The celebrations had ended, but the echoes of laughter and clinking goblets still haunted the stone corridors of Castle Verogina. The next morning, Chrizer stood at the castle's eastern balcony, watching the rising twin suns bathe the land in hues of molten gold. He could feel it in his bones—something dark awaited on the horizon.
Just after dawn, the squad of Merophagus gathered in the War Hall. The grand chamber was filled with glowing maps, floating glyphs, and a long table of ethereal marble. At the center hovered a projected image of a decayed path winding through a dying forest, leading toward a mountainous black gate.
"This," Mizelien spoke, pointing to the projection, "is the Scourged Path—a cursed route that leads to the Portal of Drazul, the only known gateway that can transport us into the outer layers of the Omniverse, toward the planet Dezivileous."
Chrizer squinted. "Why does that place feel... familiar?"
"It should," Phiona said, still faintly bandaged from their last encounter. "The Scourged Path was once known as Valaria's Vein, a sacred ground where nature and spirit coexisted. But after the gods fell into war, the land decayed. The veil between dimensions weakened there, and things began to leak through. Twisted beasts. Forgotten gods. Memories that walk."
"It's a scar on the world," Trizious added in his usual low voice. "A place where time, sanity, and life all rot together."
Still, there was no other path.
Mizelien placed a radiant sun shard on the table, activating the portal gates for passage. "We leave at sunset."
The squad marched through the eastern plains, the terrain slowly shifting from grassy hills to cracked earth and dead roots. The sky darkened unnaturally as they approached the outer rim of the Scourged Forest.
As they crossed the boundary, all sound ceased—no birds, no insects, not even wind.
Only silence.
"Stay close," Yugia whispered, her frostbow drawn, glowing with icy blue veins.
They entered a narrow path choked with thorned vines and skeletal trees. The ground pulsed with sickly green energy, and the air reeked of ancient decay. Chrizer tightened his grip on the Sword of Union, feeling it hum in response to the unnatural aura.
Suddenly, the path ahead split, and mist swallowed their view. A stone marker stood at the fork with worn symbols etched in it:
"To the left, the Lost. To the right, the Damned. To the center... the Trial."
Mizelien stepped forward. "We take the center path. The Trial of Will is the only way forward."
As they moved forward, strange whispers tickled their ears. Chrizer heard his name—no, not just heard, felt it—being whispered in a voice that mirrored his own. The trees bled crimson sap. Shadows began to move on their own.
The forest opened to a wide, circular glade. Floating above the ground was a shimmering rift, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Mizelien turned to the group. "The Trial begins here. Each of us will be tested. If you fall, you vanish—not just from here, but from memory itself."
Without waiting, Mizelien stepped into the rift and disappeared.
One by one, they entered. Chrizer was the last.
When he passed through the rift, the world around him shifted violently. He found himself alone, standing in an endless plain of glass. Above him loomed a massive version of himself—eyes burning with hatred, wielding a warped version of the Sword of Union, twisted and oozing black fire.
The Trial of Will had taken form.
"Who are you without the stone?" the dark version growled. "Who are you if your power is stripped away?"
The twisted Chrizer lunged.
The duel was fierce. Every strike echoed across the void. The dark Chrizer knew his every move, countered every tactic. With each blow, Chrizer felt his resolve slipping. Doubt crept into his heart—Was he really worthy? Or just a vessel for the stone's rage?
Bruised and bloodied, Chrizer fell to one knee.
Then he remembered Mizelien's words:
"True power is not what the stone gives you, but what you become without it."
With a cry of defiance, Chrizer let go of the crimson energy, relying solely on his own strength. His blade dimmed, but his spirit burned brighter. He struck forward, piercing through his shadow's chest.
The dark figure shattered like glass.
Chrizer awoke in the center of the glade. The rest of the team was already there, each visibly shaken. Mizelien stood silently, arms crossed.
"You passed," he said simply.
The rift behind them closed with a final pulse, and before them, a massive obsidian gate emerged from the earth. Etched upon its surface was the symbol of Dezivileous: a sword splitting both sun and moon.
"The Gate of Drazul," Phiona whispered.
Their journey through the Omniverse was about to begin.
But from deep within the scorched land, something watched them. A shadow with a thousand eyes. A being awakened by the ripple of the Trial.
And it was hungry.
CHAPTER - ENDED
NEXT CHAPTER - COMING SOON