As the heroes recovered from their first trial, they were given a short reprieve before facing the next ordeal. The high spirits, watching over them, acknowledged their resilience and granted them weapons—each tailored to their strengths. Swords of ethereal light, bows infused with elemental energy, and shields that pulsed with protective magic were placed in their hands.

Grey hesitated as he held his weapon, a seemingly ordinary sword with an eerie glow. Unlike the others, his did not radiate overwhelming power. It felt... incomplete. He glanced at Jackson, who gripped his weapon with newfound confidence, though doubt still lingered in his eyes. Aria, surrounded by gentle spirits, seemed more attuned to her weapon than anyone else, her affinity with the spirits granting her an edge.

Once armed, they were led to the next trial—one far crueler than the first. This time, they would not simply witness illusions of their past but be thrust into a battlefield where death was inevitable. The spirits explained that in this realm, the fallen would return to life, forced to fight over and over again. Pain, exhaustion, and despair would claw at their sanity until they either emerged stronger or broke entirely.

The trial began, and monsters surged forward—endless waves of grotesque beings that reformed moments after being slain. At first, they fought with all their might, but as death and rebirth repeated, they realized mere skill was not enough. They needed to adapt, to strategize, to overcome the despair of knowing that even victory meant nothing if they could not find a way to break the cycle.

The first time Grey died, it was a swift, brutal slash across his chest. Agony unlike anything he had ever known filled his senses before everything faded to darkness. Then, suddenly, he was whole again, gasping for breath as he reappeared at the starting point. The others stood beside him, horror mirroring in their eyes.

"What the hell was that?" Anthony clutched his stomach, even though there was no wound left. "I felt... everything."

"It hurts... it hurts so much," Aria whimpered, holding her arms as if trying to shield herself from the memory of pain.

Jackson gritted his teeth. "I thought we wouldn’t actually feel death! This is insane!"

But the trial didn’t allow them time to recover. The monsters surged again, tearing them apart before they could mount a proper defense. Each death was more agonizing than the last.

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On the fifth revival, Grey collapsed to his knees, panting heavily. "We can’t keep doing this. We need a plan."

"A plan?" Jackson spat, his voice cracking. "We die no matter what we do! This is impossible!"

Grey forced himself to his feet. "Then we make it possible. We start fighting like we mean it. We find a way."

Aria wiped her tear-streaked face, nodding. "The spirits... they’re trying to guide us. We have to listen."

Anthony scowled, flexing his sore muscles. "Listen? To what? I don’t hear anything except the sound of those damn monsters tearing us apart over and over again."

The battles continued, their deaths stacking up. Five times, ten times, twenty times—they lost count. Each resurrection carried more weight, exhaustion creeping in despite their bodies resetting. They began to see patterns, to understand the rhythm of battle. Their movements became sharper, their reactions faster. Slowly, they adapted.

Jackson struggled the most. With every death, his confidence shattered further. The spirits, watching him with disdain, mocked his efforts and refused to grant him aid.

"Why won’t they help me?" he muttered, gripping his sword with trembling hands.

"Because you’re doubting yourself," Aria said softly. "They can feel it. You have to believe."

Jackson let out a bitter laugh. "Believe? In what? This is nothing like the stories. I thought I was the protagonist, but I can’t even survive this damn trial without dying over and over again."

As the battle raged, a dark force whispered to Jackson, offering him power—an escape from the torment. He nearly succumbed, his fingers trembling as he reached for the forbidden strength.

"Jackson!" Grey’s voice cut through the haze. He lunged forward, knocking Jackson’s hand away from the darkness. "Don’t. That’s not the way."

Jackson looked at him, eyes wide, fear and desperation mixing in his gaze. But Grey’s expression was firm, unwavering. Slowly, Jackson withdrew his hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

A voice slithered into Jackson’s mind. Stupid. You should have accepted it. You would have shined the most. You could have been the strongest.

Jackson clenched his fists, shaking off the temptation, though doubt still lingered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they overcame the trial, their resilience earning them passage forward. As they reached the third trial, their eyes widened in awe. Before them stood the World Tree—majestic, radiant, its presence overwhelming. It was more beautiful than they had ever imagined, an ethereal glow surrounding its colossal trunk, its golden leaves shimmering in the light of the spirits that danced around it.

They couldn’t help but stare, entranced by its majesty.

Then, a voice echoed through the air, both gentle and commanding. "Welcome, Chosen. Come forward."

The trial was not over yet.

To be continued in Chapter 8…