Axel Calford.
An anomaly in the world of Hero Chronicles.
I used to think this was just some side character. A placeholder. A mistake.
But now? Now I'm starting to doubt everything.
From the moment I saw the shadow… I should've known.
This wasn't the game.
This was something else.
And now, here I stand—no, stumble—in what should've been the final trial.
But it wasn't.
Not the one I remembered.
---
The Trial of Self.
In the game, it was just a dark room.
You faced yourself. Nothing fancy. A test of skill and reaction.
Simple. Fair.
But this?
This was… beautiful.
Cherry blossom trees swayed gently in a breeze I couldn't feel. Petals—like soft pink snowflakes—drifted down in slow motion.
It felt peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Under the largest tree sat a man.
I couldn't see his face. But I recognized the silhouette.
Traditional black samurai robes, flowing like smoke. His sleeves danced with the wind as if the fabric itself was breathing.
A pitch-black sword was stabbed into the ground in front of him.
His hair, raven-dark. His eyes—steel blue, like the blade of a sword left out in the cold.
A long scar ran down from neck to cheek.
He looked like… an older me.
Sharper. Stronger.
Colder.
Father? Brother?
No.
This was me—if I had walked a very different path.
Another deviation from the game.
Don't tell me… I have to fight that?
---
He stood in a single, fluid motion.
No wasted movement. No sound.
Then he drew his sword.
The world flipped.
I didn't even see the blade move.
Just a flash—
Then darkness.
---
I woke up again.
Back where I started.
Same cherry blossoms.
Same man.
Same silence.
Confusion surged in my chest. Did I just die?
Then why—?
"I see…" I muttered, swallowing bile. "So it's that kind of trial."
---
Same condition as the game.
Land one blow. Just one.
Sounds easy, right?
Try doing it against a man who moves faster than thought.
And I had nothing.
No sword. No dagger. No trick up my sleeve.
Just my fists.
And a slightly above-average Strength stat.
Great.
Just like those trash VRMMOs I used to grind. Ridiculous enemies. Broken mechanics. Janky controls.
I sighed and stepped forward.
Took a stance.
That's when it happened.
A spark.
[Super Cognition].
The world slowed.
I could see him reach for the sword.
I could see the movement before it came.
But when the blade swung—
It still came at full speed.
---
Death. Again.
Woke up.
Same spot.
Rinse. Repeat.
---
Third time, I dodged the first slash.
Closed the distance.
Got beheaded.
---
Fourth.
Tenth.
Fifteenth.
Again. Again. Again.
My bones shattered. My spine snapped. My throat was sliced open.
Every kind of death.
Over and over.
And each time I woke up—physically fine.
But mentally?
I was breaking.
Every scream echoed in my skull.
The smell of blood. The sound of my ribs cracking. The feel of steel carving through flesh.
I could still feel it.
Even if my body forgot… I remembered everything.
---
It felt impossible.
That slash wasn't something you could dodge.
Not with my speed.
Not with my timing.
My body screamed at me.
Use it.
The Trait. [???'s Chip].
Somewhere deep inside, I knew it would help.
But that warning…
> "Beware of the trait."
I couldn't take it lightly.
Still, I was backed into a corner.
Curiosity. Desperation. Madness.
Whatever it was—I gave in.
---
On command, it activated.
The world turned grey.
Color bled from the trees, the sky, the blossoms.
My heartbeat slowed. My emotions flattened.
It felt like…
Autopilot.
I was floating inside my own skull.
My body moved without me.
---
I charged the samurai.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Just cold calculation.
He slashed down—I ducked.
I returned with a kick to the ribs. Heard something crack.
He slashed upward.
My mind suggested—sacrifice an arm.
Wait, what?
I yanked it back just in time.
Still, the blade tore through my bicep.
A red river burst out.
The pain registered
Late.
Detached.
Like I was reading it off a screen instead of feeling it.
That was the first warning.
This trait—it wasn't helping me fight.
It was numbing me.
And that was terrifying.
---
I kept going.
Step by step, movement by movement.
Every motion was calculated with surgical precision.
The way I leaned, the angle of my dodges, the height of my jumps—it was perfect.
Too perfect.
I was moving like a machine.
How long had it been?
Minutes?
An hour?
I didn't know anymore.
Only that my body was slowing down.
My stamina was draining like a leaking faucet.
My legs trembled with each step.
My arms ached, blood dripping down like ink from a broken pen.
---
Then—
It happened.
One strike.
Different from the rest.
I felt it before I saw it.
Murderous Intent.
It was like a scream inside my skull.
The samurai lifted his blade above his head. Held it there.
The petals froze in the air.
The sky darkened.
And then—
The blade came down.
---
I moved.
Pure instinct.
The steel grazed my ribs, carving a deep slash across my side.
Agony.
My vision shattered.
My legs buckled.
The pain was unlike anything before—real this time.
I felt my body break. My thoughts stuttered.
Every breath stabbed the wound from the inside.
My throat burned.
Sweat pooled in my eyes.
But still…
My thoughts remained cold. Numb.
The trait was still active.
I couldn't feel fear. Couldn't feel panic.
Just…
A final calculation.
It was like I wasn't human anymore. Incapable of comprehending emotion.
---
One more chance.
One more push.
I ran.
The wound screamed with every step.
But I ran.
---
The sword came down again.
I slipped left.
It followed.
I jumped.
It missed.
Then—
My fist connected.
Right on the temple.
Just enough force. Just the right angle.
I knew how to knock someone out.
I had learned from real fights, from the studies on the human body.
---
He staggered.
Dropped to one knee.
Looked up at me.
Our eyes met.
And for the first time—I saw his face clearly.
He seemed Tired.
Empty.
Lonely.
---
Then—
He vanished.
Like mist blown away by wind.
Like a mirage, something that was never there.
---
Color returned to the world.
My knees gave out.
Pain exploded in every limb.
My side burned. My lungs screamed.
My muscles locked.
This wasn't like before.
"I see, if I don't die, my wounds don't heal"
I did find it wierd how my wounds healed when I died, but after I won my scars remained.
---
Whoever designed this trial was a damn sadist.
I crawled forward, leaving a trail of blood behind me.
In the center of the cherry grove…
Three items floated gently.
A pitch-black sword like polished obsidian — [Obsidian Fang].
The samurai's robe — long, flowing, with weight behind it. It reminded me of a marine commander's coat from One Piece.
And a glowing orb.
A skill.
The sword art: [Poetic Sword].
---
I staggered to my feet.
Every breath was a struggle.
My body was shutting down. I could feel it.
I turned to the tree where the man had once sat.
Carved into the bark, barely visible—
> "Alice."
My lips parted.
"…Alice?"
Who—?
The world tilted.
My vision cracked.
Blackness bled in from the edges.
And then—
Collapse.
---
[You have cleared the Trial of Self.]
[Trait – ???'s Chip (Partial Sync) has progressed. 12%]
[You have obtained: Obsidian Fang, Poetic Sword, Shadow Walker's Robe.]
---
The system messages flickered in my mind.
But I couldn't care.
I was already unconscious.