The chamber felt unreal from the very beginning. A dome of endless light, its walls shifting like ripples on water, holding us all inside. I stood among dozens of others — reincarnators, regressors, and awakened mortals who had been pulled from different corners of existence. Each face was different, but every pair of eyes carried the same weight: determination, fear, or arrogance.
Some carried themselves proudly, like they had already conquered fate once and knew they could do it again. Others were quieter, holding their fear close to their chest. And then there was me — Fan Ling, with my hands clenched at my sides, my heart pounding. I tried to steady my breath, but I couldn't ignore the pressure in the air.
The system spoke. Its voice was cold, without pause or tone, as though the world itself had decided our fates.
> [All participants, prepare for your trials.]
A hush fell over us.
> [Reincarnators detected.]
[Regressors detected.]
[Notice: One irregular soul has been found.]
The words stabbed through me like knives.
> [Irregular soul not harmonized with vessel.]
[Standard trial denied. Adjusting parameters.]
[Warning: Difficulty escalating. Assigned trial: Hell → Transcendence.]
The silence broke.
"What?!" someone shouted from across the circle. His face twisted in confusion. "Why does he get a different trial?"
"This doesn't make sense," another muttered. "The system never singles someone out unless…"
Their eyes darted toward me, sharp and questioning. I wanted to shout back that I didn't know anything, that I was just as confused as them. But before words could leave my mouth, the ground split open beneath us.
Light surged upward, swallowing us whole.
I heard voices screaming as people were flung in all directions. Some were pulled toward snowy landscapes, their breath vanishing in the cold as they disappeared. Others vanished into deserts, golden sands rising like waves to consume them. More were sent into barren wastelands, empty and gray.
And me?
The light dragged me down deeper than anyone else.
When I opened my eyes again, I was kneeling on scorched earth.
The sky was black, thick with ash and smoke. The ground glowed with cracks of molten fire, bleeding heat into the air. Flames rose everywhere, twisting like serpents, hungering for anything to consume. The stench of burning flesh lingered, though I saw no corpses — only the echo of destruction.
I staggered to my feet, my throat dry. The heat pressed against my skin like a thousand needles.
"This… this isn't real," I whispered, though I knew it was.
The trial had begun.
A roar split the silence.
I spun around, heart hammering. From the flames, something crawled forward — a demon born of fire itself. Its body was shaped like a monstrous giant, molten cracks running along its chest and arms. Its teeth gleamed like blades, dripping with burning saliva, and its eyes burned with cruel, golden fire.
The earth shook with each step it took.
I yanked my sword free, though my hands trembled. The wooden grip felt weak against the heat that blistered my palms.
The demon lunged.
I slashed — desperate, untrained, wild. The steel collided with its burning claw.
Hissssss.
My sword glowed red, then bent. The heat melted through the blade, eating away at the edge until the weapon sagged like wax in my hands.
"No… no, no!"
The demon swiped again. I ducked, the claw ripping stone apart where I had just stood. The ground cracked, flames bursting upward, forcing me back.
I struck again with what was left of my weapon. The jagged edge scraped across the demon's arm, tearing a shallow gash. For one heartbeat, I thought I had succeeded.
Then the wound sealed itself, fire crawling over it, knitting flesh back together like nothing had happened.
The demon grinned.
My chest tightened. The weight of despair crushed me. I couldn't fight this. Even if I shattered what was left of my sword against its body, it wouldn't matter.
It swung again, and the force sent me crashing to the ground. My body screamed in pain. The broken blade fell from my hand, glowing uselessly against the stone.
I couldn't win.
The truth pierced through me like cold steel: I couldn't win.
My body moved before I could think. I turned and ran.
Heat scorched my back, claws raked the earth behind me, and the roars of the demon thundered in my ears. I stumbled across jagged stone, leapt over cracks spilling lava, and forced my burning lungs to keep me alive.
I dived behind a shattered boulder, my chest heaving. My palms bled where I had gripped the ruined blade too tightly. My throat burned, each breath a struggle.
I pressed myself against the rock, praying the demon would lose my trail.
But that was when I felt it.
Eyes.
Not the demon's. Something else.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze.
Across the fire, beyond the chaos, a silhouette stood.
It was tall and thin, with long, bony nails that glimmered in the red glow. Its eyes weren't golden like the demons, but crimson — deep, knowing crimson that cut straight through me. Unlike the raging monsters, it didn't move. It didn't roar.
It only watched.
My skin prickled. My chest felt heavy.
Even when I shifted behind the stone, those crimson eyes followed, never blinking. The weight of its gaze was worse than the demon's claws.
I clutched the hilt of my broken sword until my knuckles turned white, though I knew it was useless.
Run.
The voice inside me screamed again. Run. Survive.
I pushed away from the rock and sprinted again, legs trembling, vision blurred from heat and fear. Behind me, the demon's roar rose like thunder, fire bent and twisted toward me, and always — always — those crimson eyes burned into my back.
The system had promised a trial. But this was no trial.
This was a death sentence.
And I had only just begun.