Zyren ran his fingers across the carvings again, reading the words aloud in a whisper.
"Here lies the Gate of Trials. Only the chosen may walk forward. Only the evolving shall ascend."
Chosen. Trials. Ascend.
The words echoed in his mind, freighted with meaning. They weren't arbitrary. They weren't just lore. They were commands.
Is this really a gate? A test? Or just an old myth carved into stone?
He stepped back, scrutinizing the altar. Now that he could read the script, he realized the entire temple was inscribed with records—not merely decorative. Every surface bore something: walls, pillars, even the fractured floor.
Moving closer to one of the pillars, he brushed away moss and dirt. To his surprise, the symbols flared faintly at his touch, glowing like embers awakening from slumber. Slowly, the meaning unraveled in his mind.
"Those who awaken shall be judged. The first step is survival. The second strength. The third, wisdom. Pass, and ascend. Fail, and be erased."
Zyren's heart skipped.
Judged? Erased? This isn't a simple temple. It's a test. But for what?
Was it meant for him, or anyone who came here?
He circled the temple, his eyes scanning every inscription he could now comprehend. Above, the broken dome bore the faint remains of a mural. Figures stepped through a gate of light—some rising triumphant, others falling into darkness. The imagery was simple yet merciless: success or destruction, with nothing in between.
The altar itself pulsed faintly when he touched it again. This time, more words lit up across its surface.
[System Notice]
Gate of Trials: Inactive.
Requirement: Recognition of the Chosen.
Zyren stiffened.
Recognition of the Chosen? What does that even mean? Am I supposed to prove myself? Or does the system itself decide?
He turned his gaze downward. At first, the stone floor before the altar seemed ordinary—cracked, weathered, ancient. But now that his eyes were sharpened, he saw it clearly. Faint markings formed a circle, etched deep into the ground, pulsing with the same faint glow as the inscriptions.
A ritual circle. Or maybe… the gate itself.
He crouched low, brushing dirt and broken leaves aside. The words inscribed at its edge rearranged themselves in his mind.
"Step forward, and the Gate shall measure your worth."
His pulse quickened. The choice was obvious, but by no means easy.
On one hand, he could leave the temple. Find food, rest, and come back stronger. On the other hand, he could step into the circle now—blind and unprepared—and face whatever this "trial" demanded of him.
This is reckless. I barely survived a slime. How could I survive what's inside this Gate?
Yet another thought surfaced, sharper, undeniable.
If this world's unforgiving, maybe the only way forward is through.
He leaned against a pillar, steadying his mind. His stomach twisted with hunger, his body weak from the storm, but beneath it all, something fierce awakened.
If the system put me here, maybe it's a purpose, not a coincidence. If this Gate needs the chosen, perhaps it's me.
He exhaled deeply. The sound echoed in the hollow temple, swallowed by silence.
[System Notice]
Trial Protocol Detected.
Activation requires the candidate's consent.
Zyren's eyes widened.
So it really is waiting for me.
He stepped closer to the circle. The inscriptions glowed brighter with each step. His reflection shimmered faintly on the polished stone at its center, distorted by the light. He clenched his fists.
Consent... huh? No one forced me to die or transmigrate. But now, I get to make a choice.
His voice was steady as he whispered into the air:
"I'll do it. Activate the Gate."
The temple trembled. Dust fell from the cracked dome as the inscriptions around the chamber flared with sudden brilliance. The circle before the altar blazed like molten fire, lines of energy racing outward until the whole temple pulsed with life.
[Gate of Trials: Activation Commencing]
Candidate: Zyren
Stage One: Survival
The floor beneath him shuddered. The circle erupted in light. Zyren gasped as the world tore away. The stone walls of the temple dissolved into ash. The shattered dome crumbled into sparks. The night sky vanished.
When the light faded, he stood on a vast, barren plain, the horizon stretching unbroken in every direction. Above, a blood-red sky churned with storms, and the air reeked of danger.
The system's voice resonated in his mind, calm and merciless.
[Trial of Survival Initiated]
Objective: Endure until dawn
Warning: Failure results in erasure
Zyren's breath hitched.
Endure until dawn? That doesn't sound so bad.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, the ground beneath him began to rumble. Dark shapes crawled from the cracks—beasts of shadow, their forms shifting, eyes glowing with hunger.
Dozens. No, hundreds!
They closed in, the plain alive with claws scraping stone.
Zyren clenched his fists, his pulse thundering.
No weapons. No allies. Just me. Survive until dawn, or die again.
The first shadow beast lunged.
Zyren moved.
As the shadow beast lunged, its body rippled like smoke given flesh.
Zyren's body moved before his mind. He raised his fist and swung. The blow landed, but instead of flesh, his knuckles struck resistance—like hitting packed fog. The beast reeled briefly, then reformed, its glowing eyes glinting with hunger.
Damn it… punching shadows? What am I even thinking?
Another beast circled from the left, its claws gleaming with unnatural sharpness. Zyren ducked instinctively, the swipe tearing through the air where his head had been. He rolled back, kicking against the cracked earth, putting distance between him and the swarm.
Then, he ran.
Every instinct screamed at him. This wasn't a fight he could win. He needed space, a weapon, anything at all. His feet pounded the barren earth, the red sky above glaring in silence as the horde chased.
Think. Think. It's a trial. That means it's possible to survive. If the system wanted me dead, it could've erased me instantly. This trial exists to be survived.
The beasts snarled behind him, their claws scratching against stone, their footsteps blending into one endless rhythm of pursuit.
Zyren's lungs burned, his legs dragged, but his mind raced. He scanned the ground—jagged rocks, twisted roots jutting from cracks, shards of obsidian—nothing sharp enough, nothing solid enough to wield as a weapon.
He turned sharply, swinging his fist again at the nearest beast. His knuckles grazed its form, the strike breaking it apart for only a heartbeat before it reformed, snarling louder than before.
Physical blows don't work. Not enough. Then… what else do I have?
The answer came immediately.
Absorption.
His only skill. His only chance.
He clenched his hand, forcing his will into it. The familiar pull of Absorption stirred within him, and he thrust his palm against the beast as it lunged.
[Skill Activated: Absorption]
For a split second, he felt it — the beast's form wavering, the black smoke of its body pulling toward his hand. But then the system's cold reply rang in his head.
[Absorption Failed]
Target exceeds current capacity.
The beast roared, hurling him aside. Zyren tumbled, dirt choking his mouth, pain lancing his chest. He spat blood from his lip.
Too strong. It's not that Absorption doesn't work… It's that I'm too weak to use it.
He scrambled to his feet, barely dodging another swipe. The horde was closing in.
So what now? I can't kill them. I can't absorb them. Do I just run until dawn?
It was possible. Maybe the trial wasn't about killing them, but enduring them. But the way the beasts moved, the way they circled him like wolves, told him otherwise. They weren't going to let him run forever.
The ground cracked again, and more beasts crawled free, their glowing eyes multiplying in the darkness. Dozens became hundreds.
Zyren's breath came fast, his heart hammering in his chest. His fists tightened until his nails dug into his palms.
No. There has to be a way. There's always a way. If I can't absorb them now… then I need to find something, anything, to lower their strength. Or maybe… something else I can absorb first.
He glanced around the plain desperately. The trial wasn't random — every trial had rules, structure, and design. If the system wanted him to endure, it had to give him a path, a chance.
His eyes fixed on obsidian shards scattered across the ground, their surfaces shimmering, pulsing with the beasts' energy.
His pulse quickened.
Those shards… could it be? If they're made of the same essence, maybe I can absorb them. Perhaps that will give me what I need to fight back.
The beasts circled tighter, their growls rising, their hunger pressing down on him like a physical weight.
Zyren gritted his teeth, backing toward the nearest shard. His whole body trembled, every instinct screaming to keep running, to keep dodging, but his mind refused.
This is my only chance. If I can't fight them now… I'll make myself able to.
He crouched low, stretching his hand toward the shard of obsidian, willing his skill to respond.
[Skill Activated: Absorption]
The shard pulsed, light flowing into his palm. The beasts roared, sensing the shift, lunging all at once.
Zyren's vision blurred as the Absorption took hold.
Please work… please…
The world narrowed to his pounding heart, the glow of the shard, and the shadows rushing toward him.