Kael fell.
The void swallowed him whole, its darkness stretching endlessly in every direction. There was no wind, no weight, no sky—only falling.
And yet, something watched him.
Not the figure from before. Not his reflection.
Something older.
The Mark on his arm burned hotter, pulsing in erratic rhythms, like a heartbeat struggling to keep up.
Then, it stopped.
Silence.
Stillness.
Kael’s feet touched solid ground.
He staggered slightly, bracing himself for impact that never came.
The void was gone.
Or rather—it had changed.
The darkness had shape now. Towering structures of obsidian and jagged stone, stretching toward a crimson sky. Ancient, broken pathways ran like veins through the landscape, leading to ruins that defied time.
Kael exhaled, steadying his stance. His breath came out visible, curling in the air like frost.
He wasn’t alone.
Figures stood in the distance—silent, unmoving. Hundreds of them.
Cloaked in shadow, wrapped in tattered robes, their faces obscured.
Watching.
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Waiting.
Kael’s muscles tensed as he took a slow step forward. None of them moved.
Not yet.
"Where am I?"
His own voice felt smaller here, swallowed by the vastness of this place.
The Mark responded before anything else.
A pulse.
A whisper.
"The place before the end."
A chill ran down Kael’s spine.
He turned his gaze back to the figures—they were closer now.
Not by movement. By will.
Kael’s grip tightened. Something was wrong.
Then—one stepped forward.
A single figure, taller than the rest, its tattered cloak swaying despite the air being deathly still.
It raised a hand.
Kael braced himself—his Mark flared—but there was no attack.
Instead, a voice—low, resonant, neither male nor female.
"You are not the first to come here."
Kael’s breath hitched.
"You will not be the last."
The Mark burned.
The ground trembled.
The sky split.
Kael gritted his teeth as the figures rushed toward him.
No hesitation. No warning.
A tide of shadows cascading toward him like a storm.
Kael moved.
His body reacted before his mind did, his instincts overriding thought. The Mark pulsed, power surging through his veins as he raised his hand—
And the first enemy erupted into dust.
The second followed.
Then the third.
Kael struck faster than thought, faster than humanly possible.
Each blow rippled outward, turning shadowed figures to nothing, their forms unraveling like whispers in the wind.
But more came.
For every one that fell, three more emerged.
Endless.
Unrelenting.
Kael’s breath turned ragged.
It wasn’t enough.
The figures pressed closer, their hollow eyes glowing with unseen power. Their hands stretched toward him—cold, clawed, insatiable.
Then—
A voice boomed.
"Enough."
Everything froze.
The shadows halted, retreating like a tide. The sky dimmed.
Kael’s pulse pounded as he turned—
And saw him.
A figure stood atop the highest platform, shrouded in a flowing black mantle, his presence demanding in a way Kael had never felt before.
He was not like the others.
His Mark was silver, like the reflection Kael had fought—but deeper, more complete. It did not flicker, did not waver.
It commanded.
"You have survived the first trial." The voice carried without effort, deep and absolute. "Now comes the choice."
Kael swallowed, forcing himself to stand taller.
"Who are you?" he asked.
A pause.
Then—
"I am what you may become."
The Mark burned.
And Kael knew—this was only the beginning.