The hall was silent. Silent in a way that gnawed at the ears, a silence so heavy it felt like sound itself had been swallowed whole.
My boots echoed against the black stone floor, each step swallowed too quickly. Ancient runes pulsed faintly along the walls, etched in patterns no scholar alive could decipher. Dust should have covered them—but the lines glowed faintly, alive, as if waiting.
Waiting for me.
Or more precisely, waiting for the protagonist.
Well… sorry, MC. Your VIP ticket's been snatched.
"Stay alert," I murmured without looking back.
Lira nodded once. Even sealed, her presence radiated calm, like standing beside a mountain wrapped in silk. She didn't need to say anything. She never did.
I tightened my grip on the knife.
And then the floor beneath my feet rippled.
The world warped, and suddenly I was no longer in a hall of stone—but standing in a field of red skies and black grass, the horizon stretching infinitely.
An illusion.
Of course the first trial was an illusion. These ancient ruins always loved their cheap tricks.
All around me, shadows rose, coalescing into figures. They had my face. My body. Dozens of "me" glared back at me, eyes glowing faintly crimson.
Oh, fantastic. A trial of self. Classic cliché.
One of the illusions sneered. "You're weak."
Another smirked. "You're a coward, hiding behind your protector."
Yet another laughed, bitter and cruel. "You're nothing more than a thief—stealing what was never yours."
My jaw tightened.
Yep. They got me pegged.
I raised a finger lazily. "Lira."
In a blink, the illusions were cut down, sliced apart as if the air itself had turned to blades. Their crimson gazes flickered out like dying embers.
The world shuddered. For a moment, I thought the trial might reject my… let's call it "creative method." But then the field dissolved, shadows fading, and the black stone hall returned.
Ha! See? Loopholes always work. Try to fight myself? No thanks. I've been doing that in my head every day since transmigration. Outsource the problem. This is not cowardice, this is efficiency.
A new set of runes lit up on the far wall.
The second trial had begun.
This time, the air grew heavy. Crushing. Invisible pressure bore down on me, as if the ceiling itself was trying to grind me into dust. My knees trembled. My breath hitched.
Ah. Aura suppression. The good old "willpower test." Basically, can you withstand a mountain sitting on your chest?
The pressure grew stronger, pressing into my bones. My vision blurred at the edges.
Lira stepped forward instinctively, her hand half-raising toward me.
"No." My voice was hoarse, but firm.
She froze.
"I'll… handle this one."
Not that she could do anything here. Not all things have loopholes like this trial is testing not my power or cunningness but my will and nobody can help in this except oneself
I gritted my teeth, forcing my back straight, blood rushing in my ears.
This is fine. Pain is temporary. Think of something else. Think of… oh, right. My bastard instructor throwing me to the dogs. That was worse. Yeah, this is basically like lying under a warm blanket compared to him.
The runes pulsed brighter. The crushing weight intensified, snapping down like iron bands across my ribs. My legs shook violently.
But I didn't bow.
This… is fine. Just another day under my instructor's torture. Remember the dogs. Remember how you wanted to kill that sadistic bastard. Compared to that, this is nothing.
And then, as suddenly as it came, the pressure lifted. My knees almost buckled from the sudden release, but I forced myself to stand tall, chest heaving.
The runes dimmed.
Second trial—cleared.
I allowed myself a small grin.
Not bad. Maybe I am a protagonist after all.
The third trial began almost immediately. The hall shook, the runes flaring crimson. This time, a massive stone gate rose from the floor, carved with the mark of a sword—half flame, half frost.
The symbol of my house.
I froze.
The gate groaned, light searing from its cracks. A voice boomed—not aloud, but in my mind.
"Blood of Darknorth. Prove your worth. Betrayal or loyalty—choose."
The air shifted. Images flashed around me—visions of my uncle, my cousin Serenya, my little sister Lilia. Their faces flickered between warmth and betrayal, kindness and cruelty.
I clenched my fists.
Shit. This one's dangerous. It's digging into my heart.
The illusions whispered. They'll betray you. Like they betrayed the protagonist. Like everyone betrays everyone, in the end.
My lips curled in a bitter smile.
They're not wrong. Even the MC, with plot armor, got betrayed more times than I can count. And me? I don't have that kind of shield. Trust is a luxury I can't afford.
But then I remembered Lilia's laugh. Serenya's gentle worry. My uncle's warm, if calculating, eyes.
I whispered, "I don't know if I can trust them. But I'll trust myself. And that's enough."
The illusions shattered like glass.
The gate rumbled and opened.
I stumbled forward, breath ragged, a bead of sweat sliding down my temple.
Three trials passed.
The legacy lay deeper still.
And I wasn't leaving empty-handed.