Kenji’s eyes blinked open, his vision blurred and unfocused. The flickering light of a nearby lantern cast long shadows on the tent above him, the fabric rippling slightly as a faint breeze swept through. His head throbbed, his body felt like it had been put through a grinder, and as he tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through his torso, forcing him to collapse back with a gasp.
He heard shuffling nearby, and panic flooded his mind. His heart raced as his memories came rushing back—the battle, the blood, the haze that had consumed him. A raider? Were they still here? He struggled to move again, teeth gritted against the pain, but a voice rang out, startling him into stillness.
“Don’t you even think about it, boy,” Taro said, his voice laced with a mixture of relief and sternness. “You’ll tear those stitches and bleed out before you even get halfway up.”
Kenji craned his neck toward the voice and saw Taro kneeling beside him, a rag in his hand stained with blood. The older man’s face looked tired, streaked with dirt and sweat, but his eyes held an almost uncharacteristic glimmer of excitement. Taro leaned closer, placing a firm hand on Kenji’s shoulder to keep him down.
“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?” Taro said with a small chuckle. “Figured you’d be out for another few hours, but here you are, trying to get yourself killed again.”
Kenji groaned. “What… what happened?”
Taro wiped his hands on the rag, setting it aside before sitting cross-legged next to Kenji. “After you passed out, I dragged your sorry carcass into this tent,” he said, his tone half-teasing.
“You’re lucky none of the raiders came back to catch me doing it. You’ve got a fair amount of cuts and bruises—nothing deadly, but you lost a lot of blood, kid. If I hadn’t been here to patch you up, well… let’s just say you wouldn’t be waking up right now.”
Kenji swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He wanted to ask more but couldn’t find the words. Taro continued, his expression shifting to something more serious.
“That… haze, or whatever it was,” Taro said, his voice quieter now. “It was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. One second you’re about to get skewered, and the next, you’re glowing like some spirit out of a ghost story. Your movements—hell, it wasn’t even you fighting. It was like watching someone possessed. What the hell was that, Kenji?”
Kenji furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I just… I was so angry. I thought I was going to die, and then this power—it just… happened. I don’t even know how.”
Taro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, whatever it was, it saved both our hides. Can’t say I’m a fan of strange magic stuff, but I’m also not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.” He gave Kenji a pointed look. “You’re lucky it didn’t kill you outright. You’ve got to be careful with things like that.”
Kenji nodded weakly, though his mind was already racing. He recalled the system notification—the words about "Void's Embrace" and some kind of shroud. He tried to focus, willing more information to appear, but the system offered nothing further. He felt frustration bubbling up alongside his exhaustion, but he pushed it down for now. There was no point in dwelling on it without answers.
Taro shifted, his tone brightening slightly. “While you’ve been napping, I’ve been busy. Found their stash—a whole underground cellar dug out under one of the bigger tents. It’s packed with food, probably stolen from villages all over. Lucky for us, they had a makeshift cart tucked away too. It’s rickety, but it’ll do the job for hauling some of this stuff back to the village.”
Kenji managed a small smile. “That’s… good. We can help them.”
“Yeah,” Taro said, though his voice was tinged with weariness. “We’ll take what we can carry back first and come for the rest later. For now, you’re going to rest a bit longer while I get everything prepped. Don’t argue—you're in no shape to do much of anything right now.”
Kenji wanted to protest, but Taro’s tone left no room for debate. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of respite as the older man busied himself with loading the cart. An hour passed before Taro returned, helping Kenji to his feet. Every muscle in Kenji’s body screamed in protest, but he gritted his teeth and managed to stand, leaning heavily on Taro for support.
“Ready to head back?” Taro asked, his gruff voice softening slightly.
Kenji nodded, his determination outweighing his pain. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
As Kenji stepped out he almost started puking at the sudden sight of the camp again. Bodies lay all over, some Taro had pushed aside to get the cart through. Spattering of blood was everywhere and some body parts that were cut off by Taro in the battle. Ignoring the sight he moved to walk towards the cart with Taro.
Taro placed a hand on Kenji's shoulder, "Don't dwell on this, but don't try and ignore the feelings either. Blood and death can be a evil necessity of life, it can be hard to deal with the blood you spill. Deal with them when you are somewhere safe and quiet, they are a part of what keeps a solider human instead of turning into evil men like these raiders who get glee from the carnage.
Kenji nodded, seeking to keep those feelings distant until later when he could work through them. He'd taken many lives in the span of what he thought was two days. Two days. Just two days. And somehow his entire world was flipped upside down.
Together, they began the long journey back to the village, the cart creaking under the weight of its cargo. Taro would have to handle most of the work, but Kenji intended to do what he could along the way, even in his weakened state. Each step forward felt like a victory, a small triumph in the face of everything they had endured. And though Kenji’s body ached and his mind swirled with unanswered questions, he felt a flicker of pride in being able to bring the food back. They had survived, and they had a chance to make things right. For now, that was enough.
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Kenji adjusted his grip on the makeshift cart, his legs trembling under the weight of exhaustion as the village finally came into view through the thinning trees. The sight of the distant rooftops and faint smoke from the chimneys was a balm to his battered spirit. Taro walked ahead of him, guiding the way as they reached the forest’s edge.
Suddenly, Taro stopped. His entire body went rigid, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. Kenji paused, confused.
“Taro?” Kenji called, his voice uncertain. “What’s wrong?”
Taro didn’t answer. In fact, Kenji noticed it was not just Taro that stopped moving. Nothing moved—not Taro, not the trees, not the grass swaying in the breeze. Even the creaking of the cart had stopped, the world now locked in an eerie, oppressive stillness. Kenji’s breath hitched as a cold sensation ran down his spine. It was as if reality itself had been paused, frozen in time.
A notification appeared in his vision, its glowing words stark against the strange stillness around him.
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Trial Complete.
No further trials will be assigned.
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Kenji blinked in disbelief. His heart sank as he read the next line.
"What?" Kenji muttered aloud, his voice cutting through the dead silence. Confusion gave way to frustration, a deep irritation bubbling up inside him. Was that it? Was the system done with him already? He'd struggled so hard to protect these peoples, and now he wouldn't even get to see them or give them the much needed food. No explanation, no real guidance this whole time—just stupid notifications now leaving him in limbo.
Before he could dwell on his rising anger, a brilliant white light erupted around him, blinding him entirely. The forest vanished, the cart disappeared, and the stillness shattered as he was pulled into the light’s embrace. His body felt weightless, his mind overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all. And then, as suddenly as it began, the light faded.
Kenji’s vision gradually adjusted to the surreal, tranquil scene before him. The air was cool and damp, carrying a faint, earthy scent. He stood at the edge of a vast underground lake, its surface so still it mirrored the ethereal glow of its surroundings. The cavern was massive, its high ceiling barely visible, bathed in hues of green and blue emanating from strange bioluminescent plants.
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The flora around him was both mesmerizing and unnerving. Strange flowers and vines twisted along the cavern walls, their petals seemingly in full bloom. Yet, as Kenji stepped closer to examine them, he realized they were simultaneously wilting—edges curling and browning as though caught in the throes of decay. It was as if these plants were trapped in a perpetual cycle of life and death, unable to truly move forward in either direction.
The heart of the cavern was dominated by a shrine, standing solemnly on an island of black stone in the middle of the lake. The structure was ancient, its once-pristine carvings weathered by the ages, cracks and jagged scars running along its surface. Shadows pooled around its base, clinging unnaturally to the stone, writhing as though alive. The oppressive atmosphere surrounding it was heavy, almost suffocating. It didn’t feel like a place of worship; it felt more like a graveyard—a final resting place where something long forgotten had been left to fester.
A single bridge of dark, polished stone arched over the lake, connecting Kenji’s side of the cavern to the shrine. The water beneath it was eerily reflective, showing faint glimmers of light from the luminescent plants, and yet the reflections seemed twisted, distorted—warped as though by an unseen hand.
Kenji’s attention snapped to the shrine’s entrance. A figure stood there, tall and cloaked in rippling shadows that seemed to breathe and shift like liquid smoke. Its form was indistinct, almost as if it refused to fully exist within this plane of reality. Though it made no move toward him, its presence was suffocating, heavy with the weight of something ancient and unknowable.
He reached instinctively for the broken hilt of the katana at his side, his hand brushing against it as his heart pounded in his chest. The figure remained motionless, a silent sentinel watching him from across the bridge. Its presence felt both ominous and expectant, as if it were waiting for him to act.
The oppressive stillness of the cavern pressed down on him, broken only by the faint sound of his shallow breaths. Kenji’s gaze darted back to the strange plants lining the cavern walls, their vibrant petals shivering faintly as though in anticipation.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to speak, his voice trembling. “Where… am I?”
The figure did not respond, nor did it move. It simply stood there, watching. Shadows shifted at its feet, pooling and swirling unnaturally around the entrance to the shrine. . Taking a hesitant step forward towards the shrine, his boots barely made a sound against the stone, and the rippling shadows seemed to stretch toward him.
As Kenji neared the shrine, the shadowy figure before the doors turned silently, stepping inside as the massive, weathered doors creaked open of their own accord. A veil of shadows spilled from the entrance, thick and impenetrable, swallowing all light and making it impossible to glimpse what lay within. It wasn’t just darkness; it felt alive, shifting and curling like a sentient mist guarding whatever secrets the shrine held.
Kenji stopped just short of the veil, his heart pounding in his chest. His instincts screamed caution, but his curiosity—his need to understand—pushed him forward. Tentatively, he reached out a hand. The veil gave way without resistance, cool and almost liquid-like as his fingers disappeared into its depths. It sent a shiver up his spine, but there was space on the other side, he was certain of it. Taking a deep breath, he stepped fully through, his vision momentarily swallowed by shadows.
When his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a chamber that seemed like an echo of the outer shrine, but far more intricate. The walls were covered in twisting vines and glowing plants, their soft blue and green light casting an eerie luminescence across the space.
Flowers bloomed from withered, skeletal stalks, as if suspended in a paradoxical state between death and full life. The air felt heavier here, weighted with an ancient solemnity, and the shrine itself gave off the unmistakable air of a graveyard. Kenji couldn’t decide whether the place was peaceful or unsettling—it seemed to balance precariously between the two.
At the chamber’s center stood a low table, a chabudai that looked as though it had been lifted straight out of the feudal era. It was elegant, worn with age, yet polished and well cared for. Beside it sat the shadowy figure, legs crossed, posture relaxed. The figure raised a hand, beckoning Kenji to sit.
Uneasy but driven, Kenji moved forward, lowering himself onto the opposite side of the table. His gaze flickered across the room, taking in the soft glow of the plants and the shifting shadows that still clung to the figure like a cloak.
“Where am I?” Kenji asked, his voice quiet but firm.
The figure didn’t immediately respond. Instead, the shadows surrounding it began to peel away, layer by layer, like smoke dissipating into the air. Kenji stiffened as the figure’s features were revealed—his own face stared back at him, smirking with the same crooked grin he had seen in his own reflection countless times.
“Finally,” the duplicate said, leaning slightly forward. Its voice was his, but smoother, more confident, laced with a playful edge. “I was wondering how long you’d just sit there gawking. Go on, start asking all those questions spinning around in that head of yours. I know you’ve got plenty.”
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Kenji’s mouth fell open as his voice caught in his throat. His own face—his smirk, his posture—was staring back at him. The eerie glow of the chamber flickered across the features of this… duplicate, giving it an uncanny realism. His mind spun in confusion, and all he could manage to whisper was, “What…?”
The other Kenji laughed, leaning back against the table and gesturing lazily around the room as if this were the most natural situation in the world. “What? That’s it? No dramatic gasps or existential freak-outs? Come on, you’ve got to have more than just ‘what’ for me.”
Kenji stared, the words not coming, his mind racing with the chaos of questions clawing to be asked.
The duplicate Kenji rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation, tapping a finger against the table. “Fine, let me help you out here, farm boy. I’m here to answer any and all of your burning questions—what’s been happening to you, what the hell those trials were about, what all this ‘void walker’ stuff means. At least what I actually know about it. I’m your one-stop shop for existential clarity. So go ahead—ask away.”
Kenji swallowed hard, shaking his head to gather himself. “I… I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly.
The duplicate grinned knowingly. “That’s fair. It’s been a hell of a ride so far, hasn’t it? Look, let’s start with the basics. The trials you went through—those were supposed to help you uncover who you are and forge a connection to your essences. Most people go through a whole series of them, y’know? A nice, gradual progression of challenges. But you? You got thrown into the deep end. The system shoved you right into the nastiest trials it had and you showed your essence connections way earlier than most people do. Congratulations, overachiever.”
Kenji blinked, still trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “Essence connections?” he muttered.
The other Kenji leaned forward, a playful glint in his eye. “See? There we go. Now we’re getting somewhere. Keep the questions coming.”
Kenji’s confusion quickly turned into a barrage of questions. “What’s the point of all of this? The trials, the fights, the endless chaos? Am I just some puppet being strung along by this ‘system’? And essences—what even are they? Why do I have them? What does that even mean?” His voice cracked slightly as the frustration and pent-up emotions spilled out.
The other Kenji waited patiently, his smirk softening into something almost empathetic. When Kenji finally ran out of steam, his doppelgänger leaned back against the table, tapping a finger against the wood as he spoke. “Alright, deep breaths, farmer boy. Let’s break this down.”
He gestured to the room around them, the strange glowing plants and perpetual bloom of wilting flowers, as though it all made perfect sense. “First off, the trials—they’re not some sadistic game the system cooked up just to mess with you. They’re about discovery. Not just about you learning who you are, but about you proving it to yourself. Your actions, your choices, your words—they all reveal the patterns you live by. And those patterns? Those are what connect you to your essences.”
Kenji frowned, trying to follow. “Connect to them how?”
“Glad you asked,” the other Kenji said with a grin, leaning forward like a teacher explaining something to an eager student. “An essence isn’t something you pick up like a shiny rock, and it’s not something that latches onto you randomly. It’s… a concept, an idea, a fundamental truth of the universe. Fire, wind, death, life, space, time—all of it exists out there, whether you’re aware of it or not. And somewhere along the way, you—your life, your choices, your beliefs—started to resonate with some of those truths. That resonance? That’s what forms a connection.”
Kenji’s expression hardened as he absorbed the words. “So… people just live their lives and, what, accidentally form these connections?”
“Not ‘accidentally,’” the other Kenji corrected, pointing at him. “Naturally. It’s like a fisherman who spends his whole life loving and respecting the sea. He doesn’t wake up one day and decide, ‘I’m going to form a connection with water.’ It just happens because of who he is, how he lives, how he sees the world. He resonates with the essence of water, with its flow, its rhythm, its power.”
The other Kenji smirked at the silence that stretched between them. The air in the shrine felt heavy, like the weight of the shadows was pressing down on Kenji’s chest. “So,” the shadowy figure said, his voice playful yet edged with gravity, “are you going to sit there gawking all day, or are you going to ask the questions I know are clawing at your mind?”
Kenji hesitated, his mind swirling with everything he wanted to know. He finally drew in a deep breath and asked the question that burned most urgently. “What’s… the void? What does it mean? Why do I have it? What even is a Void Walker?”
The other Kenji leaned back slightly, shadows flickering along his face. “Ah, straight to the big one. Good. Let’s start simple. The void isn’t like the elements or concepts you’re familiar with. It’s not fire, water, earth, or wind. It’s not something tangible. The void is… nothing. But not just nothing. It’s the absence of everything. Think about creation stories, like the one in the Bible—you know, the whole ‘God created everything from nothing’ line. That nothing? That’s the void.”
Kenji furrowed his brows. “So… it’s just the absence of stuff? Like empty space?”
The smirk deepened. “Not quite. The void is more than just a vacuum or emptiness. It’s the origin of all things. Before there was light, there was darkness. Before there was existence, there was nothing. The void is the canvas upon which creation was painted, and it’s also the force that takes everything back when its time is done. It’s the opposite of creation—the force of annihilation.”
Kenji felt a chill creep up his spine. “Annihilation?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” the other Kenji said. “It’s not about destruction for the sake of destruction. The void isn’t evil—it’s necessary. Just like a forest fire clears the way for new growth, the void erases what needs to be erased to maintain balance. Sometimes things become too dangerous, too corrupt, too broken to fix. That’s where the Void Walker comes in.”
Kenji blinked, his throat dry. “The Void Walker… that’s me?”
“That’s you,” the shadowy doppelgänger confirmed. “The Void Walker is a role, a position. You’ve been chosen—or cursed, depending on how you look at it—to wield the power of the void and deal with the things that threaten the integrity of life itself. Your job is to bring annihilation to those threats, permanently.”
Kenji’s stomach twisted at the thought. “Why me?” he asked, his voice shaky. “I’m just a farm kid. There are people stronger, smarter, more capable—”
“Why you?” The other Kenji tilted his head, a glimmer of pity in his smirk. “Because it is you. That’s the answer. The void chose you, not because you’re the strongest or the smartest, but because you’re you. You don’t need to understand why right now. What matters is that you have the power and the responsibility. The question isn’t why—it’s what you’re going to do with it.”
Kenji clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing. He wasn’t sure if he felt empowered or crushed under the weight of it all. His mind raced with more questions, but one finally slipped free. “Is that… all there is to me? The void? Is that the only essence I have a connection to?”
The other Kenji’s smirk faded into a knowing smile. “Oh no, farmer boy. The void’s just the start.”
Kenji’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”
The doppelgänger leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You’ve connected to more than just the void. You’ve got two other essences tied to your soul, even if you haven’t realized it yet. Care to guess what they are?”
Kenji shook his head, dreading the answer. The other Kenji’s smile widened, and he spoke slowly, savoring the moment. “Death. And shadow.”
Kenji froze. The words hit him like a physical blow. “Death? Shadow?” he repeated, his voice trembling.
“Death,” the other Kenji said, his tone calm but firm. “The essence of endings, of mortality, of the inevitability that all things must one day cease. And shadow—the essence of duality, of light and darkness intertwined, of secrets and subtleties. These aren’t just random connections, Kenji. They’re a reflection of who you are.”
Kenji felt the air leave his lungs, his mind struggling to process what he was hearing. “I… I don’t understand,” he whispered. “What does that even mean about me?”
The other Kenji leaned back again, his expression softening. “It means you’re more complicated than you think, farmer boy. And it means your journey’s only just begun.”