It was as if the entire world outside shifted, the wall of rain and darkness bending as though something immense was displacing it. Draemir’s breath caught as a massive silhouette loomed closer, just within view. The shape was hazy, obscured by the rain, but he could make out glimpses—a dark, hulking form, scales glinting faintly as lightning flashed.

The creature moved slightly closer, slithering, or perhaps lumbering, toward the temple steps. Just for an instant, Draemir thought it might enter. But then, with an eerie fluidity, the thing withdrew, melting back into the downpour, disappearing like a shadow retreating into the night.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

‘What. The. Hell. Is. That.’

He was sure he’d been dropped into some kind of hell. Whatever had just passed by the entrance was no ordinary beast. Its sheer size—at least ten feet tall—was enough to make his stomach churn. And that was just the height. There was no telling how long it stretched, no telling how much of it had been hidden behind the rain.

He’d seen the reflection of scales glistening in the storm, plates that looked like they could deflect a sword, maybe even repel a bullet. It was built for war, for endurance, for… dominating. Every part of him knew it instinctively, even without having seen the creature fully.

But more terrifying than its appearance was its presence. The air had felt heavy, suffocating, as if the beast’s very existence pressed down on him, paralyzing him. He’d watched it move in that horrible, slow, deliberate way for an entire minute, watching as its silhouette drifted to the right, every muscle in his body locked with fear.

‘Okay,’ he thought, his mind scrambling to keep pace with his hammering heart. ‘Nothing terrible. Just a single, ten-foot-tall, who-knows-how-long beast that I need to kill to escape this trial.’

He let out a nervous laugh, barely more than a breath. Kill it. He didn’t stand a chance. He had nothing, no weapons, no armor, and no experience fighting something like that. Even if he had the strength to face it—which he very much doubted—he had no way to pierce scales that thick, scales that looked like they could shrug off a blow from a battering ram.

A sick feeling twisted in his stomach as he imagined stepping out into the storm, confronting that creature directly. He would be crushed in seconds. Torn apart. Consumed.

And yet… wasn’t this the trial? Isn’t this what he’d been meant to face all along? His mind spun with fragments of half-understood words, the writing on the wall about dreams and death, the half-closed eye, the legacy of a dead god.

Was he supposed to fight this creature? Or just survive it?

The longer he stood there, the more the answer seemed to slip away, like water trickling through his fingers. He couldn’t think clearly, not with the memory of that aura still clinging to him, that feeling of dread that had nearly crushed him into the ground.

‘If I step outside… I’ll die. I know I will.’

Every instinct he had screamed at him to stay within the temple, to bar the doors and hide from whatever monstrous thing was lurking out there. The temple was old, abandoned, eerie… but it was shelter. It was the only thing standing between him and that creature.

But how long will it stay away? he wondered. He had no food, and the fountain water would only keep him alive for so long. Sooner or later, he’d weaken, lose the will to keep trying. Sooner or later, he’d have to leave this place—whether that meant escaping the temple or meeting his end in the storm.

His fists clenched as he took a shuddering breath, his mind caught between terror and frustration. He’d come so far, and this was how it was going to end? Starving in a crumbling temple, waiting for the courage to face a beast that could crush him without even noticing?

‘Damn it,’ he thought, anger briefly flaring up and cutting through the fear. ‘Is this really it? Survive the wasteland, survive the storm, survive all of this, just to be… trapped? Left here to rot?’

But as he looked out into the darkened rain, the beast’s silhouette still faintly lingering in his mind, the anger faded, and all that was left was the bleak, heavy certainty that he wasn’t ready.

‘No. I’ll die if I try,’ he admitted to himself, the thought as bitter as it was true.

He didn’t know what to do. And for the first time in a long while, he felt completely, utterly helpless.

But… wasn’t this exactly what he’d been looking for? He’d been practically begging the trial to throw something real at him, something more than empty rooms and symbols. He’d wanted a challenge. Or at the very least, an end.

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Well, here it was. This massive snake-like monstrosity, slithering through the storm, was probably the end he’d asked for.

Draemir’s mouth twisted into a grim smile as he thought about it. In all the stories he’d heard about ascension trials, things had sounded a bit more manageable—fight off some monster, survive a harsh environment, maybe solve some kind of riddle. But this? This felt like overkill. The beast out there wasn’t just a threat; it was the kind of nightmare that shouldn’t exist outside of legends.

What was he supposed to do? March out there and fight a creature that made the storm tremble with nothing but his bare fists?

It felt… unfair, if he was being honest. The officer had told him that the trial would be "tailored" to him, that it would be unique in some way. But staring into the endless rain, the lingering presence of that massive creature pressing on his mind, he couldn’t help but think: How is this “tailored” to me? He was just a scrawny kid from the outskirts, with little experience fighting, no weapons, and barely any food to keep him going.

Then again, he reminded himself, the officer did say you can’t really prepare for an ascension trial.

‘Well, he wasn’t wrong,’ Draemir thought bitterly. ‘How could anyone prepare to fight a beast that large?’

A flicker of resentment stirred in him. The officer didn’t exactly give me much to work with. If most people had to face creatures like this, no wonder so many failed. He’d thought he might be facing something brutal, sure, but not this. He hadn’t imagined something that could make the whole world feel small and fragile.

‘Maybe the officer didn’t know,’ he thought darkly. ‘Maybe no one really knows, because they never make it out to tell anyone…’

The thought sent an icy chill down his spine. He quickly pushed it away before it could sink its claws in, swallowing down the fear that threatened to surge up again. No, he told himself. Thinking like that isn’t going to help.

He took another breath, forcing himself to clear his mind.

Draemir was a bit lost for what to do next.

It was clear to him now that the end of this trial, whatever that meant, would come from facing the thing that lurked within the storm. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to act. He didn’t have a plan, didn’t have a strategy, didn’t even know if he was capable of standing against something so massive. And, if he was being honest, he didn’t feel ready to face it. Not yet.

So, he decided to wait.

The hunger gnawed at him, sharper now, a hollow ache in his stomach that water from the fountain couldn’t satisfy. The water sat heavy in his gut, giving him a false sense of fullness, but it did nothing to quiet the insatiable hunger that burned deeper each day. He could feel his body growing weaker, his limbs thinner and frailer, the last reserves of energy slipping away. Still, he resolved to give himself one more day—to observe, to see if he could learn something about the creature outside before he had to face it.

He sat just inside the entrance hall, where he could look out through the doorway into the storm without exposing himself to whatever was out there. The rain fell in relentless sheets, thunder rumbling in the distance, lightning cracking through the dark clouds. The storm was as magnificent and terrifying as ever, swirling around the temple like a living thing. And beyond it, hidden somewhere in that darkness, was the beast.

Every now and then, the rain would ease, the thunder would quiet, and he’d feel a prickle of awareness—like an electric charge that raised the hair on the back of his neck. In those moments, he knew, without a doubt, that it was watching him. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t even make out its silhouette in the rain, but the weight of its gaze was unmistakable. It was like being pinned down by an invisible hand, a predator’s stare that left him feeling exposed and vulnerable.

And then, just as quickly as it had come, the presence would fade, and the storm would return to its usual fury.

This cycle repeated itself over the course of the day, as Draemir sat in tense silence, his eyes fixed on the storm. Sometimes he could almost sense the creature pacing, circling the temple, never straying far but never coming too close. It was as if the temple itself held some kind of power, some unspoken boundary that kept the beast at bay. He clung to that thought, telling himself that as long as he stayed within these walls, he was safe. For now.

‘Does this thing not have anything better to do?’ he thought, exasperated as the familiar prickle of awareness settled over him yet again, only to fade moments later.

The creature didn’t seem to be watching him constantly. But it never wandered far, either. Draemir hadn’t seen it again since that first terrifying glimpse, but he didn’t need to. He could feel it out there, lurking just beyond the rain, waiting. And every time it approached, that crushing aura of raw, predatory intent pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating, reminding him that he was trapped. That he was prey.

He watched the storm for hours, feeling the strange rhythm of the creature’s movements—the way it seemed to ebb and flow with the storm, drawing closer, then retreating. And though it never crossed the threshold, never came near enough to threaten him directly, Draemir couldn’t shake the sense that it was testing him. Watching, waiting, seeing how long he would last.

He couldn’t understand it. The beast was massive—too large to enter the temple itself, he guessed. Yet it never truly approached the temple doors, as if something about this place kept it at bay. It almost seemed… wary of the temple, respecting its boundaries even as it loomed just outside.

‘Why doesn’t it just come in and end this?’ he wondered, frustration simmering under his fear. ‘Why doesn’t it just finish me off?’

The storm raged on, indifferent. The day passed in a tense stalemate, Draemir sitting on the cold stone floor, waiting for something to change, for the creature to make its move, or for the courage to face it himself to somehow materialize.

But as night fell and the shadows deepened within the temple, he was no closer to an answer. All he knew was that, come tomorrow, he might not have the strength to keep waiting.

And with that realization, he felt the weight of dread settle over him once more.