The Crucible's molten moat parted, revealing a path of obsidian plates drifting into formation. The heat pulsed like a living heartbeat, rising and falling in heavy waves.
And on the central island stood the Blade-Sigil Warrior.
Tall.
Unmoving.
Mask carved with four downward blade-marks.
Its essence blade extended from its right arm—curved, obsidian-sharp, glowing faintly red from absorbing the Crucible's heat.
The Warrior raised its free hand.
Four sigils ignited on its mask in slow sequence:
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Permission to begin.
Pulse Sense sharpened instantly.
The air crackled with silent tension.
The Warrior stepped forward.
Its foot touched the stone—
The entire island shifted, plates sliding into a circular arena beneath us.
The trial had begun.
---
The Warrior's first strike wasn't fast.
It was perfect.
A clean downward cut, blade tracing a measured arc, leaving a shimmering afterimage of molten particles. Not a test strike — a declaration. A sentence written in martial language.
I stepped aside. The blade cut past my face, heat scraping across armor.
The Warrior rotated into a second strike—
Different angle.
Different rhythm.
Pulse Sense caught the shift just in time. I ducked, claws dragging sparks from stone. The Warrior pivoted through the movement like water sliding around rock.
It didn't pause.
Didn't reset.
Its strikes flowed like a ritual.
I Blinked behind it.
The Warrior was already turning.
Fourth Sigil flared—
Essence Reversal.
My slash hit its blade—
Momentum flipped—
The impact slammed me backward across the arena.
My claws skidded across the ground, dragging molten lines as I slowed.
Good.
The Warrior advanced.
Fast.
Its footwork was flawless—silent, angled, balanced. Every step lowered its center of gravity, every cut matched the Crucible's heat currents perfectly.
I lunged.
Reaver Step snapped me forward—
Warrior's Third Sigil glowed—
It slashed upward—
Our blades met.
Claw and essence blade locked.
Heat burst between us.
Stone cracked under our feet.
The Warrior twisted its wrist—
A short motion—
Effortless, refined—
I rolled aside a moment before the blade cut through the space where my chest had been.
Predatory Insight saved me.
The Warrior didn't chase.
It waited.
Mask tilted slightly, analyzing my breathing, the way my stance shifted, the angles of my claws.
Mirror Stance.
It wanted to copy my rhythm.
I changed rhythm.
I charged in low—
Then high—
Then sideways—
Then froze—
Then snapped forward in a jagged path that no Shadeborn ritual could mirror.
The Warrior hesitated for the first time.
I struck.
Claws slashed down.
The Warrior intercepted with a fast, sharp cut. But it didn't predict the second strike—my tail splitting into dual blades that snapped forward like spears.
One blade grazed its mask.
A shallow line.
Insignificant physically.
Enormous symbolically.
The Warrior's posture shifted.
Not anger.
Recognition.
It stepped back and ignited every sigil at once.
The arena trembled.
Heat surged upward.
Stone plates rose and spun around us.
The Warrior launched into its next stance—arms wide, blade humming with molten energy, body outlined in a red aura as it drew power directly from the Crucible.
Crucible Blessing.
I braced—
But the Warrior was already behind me.
Shade Step—faster, sharper than Reaver Step but lacking length. Its blade cut a burning line across my shoulder.
I pivoted, armor reshaping instinctively, densifying to absorb the next hit.
Adaptive Morph kicked in—
I felt the pressure change—
Felt the heat gathering in the Warrior's core—
Felt the blade posture shift—
It was about to unleash a full Sigil Burst.
I changed shape.
My armor flattened.
Muscles compacted.
Legs bent forward, ready.
The Warrior exploded with force—
I vanished.
Reaver Step snapped me above it—
I reappeared upside-down mid-air, claws extended, limbs elongated with Stage 2 morph.
My slash hit the Warrior's back—
A deep cut.
Dark essence sprayed.
The Warrior staggered for the first time.
Its blade lowered.
It turned slowly to face me.
Mask angled downward.
Shoulders lowered.
It wasn't surrender.
It was shifting stance.
Accepting me as an equal.
No—
As a successor?
The thought flicked through before I pushed it away.
The Warrior lunged again.
This time it was faster than anything before—
A blur of molten blade arcs and sigil-lit footwork.
I ripped forward with Reaver Step—
We collided—
Claw and blade clashed in a storm of sparks and molten droplets.
Sigils pulsed.
Shadow armor shifted.
Adaptive Morph twisted my body into shapes matching every angle of the Warrior's attack.
For a moment, our movements synced.
Two shadows.
Two blades.
Two evolutions clashing under a dead god's ceiling.
The Warrior struck high—
I blocked low—
It switched rhythm—
I broke rhythm—
It copied—
I shattered pattern—
And then—
Predatory Insight snapped everything into place.
The Warrior's shoulders tightened—
Left leg angled forward—
Mask lowered—
Its next slash would be a downward spiral cut.
Predictable.
Its strongest technique.
Its final permission.
I moved first.
Reaver Step snapped me inside its guard—
Close—
Too close for its blade to angle—
My claws elongated—
Curved like scythes—
I slashed upward.
The Warrior's mask cracked.
A long fracture running down the center.
It froze.
Not from pain.
From acknowledgment.
The sigils dimmed one by one.
Heat around its blade flickered out.
The Warrior lowered its stance slowly, deliberately.
Then it knelt.
One knee touching the molten-stained stone.
Its blade dissolved into drifting black particles.
The trial was over.
The Crucible floor trembled beneath us.
The molten moat lowered.
A path opened toward a descending gate of obsidian and pale-blue veins.
Floor 4.
The Warrior rose again—weakly, damaged, but still dignified. It pointed at the gate with what remained of its blade-arm.
A gesture meaning:
Go.
You pass.
What awaits below will shape you even further.
I stepped forward.
The Crucible brightened behind me, as if exhaling after holding its breath for centuries.
The Warrior watched in silence as I crossed the final platform and entered the gate.
The stone slid closed behind me.
And the Silent Abyssal Archive of Floor 4 waited ahead.