Casper made his one-hundredth attempt, by his count at least. He had many blind charges out of frustration, but his mind was clear for this one.

Sand, blood, and fire filled the air all the while the sound of explosions rang out as he fought with everything he had. Until now, there had been few fights as important as the one he was currently in. The layer of bones protruding from his skin wasn’t scrounged from the proving ground but rather his own that he had altered after careful preparation.

Twisting his war scythe, he clashed with the guardian head-on. The hefty greatsword sought to cleave through him, but a crow would dive toward the guardian and explode, altering the guardian’s swing just enough to let Casper slip past it. That was just the being of Casper’s tricks.

Without losing his momentum, Casper lunged forward among the chaos. The previously imperceptible strikes were visible to him. He twisted his body and shifted his feet, avoiding the fatal swings by a hair’s breadth.

Striking the guardian's torso dead center gave him nothing save a few small scratches, but even those were worth something in Casper’s eyes. Between each strike, he’d fling blood toward the scratch marks, imbuing it with the property of erosion or fire.

With his persistence, those scratch marks turned into web-like cracks and as shallow as they were, they remained as a mark of progress. The mighty swings which seemed as if they could split the earth in half were nothing in the face of his unrelenting ferocity.

That was only up until the moment Casper faltered and was forced to take a powerful swing directly. The pain was jarring, but he forced his body to ignore it as he tumbled backward to disperse the momentum. Before another attack could come, he crow-shifted and pushed himself upward before changing back.

Dropping the war scythe while in the air, he took aim with the Spectral Bow. The Guardian hefted his sword, preparing to defend, but a volley of blood orbs struck him first. A series of rapid explosions prevented him from blocking the falling arrow in time and it struck his chest, creating a loud cracking sound.

The guardian’s armor had begun to break much to Casper’s delight. As he descended, the guardian prepared to pierce into him before he touched the ground, but Casper made use of the blood covering his body to steer himself away.

A whooshing sound filled his ears, which signified his narrow escape succeeded. And once he placed the war scythe within his grip once more, he resumed his assault.

The Guardian seemed to be emboldened, even after receiving some damage. Each time his blade moved, a splatter of blood from Casper would decorate his armor.

It seemed that fatigue and exhaustion had bit into Casper’s body as he quickly transitioned from attacking to desperately defending.

And then came a decisive strike–

The Guardian brought his sword down on the war scythe and snapped it in half, slicing off Casper’s arm in the process.

“A worthy attempt,” The Guardian spoke in a low voice. Rare praise he hadn’t given before.

His next strike would be one to ensure Casper would need far more time to recuperate, but he found his armor grew rigid and impeded his movements. He exerted as much strength as he could, but the metal simply groaned in response.

“This–” The Guardian was astonished as he finally noticed small glowing runes decorating the parts of his armor.

Everywhere Casper’s blood landed became a location for a “binding” rune. While they didn’t mean much alone, if a few dozen were placed in areas that would obstruct the movement of joints and tendons, they would have a greater impact.

Casper didn’t waste time being surprised that his plan worked, he just threw himself toward the guardian. The blood dripping from his severed arm expanded into a sharp tendril as he thrust into the opening in the armor.

Pushing through flesh and bone, the blood tendril split off in all directions, piercing everything it touched. The guardian let out a low grunt, but Casper wasn’t done just yet. He wanted the guardian to feel even a tenth of what he went through so he made the tendril explode, ensuring that organs were ruptured and bones were shattered.

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For a moment, he had forgotten about the fight and what he was fighting for. He held nothing back as all of the blood he could control poured inside of the guardian to make sure he understood.

“You stand...– victorious,” the guardian muttered with the last of his life, smiling with relief as he died.

Casper retracted his arm as the guardian fell backward. His huge frame crashed into the sand, kicking up dust. A complete silence fell over the ruin as a powerful soul rushed into Casper’s body, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. His victory felt equal parts hollow and astonishing.

Flashes of memories of a grand exhibition played in his mind. It seemed that the memories that were lost to the Guardian were ingrained in his soul. Seeing the lively mood surrounding the proving grounds along with the bloody failures of most challengers and the few who stood victorious and proud did nothing to comfort him.

Instead, his body sunk and his shoulders trembled. He maintained his composure as much as he could but now that everything had passed, a flood of emotion broke loose.

“Damn it,” Casper breathed out with frustration and anger.

He slammed his fists into the sand, attempting to dispel the feelings overtaking his mind, but ultimately failed.

It was like glass was trapped within his throat. He screamed and thrashed around as he vented everything that had been pent up.

It wasn’t until many moments had passed did Casper recover himself. He had belatedly noticed that a set of descending stairs leading to some dim passage appeared in front of him. It didn’t take a genius to guess whatever prize he earned lay below, so he stood up and began his trek downward.

As he stepped into the depths beneath the sand, flames appeared, granting light to the passage while revealing symbols lining the walls. He stopped at his own name with a look of astonishment.

“Names,” Casper murmured listlessly, noticing that all sorts of strange languages filled the walls.

He began to think that maybe all of the victors who had once proved themselves had their names recorded.

Pressing on further, he arrived at an inner sanctum for those who survived the proving grounds. Rusted weapons which no longer had any value littered the room as if they had been discarded.

“Perhaps what you truly seek will not be found here as your strange heritage is unknown, even to these storied halls. However, a suitable prize will be presented for a champion of the proving grounds.” A disembodied whisper reached Casper.

There were no falsehoods among its words as the souls of any other beings had long faded and there was no way knowledge of the Dread Sorcerer would appear so easily. However, as Casper stopped an altar, there was something he found eye-catching. Sitting atop a pedestal, there was a dark purple gem, the interior of the jewel stirred ominously.

“Maybe you will find the Essence of Miasma to be of use?” The voice chimed. “If it is not to your liking, there may still be items which may draw your interest but they are not as powerful, Champion.”

“I’ll take it,” Casper said dryly, but there was no answer.

It seemed as if whatever voice spoke was pre-recorded and thus unable to answer any questions he might’ve had.

As Casper approached the essence of miasma, the penumbra extended forward but was stopped by him. He clenched his hand around the translucent limb and prevented it from going further. It thrashed around rebelliously, but after a few moments it settled and he released it.

It carefully reached out and grasped the essence pearl before retreating inward.

Unlike when the penumbra absorbed multiple artifacts, the essence pearl was instantly consumed and strange energy expanded within every part of Casper’s body. His skin became flush as beads of sweat formed on his head.

“Proceed forward and bathe in the waters of victory, Champion. Once your wounds are cured, depart with pride in knowing that you emerge better than when you entered. ”

Casper did as the voice said, moving forward while breathing rapidly. Behind the altar, there was a short hallway that lead to a large bath.

As the energy within him continued to thrash around his body began to grow hotter. Just as he reached the edge of the water, a violet fire erupted from his veins and enveloped his body, withering his flesh at a rapid pace. Casper wasted no time diving into the water, submerging himself underneath causing the water to boil.

…

Hours later, Casper opened his eyes to the view of a clear blue sky.

As if everything had never happened, he found himself near the entrance. The alterations to the ruins remained, but the wall blocking his exit had vanished. Shaking off all of his exhaustion, he rose to his feet and proceeded upward. The heat of the desert and vanished during his ascent, replaced with a faint chill.

Emerging from the ruin, Casper began to survey the outside, feeling as if he was within a dream. Flurries of snow trickled down, landing on the several guild tents filling the area.

“H-Hey! He’s out!” A guard shouted as he spotted Casper.

All sorts of individuals were set into a commotion by Casper’s sudden appearance and began to move toward him, however, he headed in a different direction.

He sprinted toward a vending machine and smashed his fist into the glass, before taking as many chocolate bars as he could. As a crowd of government officials and guild representatives formed around him, Casper began to desperately engorge himself with candy.