The chaos of the rift seemed endless, a storm of shadows, distorted landscapes, and echoes of impossible voids. As Lucien's tendrils of shadow sliced through floating shards and mirrored illusions, a presence descended—a calm center within the storm. The air itself seemed to acknowledge it, vibrating with a low hum that made even the rift's violent winds hesitate.
Lucien instinctively stepped back, tightening his control over the White. He had felt power before, immense and unshakable, but this… this was different. It was deliberate, controlled, and centuries deep. From the pulsing chaos emerged a figure: tall, draped in dark robes that swirled without wind, his eyes hidden beneath a shadowed hood, yet somehow seeing everything at once.
"Lucien Dreamveil," the figure said, voice low but cutting through the void's roar. "You are… the first in this era to survive the White." There was a pause, a subtle weight in the tone, as though he spoke truths that had been kept secret for generations. "I have known your father, and through him, I know what you are capable of. But that is not enough here."
With a gesture, the Rift Guardians stirred, their mirrored forms stepping forward like soldiers obeying an unspoken command. They formed a perimeter around Lucien, their presence reinforcing the void's law. The figure did not move closer. Instead, he watched, silent, as if weighing every movement, every instinct.
"You will not face me directly," he continued, "but through those who obey the laws of this rift. Each action, each decision, will be measured. The White does not bend for those who act blindly. It responds to understanding. It responds to mastery."
Lucien's pulse quickened. The White energy within him reacted subtly, shadows extending tentatively, as if acknowledging the presence of this unknown master. He understood: this was not a fight for survival. This was a lesson, a crucible designed to measure his comprehension of the void itself.
The figure's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "Do not waste your strength. The White can grant you power beyond reckoning, but only to those who grasp its law. Show me that you are more than a survivor, Lucien. Show me that you can shape it, not merely wield it."
Without another word, he receded into the swirling chaos, leaving Lucien surrounded by the Rift Guardians, each a reflection of the void's harsh principles. The test had begun. Every illusion, every strike, every movement would now probe not only Lucien's combat skill but his understanding of the very energy that had made him what he was.
And somewhere, in the shadows of the rift, Lucien felt the first true weight of expectation—not from his enemies, but from the unseen eyes of one who had known his father… and understood what he could become.