Act-3: The Chosen Burden
Troady's breath caught in his throat. Only me? The words echoed in his chest like a heavy bell tolling through eternity. His trembling hands curled into fists. "A task… for me? But why? I've failed at everything. I was cast aside by my world, mocked by fate itself. Surely you jest!"
God's expression did not shift, though his eyes held an intensity that pierced Troady's very soul. "It is no jest. In every soul, no matter how broken, lies a purpose carved by destiny's hand. Yours is hidden beneath scars of misfortune. But it is there."
Troady's lips quivered. "And what purpose could a fool like me possibly serve?"
The heavens shimmered, the very skies folding back as if unveiling a hidden tapestry. A vast image spread before him—worlds upon worlds, countless realms in peril, their threads fraying into nothingness. Each spark dimmed as shadows consumed them.
"The balance is collapsing," God's voice boomed now, no longer soft but commanding. "The gates between worlds weaken. Darkness seeps through, hungering, unrelenting. Many champions I have summoned, yet they too have fallen. But you, Troady…" God leaned closer, and his words struck like a hammer. "…you alone carry the curse that can turn into salvation."
Troady staggered back. "My… curse? The very thing that's ruined me—how could that save anything?"
God's hand glowed, and in it appeared a crystalline shard, pulsating faintly like a dying heartbeat. He placed it before Troady.
"This is the Fragment of Aethern. It rejects all who walk with fortune. Only one drowned in perpetual misfortune may wield its power, for only they can resist the temptations of destiny. You are the vessel."
Troady stared at the fragment, its faint glow painting his tear-streaked face. A shiver crawled down his spine. His cursed luck—the bane of his existence—was suddenly being hailed as the very thing needed to protect countless worlds.
"But what if I fail again?" he whispered, voice breaking.
God's gaze softened. "Then you will fall… but not in vain. And should you succeed, you will no longer be the lost soul crying for escape. You will become the anchor upon which all worlds stand."
The shard pulsed, resonating with his trembling heartbeat. The choice weighed before him—accept this impossible burden, or remain broken, drifting endlessly in heaven's void.
Troady clenched his teeth, fear and defiance battling inside him. Finally, he reached out. His fingers grazed the shard.
A blinding surge of energy consumed him. His body burned, his vision fractured, and for the briefest instant, he felt every failure, every stumble, every death—and yet, within that pain, a strange strength bloomed.
Troady screamed as the fragment sank into his chest. The heavens trembled.
And then… silence.
When the light dimmed, he found himself no longer in the serene void of heaven. Instead, he stood upon a scarred battlefield, the stench of ash and blood choking the air. Before him, monstrous silhouettes stirred in the mist.
The trial had begun.
To be continued…
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