The Ascent of the Forsaken Ridge
Raghu emerged from the Pit of Shadows, his body sore, clothes tattered, and spirit tempered like molten steel. The scene changed once more as the terrain transformed again. The moon which was the only source of light, hung low in the and partially visible , casting light over the rugged terrain ahead. This was the Forsaken Ridge. A vast rocky mountain range whose peaks pierced the clouds and whose slopes were riddled with treacherous cliffs, unpredictable crevices, and unpredictable wildlife. He understood immediately why it was called "Forsaken." Survival would demand every ounce of skill, endurance, and intuition he had developed so far.
The falchion rested comfortably in his grip, humming softly with anticipation, almost as if sensing the trials to come. Raghu allowed himself a moment to breathe, feeling the residual violet energy of the Pit of Shadows coursing through his body, mingling with the sword's own essence. He closed his eyes and focused, aligning his breathing with the rhythm of his aura. Every muscle tensed, ready for the grueling climb ahead.
He started the ascent carefully , using narrow ledges as footholds and scanning the cliffs for signs of instability. Every step was a calculated risk. Loose rocks threatened to topple underfoot, and the ridge itself seemed alive with hidden dangers. Every test he took always tested him to limit. He could still feel shadows twisted unnaturally around every corner. This will be a grueling climb up , thinking to himself he pushed forward.
Hours into the climb, the first real challenge appeared: a swarm of winged creatures, not unlike enormous bats with jagged talons and glimmering red eyes, swooped down from the cliffs above. Raghu barely had time to react. The falchion responded instinctively, slashing through the first few attackers, each strike precise and guided by the weapon's own will. Yet more descended, attacking in coordinated waves. He realized quickly that brute strength alone would not suffice; he had to move strategically, using the cliffs, ledges, and jagged outcroppings to funnel the creatures into manageable clusters.
Raghu ducked and slashed with falchion also helping him along the way. Hunger and fatigue gnawed at him, but he realized that these trials were as much about mental endurance as physical prowess. The ridge was designed to push him to his limits, to test his ability to read the terrain, anticipate threats, and adapt. By the time he reached a small plateau to rest, his muscles burned, cuts and bruises dotted his body, yet his aura glowed steadily, pulsing in resonance with the falchion.
During this brief respite, Raghu surveyed the path ahead. The ridge stretched endlessly, jagged peaks rising higher into the night, shrouded in mist. Small clusters of creatures moved in the distance, their forms barely visible yet radiating menace. He noted subtle patterns in their movements—territorial zones, attack timings, and clustering tendencies. This information was invaluable; survival depended on more than reflexes—it depended on foresight.
As dawn broke, the second day began. Raghu continued his ascent, now facing a new challenge: unstable terrain. Massive stone plates jutted from the ridge like broken steps, some suspended precariously above the void. A misstep here could mean plummeting to the valleys below. He moved deliberately, testing each stone before placing his weight, using the falchion to balance and probe for weak points. Occasionally, entire ledges shifted, forcing him into split-second evasive maneuvers. The sword's guidance became more pronounced, nudging him toward stable footholds and optimal paths.
Midway through the second day, Raghu encountered the ridge's next threat: stone-carved golems, remnants of an ancient civilization he thought. They were immense, towering creatures with jagged limbs and glowing red eyes. Unlike the Pit's shadows, these golems were solid, resistant to conventional attacks. His falchion clashed against a golem's arm, sending sparks and vibrations up his arm, yet the weapon adapted, redistributing force and allowing him to strike with maximum efficiency. Each golem defeated felt like solving a complex puzzle—timing, angle, and flow were more important than raw strength.
By nightfall, Raghu had reached a higher plateau. The ridge opened to a breathtaking, yet forbidding sight. Peaks spiraled upward, some lost in clouds, others crowned with ancient ruins barely visible through the mist. He understood that the final stage of the ridge would be even more perilous, with environmental hazards compounded by increasingly intelligent adversaries. As he rested, he meditated, absorbing energy and aligning with the falchion's will, strengthening his mind and body for the trials to come.
The third day began with a violent storm, an element of the Forsaken Ridge designed to amplify the difficulty. Winds howled, rain lashed down, and lightning illuminated the path sporadically. Rocks became slippery, and visibility dropped. Raghu adjusted, using the falchion's glow to track edges, shadows, and the approach of predators. Lightning revealed glimpses of enormous creatures moving through the mist—hybrid forms combining the traits of mountain lions, serpents, and wolves. Each encounter demanded split-second decisions: dodge, strike, retreat, and reposition.
By mid-afternoon, Raghu had discovered a hidden network of ledges forming a safer route. He realized the Ridge wasn't just about brute force; observation and patience were critical. He avoided unnecessary confrontation, letting weaker creatures pass while focusing on threats that could corner or trap him. The falchion's guidance was subtle but unwavering, helping him maintain balance and precision under extreme conditions.
As the third day drew to a close, Raghu faced the final challenge: a massive, serpentine creature, its scales dark as obsidian, eyes glowing green. Its sheer size blocked much of the ridge ahead, and its strike sent boulders crashing down, threatening to crush him. Raghu moved fluidly, letting the falchion dictate the fight. He dodged, parried, and countered with perfect timing, each blow leaving glowing trails. Hours of precise, exhausting combat culminated in a decisive strike, and the creature collapsed, the ridge finally clear.
Exhausted but victorious . He heard the familiar chime in his head and " 500 Doom credits added". He had earned Doom Credits, experience, and a profound understanding of the sword's sentience, it was time to head back. He wanted to end this trail, but the chime never came. He was still trying to make sense of it when the ridge he'd been sitting on suddenly crumbled. In an instant, he was yanked into a dark, sucking void, the world above him disappearing in a blur.
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Somewhere in Upper floors of CNC. Nathan's office :
Nathan was at his desk when a knock sounded at the door. A woman walked in and sat across from him without invitation.
He gave her a stern look, but she seemed unbothered, her eyes drifting to the specimen on his desk.
Nathan sighed. "What do you want, Brenda?"
"You already know why I'm here," she shot back. "Come on, give it to me. You promised me that the next time you went down, you'd bring me a list of good candidates. So? Did anyone catch your eye? Someone of your caliber should be able to spot a diamond in the rough."
"You know that's against the rules," Nathan said evenly. "I can't share candidate data. You'll have your chance to recruit after the initial screening."
Brenda leaned forward. "Don't back out now, Nathan. You promised."
"I'm not going back on my word," he replied sharply. After a pause, he added, "Fine. I'll give you the list—but not my assessments. That part is non-negotiable. The rules stay intact. The list will be public in an hour anyway, so all you're really getting is a head start. Good luck."
She opened her mouth to argue, but Nathan was already on his feet. A moment later, he was gone.