"Cover!"
The shout echoed through the cave, sharp and desperate. Students scattered in the opposite direction, panic overriding any thought of teamwork.
What was supposed to be another routine easy dungeon dive had turned into a bloodbath the moment a dozen A-rank mutated ants swarmed them.
In the chaos, a young man fought to stay alive.
Alexander clutched his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers. His mana pool was already drained and he had already spent most of it on a few pitiful fireball spell that barely slowed the monsters.
He stumbled deeper into the dark cavern, cold sweat dripping down his face, legs screaming in protest.
Alexander was nothing more than an orange core mage with an affinity to fire, a farmer's son who had only entered the academy thanks to his freakishly high entrance exam score. A charity admission, the others called it.
But despite his lack of talent, he carried a dream that burned brighter than any flame he could conjure. To stand at the peak of the magic world as the strongest.
It can't end like this, he thought, dragging himself farther from the screams of his classmates.
A sudden wave of vertigo hit him. His head spun as a pulse of mana surged through the cave.
Alexander stopped. His eyes darted around, searching for the source of the fluctuation.
And then it happened.
Colors appeared into his vision. Trails of mana streaked across the air, glowing threads winding through the darkness.
His breath caught.
Mana Vision…?
That spell was far beyond him, reserved for blue core mages and above. He shouldn't even be able to comprehend it, let alone cast it.
Then, in the corner of his eye, he saw it: a golden trail, so blindingly bright it hurt to look at. And yet, instead of fear, an irresistible pull tugged at his chest.
His legs moved before his mind could resist, carrying him down a narrow passage.
Whispers brushed against his ears as he walked, thousands of voices overlapping in a language he couldn't understand. The voices should have terrified him but instead, it only urged him more to go forward.
The concept of time went out the window the moment he started following the mana trial but at last, he reached it.
A giant steel door, ancient and cold, stood before him. A strange symbol was carved deep into the metal, pulsing faintly with light.
The whispers grew louder. Maddening. Overwhelming.
Alexander raised a trembling hand but before he could push, the door creaked open on its own.
Darkness. A void so absolute it devoured even the golden trail at his feet.
He stood at the threshold, every instinct screaming to turn back.
And yet he didn't… something within that abyss was waiting for him.
The whispers pressed harder against his mind, clawing at his sanity. A thousand voices spoke at once, their meaning impossible to grasp yet somehow, he felt a single truth within them.
Step inside.
Every rational part of him screamed to turn back. To retreat, to find his group, to cling to life just a little longer.
But another part of him born from years of hunger for something more, scorn, and endless nights staring at the stars above his family's farm urged him forward.
If he turned back now, he would die as nothing.
If he stepped forward…
He clenched his fists. "I won't end here."
And with that, Alexander crossed the threshold.
The steel door slammed shut behind him with a deafening boom and the concept of the ground vanished.
The fall went on for what he felt like an eternity before pain brought him back to reality.
Alexander's body hit the ground with a bone-breaking impact. His vision spiralled as he gasped for air, the void gone, replaced by solid stone beneath him.
He forced himself upright, ignoring the sting of the wound in his stomach. The chamber he now stood in was vast and empty, lit only by the faint glow of runes etched into the floor. The walls bled into shadow, endless and suffocating.
Then the whispers returned.
Survive… or perish.
Instantly, his body healed on itself and the fatigue and pain from the wound disappeared.
He touched where the wound was a moment ago and it vanished like it was not even there in the first place.
His shock was replaced by confusion when shapes emerged from the edge of the room. At first, Alexander thought they were shadows of the other students pulled into this nightmare. But when the light touched them, his heart sank.
They were him.
Dozens of copies, each one carrying his own face, his own ragged black hair, his own trembling hands. Yet their eyes were different. Hard, mocking, and filled with disdain.
One of them stepped forward, lips curling into a sneer.
"Look at you."
Another voice came from behind him. "An orange core mage who thinks he can stand at the top. What a joke."
The others joined in, circling him. Their voices overlapped like a swarm of knives scraping against his ears.
"You only got into the academy because they pitied you."
"Red core evaluation, what a disgrace."
"A farmer's son with no gift, no bloodline, no future."
"Run back home, Alexander. This isn't your world."
Their words bit deeper than any wound. Alexander stumbled back.
He raised a hand and forced out a fireball, his bread and butter spell. The tiny flame sputtered forward but died the moment it left his palm. The chamber echoed with laughter.
"Pathetic."
One illusion lunged forward and swung a fist into his face. Pain exploded across his jaw. He staggered back, wiping blood from his lips. Before he could recover, another slammed a knee into his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs.
The illusions didn't fight like hollow shadows. They hit with weight, with precision. They were stronger than him in every way.
Alexander tried to swing back, driving his fist into one's chest. His punch connected, but it felt like striking solid stone. The illusion did not even flinch.
"Too weak."
A kick swept his legs out from under him. He fell hard, the cold stone scraping against his skin.
The circle of illusions closed in, their voices louder, heavier, until it felt like his skull would split apart.
"You'll never be strong."
"You'll never escape what you are."
"You'll die here, forgotten."
Alexander pressed his palms against the ground, trying to push himself up. His arms trembled. His chest heaved. For a moment, he wanted to believe them.
The memories came back to him immediately. The villagers' pity when he spoke of becoming a mage, the academy students whispering "charity admission" behind his back, the endless nights staring at the stars from his father's farm, promising himself he'd find more than this.
He tasted blood in his mouth, thick and bitter.
His voice cracked, barely audible.
"No."
The illusions tilted their heads, mocking smiles widening.
Alexander's fingers curled into fists. His voice rose, shaking, but stronger.
"I won't stop here. I don't care if you call me talentless. I don't care if you laugh. I'll prove you all wrong. I'll prove myself wrong."
A heat stirred inside him. At first, he thought it was the pain. But no…it was deeper, alive, pulsing from his chest.
Not his stomach, where his mana core should have been. His heart.
The warmth spread, a current unlike anything he had ever felt before. Purer. Sharper. Each pulse of his heartbeat sent power through his mana veins.
The nearest illusion stepped forward to strike him down, but Alexander's instincts screamed. He thrust out his hand and fire exploded from his palm.
It wasn't the weak, sputtering flame he knew. This was different. Bright. Fierce. It roared across the chamber, slamming into the illusion's chest and scattering it into smoke.
The others froze for a moment. Their smirks faltered.
Alexander's chest burned, but it wasn't painful. It was power. He raised both hands and pulled at the energy flowing from his heart. Flames gathered, swirling into his palms. His whole body shook from the effort, but the fire obeyed.
The illusions screamed and rushed him all at once.
Alexander met them head-on. He thrust forward both hands, unleashing twin arcs of fire that split the darkness. Instinctively launching spells he was unfamiliar with. Two illusions dissolved in the blast. Another swung from the side, but Alexander ducked low, his fighting instincts sharper than before, and slammed a fist coated in fire into its stomach. The figure disintegrated with a howl.
Their voices grew harsher as their numbers dwindled.
"You'll burn yourself out."
"You'll never last."
But Alexander no longer listened.
He moved, striking, dodging, and casting. Each flame that burst from his hands felt heavier, more taxing, yet stronger than anything he had ever cast before. His body screamed in protest, but his heart pumped harder, forcing the power through.
One illusion leapt at him from above, but Alexander spun and hurled a searing firebolt straight through its chest. Another tried to flank him, but he clenched his fist and ignited a burst of flame that engulfed it entirely.
The chamber filled with smoke and firelight. One by one, the illusions vanished, their taunts fading into silence.
At last, only a single figure remained.
It stood at the edge of the chamber, arms folded, watching him with cold eyes. Its voice was quieter, steadier.
"You think one spark changes anything? You are still weak. Still nothing."
Alexander staggered forward, fire flickering faintly in his palms. His whole body ached. His heart pounded like a war drum.
"Maybe I am weak," he said, his voice hoarse. "But I'm not nothing. Not anymore."
He thrust out his hand one final time. The last illusion shattered under the weight of a blazing torrent.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Alexander fell to one knee, gasping for air. His body trembled, the last traces of fire fading from his hands.
Then the runes across the floor lit up again, softer this time. A shadow rose above him, dark and looming, taking the shape of a dragon with wings spread wide. Its molten-gold eyes bore into him.
"The weight of doubt no longer chains you," the voice rumbled, deep and resonant. "There will be more trials awaiting but you have faced yourself and endured."
The dragon's gaze shifted to his chest.
"The heart is your core. That is where your strength lies. Do not forget this."
Alexander tried to speak, but his voice was caught in his throat. The shadow dragon lowered its head slightly, a gesture that felt like recognition, before fading into the air.
The runes dimmed. The chamber fell silent once more.
Alexander slumped to the ground, every muscle screaming for rest. His eyelids grew heavy, darkness creeping at the edges of his vision.
But even as he slipped into unconsciousness, he could feel the steady thrum of his heart, pumping pure mana through his veins.
For the first time, he didn't feel empty.
The first trial was over.