The aligned platforms stretched out into the darkness, forming a narrow bridge suspended over an endless void. No rails. No guard. Just stone, silence, and the sound of their own breath.
Lan stepped forward but halted as a glowing inscription appeared on the first stone slab:
"Only one may cross. The others must choose: memory, pain… or oblivion."
They exchanged glances. Fear crept into the edges of their resolve.
"What does that mean?" Kien asked, voice tight.
Nam clenched his jaw. "A trial. Not of combat—but of choice."
Suddenly, three altars emerged from the void beside the bridge, each bearing a symbol.
The first: a swirling flame—memory. The second: a cracked heart—pain. The third: a blank mask—oblivion.
Bao stared at the blank mask. "This isn't just metaphor. It's real. We choose what we're willing to give up so one of us can pass."
Lan's voice trembled. "If one crosses, the others must sacrifice… something."
Nam stepped to the front. "Then let me go. I'll cross."
"No." Lan grasped his wrist. "Not alone. You've carried too much already."
Silence hung between them—thick, heavy.
"I'll take pain," Bao said suddenly. "I've endured worse. I'll bear more."
"I… I'll give up a memory," Lan whispered. "If that's what it takes."
Kien hesitated… then walked to the third altar.
"Oblivion," he muttered. "Take what you must."
The air shimmered.
Bao collapsed, screaming. His past injuries surged back with unbearable intensity.
Lan wept silently as she felt a precious memory—her mother's face—slip from her mind like smoke in the wind.
Kien's eyes turned glassy, momentarily blank. When he blinked, a piece of himself was gone.
The bridge lit up.
Nam turned back, eyes burning with emotion. "Thank you. I swear—whatever lies ahead—I'll make it count."
He stepped onto the bridge.
Each footfall echoed like thunder.
Ahead, a colossal gate loomed—carved with the symbol of fate itself.
And beyond it… the core of the Abyss.