Leon was about to go into his room to sleep, steeling himself for the trial that awaited him at dawn. In this world, trials began when one's mind entered a state of deep rest—transporting both body and soul into another dimension, where the true test would unfold.
"Leon…" Paul's voice trembled as he spoke, his hand gently resting on Elena's shoulder. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her heart quivering with fear. Both parents knew the peril that awaited their son. Once Leon entered the trial, his body would follow his soul into that realm—and if he were to die there, his life in this world would end as well.
Noticing their sorrow, Leon smiled softly, trying to reassure them. "Don't worry, Dad. Mom," he said with quiet confidence. "Don't forget—I'm the son of the Sword God and the Fairy Saint."
His grin carried a calm yet unshakable strength—the kind born from a heart determined to protect those he loved.
Paul and Elena exchanged a glance. Seeing the light of determination in their son's eyes eased their fears, even if only a little. Worrying further would do no good—they could only trust that he would return safely to them.
"You're right, son," Paul said with a faint smile. "Just remember everything we talked about earlier."
"My dear Leon," Elena whispered, her voice trembling with tenderness, "your father and I will be right here, waiting for you—no matter how long it takes."
Leon nodded firmly. After bidding them goodnight, he lay down on his bed, letting the memories of their conversation flow through his mind. His parents had told him everything about their own first trials—what they had endured, what they had learned—and he carried those lessons with him as he closed his eyes.
Paul found himself in a world both strange and familiar. He was surrounded by people who treated him as though they had known him for years. At first, he was confused—it all felt too real, too natural. But as the days passed, realization dawned upon him: he had been transported into another world, reborn as a mercenary.
In that world, he was given a single, impossible mission—to slay a winged angel.
The battle that followed was a nightmare of light and blood. The angel was a being of overwhelming might, and one by one, Paul's comrades fell beneath its radiant wings. Despite the despair, Paul fought on—not for glory, but for survival.
When the final blow was struck, he stood alone amidst the ruins, surrounded by the bodies of his fallen allies. The victory felt hollow. What remained etched in his heart was not triumph, but grief.
Yet his courage and resolve did not go unnoticed. The God of War himself descended to recognize Paul's unyielding spirit, bestowing upon him an honorary Divine Title for his bravery.
It took two long years for Paul to complete that trial—and even longer for the emotional wounds to heal. The memory of that battle remained carved into his soul, a reminder of both the price of victory and the weight of survival.
Elena's trial, on the other hand, began in a realm of breathtaking beauty—the Kingdom of Aenarion, homeland of the elves.
There, she was reborn as an elven princess, surrounded by silver forests and shimmering lakes that reflected the twin suns above. It was paradise—perfect, serene, and dreamlike.
At first, she believed she had been blessed. Every moment was filled with warmth, love, and peace. But as time passed, something began to feel wrong. Her memories of the real world—her family, her purpose, her very identity—began to fade. In their place, new memories took root, weaving her deeper into the illusion.
The comfort was intoxicating. She nearly surrendered to it, ready to forget who she truly was. But in a fleeting instant, her true self broke through the dream. She remembered—this was a trial.
In that moment of awakening, Elena activated her first skill granted to her upon entering that world: Creation Flame.
As its name suggested, it was a power capable of burning through illusions, corruption, and even the soul itself. Channeling her will, she ignited her body in holy fire, purging the false paradise that had ensnared her mind.
When she awoke, she found herself enclosed in a cocoon of light, trembling and weak—but free.
Before her stood the architect of her illusion: a silver-winged angel with a voice as gentle as sin. Unlike Paul's foe, this angel was no warrior. It was a deceiver—one that trapped its victims in eternal dreams and fed upon their souls.
Realizing she had nearly been consumed, Elena's anger flared. With a single burst of her Creation Flame, she burned the creature to ash, leaving behind nothing but scorched feathers.
Her trial lasted only four weeks, far shorter than Paul's two-year ordeal. Yet the difference in time spoke volumes—Paul's foe, a winged battle angel, was far stronger, a being of Yellow Core Aether. Elena's opponent was weaker, but far more insidious, preying on the heart rather than the blade.
Even so, her willpower and purity shone bright enough to catch the attention of the Earth God, who descended to honor her. In recognition of her courage, she was granted an honorary Heavenly Title—
"The Fairy Saint."
As Leon thought of his parents' suffering, he couldn't help but curse the gods for their cruelty—for forcing mortals to play in their twisted games.
In his past life as the Heavenly Demon, many had revered him as a god. Yet unlike these false deities, he had been willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of his people.
But Leon could do nothing now. The words of the gods in this world were absolute.
"I'll rest for now," he murmured to himself. "I just hope tomorrow I get lucky… and that the first ability the trial grants me is a good one."
With that final thought, his consciousness slowly faded, and he drifted into sleep—
toward the beginning of his own trial.