I was drowning in silence.
No body. No breath. No pain.
Just awareness, floating in a black void.
For a moment, I thought the cave had crushed me. That my bones were gone. That death had finally taken me.
But then—
The pain vanished.
The darkness broke.
A faint light appeared, pulsing far away. Cold, steady. Not the fire of torches… but something inside me.
I reached for it. Fingers I didn't have began to form, sketching themselves into existence. My body rebuilt itself, piece by piece.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a flat stone floor.
Around me stretched a sky of storm clouds—swirling, endless, alive with thunder.
And there, in the center… was the sword.
It stood alone, buried in the stone, glowing faint red. Its voice rang inside my head.
"You have awakened. You survived the first trial: death itself."
I staggered to my feet. My throat was dry.
"You… you're the one speaking to me?"
The blade pulsed, like a heartbeat.
"I am no mere metal. I am an heirloom of ages long gone. Only through trials can one claim me."
My chest tightened. Fear and fire twisted together.
"…What's next?"
The ground split open.
Air howled beneath my feet.
I fell.
Screaming.
Dragged into the storm.
And then—
I was standing again.
This time, inside a forest.
But the trees were wrong. Too tall. Too dark. Their leaves black as ash. Lightning tore through the sky above, carving shadows across the ground.
In the distance, a narrow path stretched between the trees. At its entrance stood a statue of a knight, holding a sword identical to mine.
The voice returned.
"The second trial… The Trial of Will. Here, every weakness in your heart will take form. If you cannot overcome yourself, you will never leave alive."
I stepped forward.
The earth shuddered.
The statue cracked.
And from the stone… stepped a figure.
It was me.
Taller. Stronger. Eyes black as void. A twisted smile on his lips.
"I am your weakness," he said. His voice was my voice—darker, sharper.
"Your fear. Your failure. Every time you doubted yourself, I was born. Now, I am here to end you."
He moved. Faster than I could breathe.
His fist was a hammer of stone. I raised my blade. The impact rattled through my bones, throwing me to my knees.
He laughed—a sound like thunder.
"You're not ready. You're just a child chasing a dream that isn't yours."
The words cut deeper than the blow. My hands trembled. My chest grew heavy. He wasn't just striking with power—he was striking with every moment I'd doubted myself.
Every failure. Every fear. Every voice that told me I'd never be enough.
But then—
I remembered.
The skeleton's words. "Humans think they have a chance."
And my answer. "This page isn't closed yet."
I pushed myself up. Fire roared in my veins.
"Maybe I am weak. Maybe I've fallen a thousand times. But I always get up. That's why I'll never be you."
I charged.
Our blades clashed, sparking light into the storm. His strikes shattered the earth. Mine carved through the shadows.
He blocked the first blow.
Shattered the ground with the second.
But I didn't stop.
Every swing tore through another piece of him—another memory of failure. Another chain of doubt.
Then the opening came.
I drove my sword into his chest.
Light burst from the wound. He screamed—my scream, twisted and broken—and shattered into ash.
The forest trembled. Trees collapsed. The sky ripped open with a blinding vortex of light.
The sword in my hand blazed crimson. The voice thundered again.
"You have passed the second trial. But remember… the hardest lies ahead. The third trial awaits. It is not a battle of strength, but of truth itself."
The vortex swallowed me.
White light consumed everything.
And I knew—
what waited next could either break me completely…
or make me stronger than ever.