It was a silent night after they had all parted ways. Their voices still lingered in his mind, murmurs of motivation and implicit pressure at the same time. For the first time in days, he lay down without the weight of upcoming battle or noise surrounding him. The fatigue in his body finally managed to catch up, and sleep overtook him before he even realized it.
But when his eyes reopened, the world was not the same anymore.
Darkness. Suffocating and endless.
The air was cold, as if every breath drew the heat from his chest. He sat up, confused. The ground beneath his hands wasn't earth, nor stone, nor anything natural. It was like solid shadow — smooth, hard, but unnatural. There was no sky overhead, only black emptiness waving gently with gray currents like smoke.
His heart raced. Where am I?
And then the voice returned.
[ System Notice: Welcome, User. ]
[ Location: Shadow Domain – Virtual Practice Field. ]
The sudden message roiled his stomach. The glowing letters hung before his eyes, impassive and unfeeling.
[ Explanation: This is a controlled trial field created for your growth. You will find simulations, echoes, and artificial enemies here that are meant to bring you to your limits. ]
His fists tightened as he fought to regain control. "So this isn't reality?"
[ Correct. This is a place between reality and illusion. Fail here, and your body won't die — but your soul will. Success is required to advance. ]
A shiver ran down his spine. The seriousness of the words outweighed any battlefield he had ever stepped foot on.
He forced himself to stand. "Fine. Show me what I'm supposed to do."
The shadows stirred.
The space was empty at first. Then, as ripples would form in water, shapes began to take form around him. One… two… three… and more. Each shape solidified until they were perfect reflections of himself. His face, his build, even his posture — but their eyes were vacant, soulless, glowing faintly with violet light.
[ Trial One: Defeat Your Variants. ]
He was interrupted by the system's voice. The puppets moved.
The first moved forward, copying his stance precisely. He barely had time to deflect, the hit causing his arm to throb dully. He backed away, realizing these were not weak replicas. They moved as he moved. They knew his rhythm, his inclinations, his vulnerabilities.
"Damn it…" he cursed, dodging another attack.
The fight went on. Every move he tried, one of the puppets mimicked or countered. It was like fighting a twisted version of his own reflexes. Sweat poured from his brow, and his lungs burned.
Then something inside him shifted.
"If they're me… then they'll do what I expect.".
He stopped imitating his usual patterns. Instead, he broke his rhythm — clumsy swings, jerky pauses, odd steps not his own. The puppets faltered, barely, and in that gap he struck. His sword bit into the first one, the body crumbling backward into smoke.
One down. Many to go.
He fought like a madman, breaking his habits, rewriting himself in the midst of combat. Every puppet defeated was like shedding another layer of his own weakness. Finally, the last one fell, dissolving into shadow that flowed into the earth.
His chest burned. His arms ached. His knees nearly betrayed him.
Then the system spoke to him again.
[ Trial One Completed. Preparing Next Phase. ]
The ground shook underfoot. Chasms rent the black earth, and from them crept hideous shapes. Wolves with too-wide mouths, serpents shaped from flame and smoke, armored beasts with claws that screamed on the earth. Their eyes burned with hunger.
[ Trial Two: Slay the Beasts of the Realm. ]
He opened his sword arm, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Of course."
The first wave surged towards him. The wolf struck — he dodged to the side and thrust his sword into its throat. It disintegrated into shadow. The serpent struck next, fire dancing across its body. He rolled, avoiding the flames by a hair's breadth, and slashed across its side. More shadows burst apart.
Yet the beasts continued to come. Dozens, and then dozens more. His flesh screamed in torment as claws ripped at his body, as teeth closed inches from his neck. Still, his resolve didn't break. Every blow he struck, every kill he won, was a step closer.
Time warped there. He had no concept of how long he fought — minutes, hours, maybe longer. Until finally there was quiet again. The field was full of dying shadows, dissolving into black mist.
He dropped to a knee, blood running down his arm. His sword trembled in his hand.
The system voice spoke once more.
[ Trial Two Completed. Preparing Final Phase. ]
The air changed. Before him, a chest took form, shaped from the shadow but giving off a faint red glow. It hung suspended in the air, pulsing as if alive.
He forced himself to stand, stumbling forward towards it. Reaching out to touch the chest, it opened, releasing light that devoured the darkness around it.
Inside was a weapon.
A sword, long and thin, black as night with red stripes traced down its length. The guard was shaped like wings, and the sword itself pulsed weakly, as though it possessed veins that drew in the air around it. When he lifted it, a shudder ran up his arm, but instead of fear, a strange power flowed through him.
[ Reward: Vampiric Nightblade. ]
The system explained:
[ Description: This weapon was crafted from the blood and essence of shadows and feeds on the energy of enemies. Every strike drains energy, healing the wielder. It thrives in the darkness and grows stronger with each kill. ]
His fists tightened on the hilt. The sword almost appeared… alive. A weapon that fed on his enemies and gave him power in return.
He exhaled, his chest firm but heavy.
[ Final Note: This is only the beginning. Greater trials await. Prepare yourself. ]
The words faded away. The multitudinous dark folded in on itself, and his eyes went black once again before he could say a word.