The ground split open, shadows spilling like liquid, twisting into a monstrous form
A beast crawled from the abyss—its body stitched from bone and sinew, eyes glowing with hunger. Its claws scraped the earth, leaving trails of black fire. Each breath it released stank of rot, like death itself had taken form.
The system's voice was merciless:
> [Trial Initiated.]
[Survive.]
Soul Ming's hands curled into fists. His body was trembling, but not from fear. His grief, his rage, his hatred—those were heavier than any terror.
The beast roared, the sound shaking the broken ground, and it lunged at him
Ming barely rolled aside. Claws tore through the dirt where his chest had been.
I would have died if i was a heartbeat slower.
Said Soul Ming .
His lungs burned, his muscles weak. He had no weapon, no armor—nothing but raw will keeping him moving.
The beast's tail lashed out, catching him in the ribs. He flew back, the air ripped from his lungs, crashing into the bloodstained soil.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe. The world spun. His vision blurred.
> [This monster is strong. I can't die l again]
No.
He forced himself up, spitting blood. His gaze landed on something glinting in the dirt—half-buried, discarded.
The sword.
The very blade his girlfriend had used to stab him.
He ran towards the blade but the monster ain't making it that easy for him
The monster lashed his tail at him like a pray toying with his food before dinner
But soul Ming is not giving up
He ran dodging every strike "bearly"
Then he got to the blade hand shook as he wrapped his fingers around the hilt. The grip was slick with dried blood—his blood.
The beast lunged again.
Ming dodged sideways, barely, swinging clumsily. The blade scraped against its hide, cutting shallow. The monster shrieked but didn't falter and reacted to Ming's attacks its claws tearing across his houlder. Blood sprayed. His knees nearly buckled.
He staggered back, panting. His vision dimmed. The trial was crushing him.
But his mind screamed louder:
> I can't die. Not yet. Not until I make them pay.
The beast lowered itself, preparing to strike again. Ming steadied his breath, tightening his grip on the blade. His body was breaking, at this point is only his will that's keeping him moving.
He watched. Waited.
The beast lunged, mouth open wide.
At the last second, Ming dropped to one knee, rolling beneath its strike. His blade lashed upward, tearing through the softer flesh under its jaw. Black ichor splattered across his face.
The beast howled, thrashing violently. Claws raked his back, nearly cutting ming in half. Pain exploded through his, but he didn't let go of the blade.
With a roar of his own, he drove the sword deeper, twisting it with every ounce of strength he had left.
The monster shrieked, and then collapsed. Its body dissolved into smoke, fading .
Ming fell with it, his chest heaving, blood pouring from his wounds. His arms trembled so violently he could barely hold the sword.
But he was alive.
Barely.
The system's voice echoed, sharp and absolute:
> [Trial Complete.]
[Host has proven the will to survive.]
[System Synchronization: 12%].
[New Function Unlocked: ???]
A faint pulse throbbed in his chest,like a second heartbeat. He didn't understand it, but he knew—this was only the start.
A warmth spread through his broken body. His wounds didn't close, but the bleeding slowed. The pain dulled just enough to keep him conscious.
Ming lay there for a long moment, staring at the sword. His reflection stared back at him in the bloodstained steel—eyes wild, hollow, yet burning with something new.
Not mercy.
Not hope.
Only vengeance.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, swaying but unbroken. He raised the sword, pointing it at the empty sky.
> "…This world took everything from me."
His voice was raw, trembling with fury.
> "I'll take everything from it."
Broken. Bleeding. But unyielding.
The trial was only the beginning.