Nova waited. She looked him over, a mix of concern and awe in her eyes. "Well," she said, "you didn't die."
Russ walked out, chest heaving, Void energy still pulsing under his skin.
"I think I saw what I could become," he murmured.
Nova nodded. "And?"
Russ looked up at the violet sky. "I don't know if that's a good thing."