Chapter 14 - Trial of the Forsaken
“Hello, Abyssal Heir.”
The pressure intensified. It wasn’t just weight—it was presence, an overwhelming force that crushed any illusion of resistance. Jae-Hyun forced his head to move, even an inch, to see who was speaking. His vision sharpened, and there, at the center of the distorted throne room, he saw him.
Seated on a throne of scorched bone and blackened steel, a tall, imposing figure rested his arm against the armrest as if he had been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time. His body, though humanoid, shifted subtly, as if he wasn’t entirely tethered to this reality. The long, charred cloak draped over his form shimmered with an eerie, consuming darkness, its edges dissolving into embers.
Golden eyes burned through the shadows, staring directly into Jae-Hyun.
“So,” the figure said, leaning forward, “You’re the one carrying his will. What a joke.”
Jae-Hyun grit his teeth, his muscles straining against whatever was pinning him down. The sheer force of the aura pressing against him made every breath an act of defiance.
“Who the hell are you?” he managed to force out, his voice rough.
The figure tilted his head, a slow, deliberate motion, as if considering the question. Then, he let out a low chuckle.
“I am Belmoth, the Harbinger of the Forsaken.” “The Third General who carved a new path when our King grew weak.” “The same King whose remnants now cling to you like a dying ember.”
The words carried weight beyond mere arrogance—they resonated in the very fabric of the air, as though this place itself acknowledged his authority.
Jae-Hyun clenched his fists. The Third General... One of the betrayers. The ones who turned against the Demon King and ushered in his downfall.
A slow smirk formed on Belmoth’s lips.
“Let me look at you properly, shadow bearer.”
Jae-Hyun blinked.
And in that single instant, Belmoth was no longer on the throne.
He was inches from Jae-Hyun’s face.
A freezing grip clamped onto Jae-Hyun’s sword before he could even unsheathe it.
The sheer speed—no, the absence of movement—sent a shiver of instinctive terror down Jae-Hyun’s spine. It wasn’t teleportation. It wasn’t movement. It was simply happening.
Belmoth leaned in ever so slightly, his golden eyes burning with amusement.
“Do you truly believe yourself worthy of wielding his will?”
Jae-Hyun gritted his teeth, trying to pull his weapon free, but the immovable force holding it down was absolute. He had never felt something like this—not even against the Tower's strongest foes.
He had fought S-rank threats, endured the agony of Thragath's rage mode, barely surviving his brutal duel against Kaelzar in the depths of that cursed trial, but this was different. This was not something that belonged in the Tower. This was far beyond it.
Then, the world shifted.
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Jae-Hyun never realized it was happening. One moment, he was locked in Belmoth’s grip—the next, he was standing somewhere else.
Yet, it felt as if he had always been there.
The air was cold.
The Hollow Dreadlands.
No.
He was back where it all began.
Jae-Hyun felt his breath hitch, his hands trembling as he reached for his chest—his system was gone. His power was gone. There was no escape. The air stung with the putrid scent of rot, the wind carrying whispers of forgotten souls.
A shadow moved.
Laughter echoed in the darkness.
Tae-Jun stepped forward.
“You really thought you could change anything? You were always meant to die here.”
Jae-Hyun’s body froze. The weight of it all came crashing down. This was real.
It had always been real.
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Jae-Hyun lived through visions of loss, failure, betrayal.
Ahri and Mi-Rae stood before him, their gazes devoid of the warmth he once knew. Ahri’s lips pressed into a thin line, her sharp stare distant, detached. Mi-Rae, once the light in his darkness, looked through him as though he were no more than a ghost. His throat tightened, yet no words came. They took a step back. Another. He reached out—his body refused to move. The silence between them was heavier than steel, suffocating. They turned, fading into the mist as though they had never been there. Jae-Hyun could do nothing but watch as the last ties to his past slipped away, leaving him in a hollow, endless void.
Kaelzar knelt, his once-commanding figure reduced to a broken form. His shoulders trembled beneath an unseen force, his head bowed so low it seemed he would collapse beneath its weight. Belmoth stood over him, golden eyes filled with amusement as he placed a clawed hand atop Kaelzar’s head, his smirk widening in mockery. Jae-Hyun wanted to scream, to reach out and shake him back to his senses—but Kaelzar did not resist. He did not fight back. His silence was worse than a scream. Worse than any betrayal. Jae-Hyun’s breath hitched, his chest constricting as Kaelzar, the warrior who had once stood unwavering, became nothing more than a tool for the enemy. The once-mighty warrior does not resist, does not raise his sword in defiance. His head is bowed low, his form trembling under the weight of the betrayal he had once fought against. Belmoth places a hand upon his head as if bestowing a cruel blessing, and Kaelzar does not flinch. He does not speak—he cannot. Jae-Hyun watches in horror as Kaelzar, the general who had stood unwavering in the past, submits to the very force that had sought to destroy him.
He watched himself die, again and again. His body was torn apart by the beasts of the Tower, his screams lost to the void. Then he was kneeling before Tae-Jun, the cold bite of steel sinking into his chest as his brother’s sneer remained the last thing he saw. Another moment, he staggered through the Hollow Dreadlands, his body wasting away with each step until the world swallowed him whole. Then, the worst came—Belmoth, standing over him, golden eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. A hand, cold and merciless, pierced through his heart. Jae-Hyun gasped, choking on his own blood, his vision darkening. The world reset. The agony began anew. Again. And again. No escape. No end. Only death, stretching into eternity.
And it all felt real. The air. The blood. The emotions.
He couldn’t fight it.
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Then—he woke up. Panting. Shaking.
Belmoth was still there.
Still watching.
“Pathetic.”
Then he raised his hand.
“Ver’dath. Remind him what true suffering feels like.”
The world around Jae-Hyun hadn’t stopped shaking.
His body still remembered the pain, his lungs burned with every breath, his fingers trembled against the cold floor. It was as if his soul itself had been ripped apart and sewn back together, over and over again.
Yet the nightmare hadn’t ended.
A thunderous sound echoed through the twisted throne room, shaking the very foundations of this eerie, foreign realm. Jae-Hyun forced his gaze upward, his vision still blurred by the weight of the illusions he had endured.
A towering figure stepped forward, his name glowing bright red in the corner of Jae-Hyun's flickering system interface:
Ver’dath
Jae-Hyun’s breath hitched as he instinctively tried to move—but his body refused to obey. He was spent. Broken. Cracked in ways he had never been before.
Ver’dath was a monster. His massive frame, wrapped in jagged black armor, exuded an oppressive aura of raw carnage. A wicked axe, nearly the size of Jae-Hyun himself, rested in his grasp. The air trembled with his mere presence.
Belmoth’s voice carried across the chamber, filled with mocking amusement.
“He endures, but he does not learn.”
Jae-Hyun clenched his jaw, struggling against the weight pressing down on him.
“Very well,” Belmoth continued, waving his hand lazily. “Break him.”
Ver’dath moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
The moment the warlord launched forward, Jae-Hyun barely had the chance to register his approach before a massive axe cleaved through the air, slamming into him like a comet crashing into the earth.
CRACK!
His ribs shattered instantly. His body was sent hurtling backward, smashing against the twisted obsidian walls of the chamber. White-hot pain exploded through his bones, his mind barely able to process the sheer force of the blow.
He couldn’t even react.
Jae-Hyun collapsed onto the cold stone, his vision swimming. His system flickered, barely holding onto coherence.
Warning: Severe Damage Sustained.
Health: 13% Remaining.
He coughed, blood splattering against the floor. His hands trembled as he tried to push himself up—but before he could even lift his body, Ver’dath’s iron grip closed around his throat.
Jae-Hyun’s breath hitched as he was lifted off the ground.
The warlord pulled him up like he weighed nothing, holding him aloft with one hand. The massive, jagged axe gleamed in the dim light as it rose once more.
Ver’dath let out a guttural, inhuman snarl, a sound that reverberated through the chamber like a death knell. His voice was not one of words, but of raw intent—a cacophony of growls and monstrous reverberations that sent shivers through Jae-Hyun’s spine.
The axe came down.
Jae-Hyun had no time to react—only a single moment of realization before the massive blade buried itself into his side.
Agony. Raw and unfiltered. It was as though his very essence was being split apart.
Critical Damage Sustained.
Warning: System Stabilization Failing.
A strangled, broken sound escaped Jae-Hyun’s lips. His vision wavered. His mind screamed for him to fight back, but his body was already failing.
Belmoth let out a mocking chuckle, stepping forward, his golden eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
“A disappointment, truly.”
Jae-Hyun’s body spasmed, his breath ragged, his limbs barely responsive.
Belmoth leaned closer, his voice smooth, cruel.
“Perhaps your sister or your little companion will put up more of a fight.”
Jae-Hyun’s heart stopped.
The words sank into him like molten steel, searing through the pain, through the haze, through the despair that had settled in his bones.
And something inside him snapped.
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A wave of unfathomable darkness surged outward.
The twisted throne room shook violently, the very air distorting under the force of Jae-Hyun’s sudden release of power.
His body moved before his mind could register it.
The shadows beneath him erupted, his aura distorting as his vision was consumed by an overwhelming, blinding rage.
He tore himself free from Ver’dath’s grasp, his form flickering, warping as dark energy coursed through his veins like liquid fire.
The warlord barely had time to react before Jae-Hyun was upon him.
A single devastating strike.
His sword tore through Ver’dath’s armor like it was paper. The warlord staggered back, golden ichor spilling from the wound. His red glowing name flickered, rapidly dimming.
Jae-Hyun didn’t stop.
His mind burned.
His body moved on instinct.
Ver’dath never had a chance.
With one final rage-fueled blow, Jae-Hyun ripped through the warlord’s chest, the massive figure collapsing in a heap, his red name fading into nothingness.
Dead.
The room shook, the sheer intensity of the energy still radiating from Jae-Hyun cracking the very walls of the throne room.
Jae-Hyun roared, his vision consumed by pure, undiluted fury. The rage clawed at his mind, drowning out all reason. His body moved on instinct, raw power surging through his veins. He tore through the distance toward Belmoth, his sword gleaming with dark energy.
But the moment he closed the distance—Belmoth struck.
A flick of his wrist. A casual movement. Yet it carried the force of an executioner's blade.
Jae-Hyun barely registered the attack before he felt the impact—a crushing blow to his ribs. His body lurched violently, the air torn from his lungs as he staggered. Another hit followed instantly. A devastating strike to his shoulder sent him spiraling backward.
His system screamed.
Warning: Health at 8%.
Jae-Hyun pushed forward one last time, swinging with all the strength left in his battered frame. Belmoth didn’t move.
Jae-Hyun’s blade whistled through empty air.
And then—a palm to his chest.
His entire body went numb. The impact sent a violent shockwave through his system, shutting down every function at once. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His muscles refused to respond, as though every nerve in his body had been severed.
BOOM!
His body exploded backward, hurtling across the throne room. He slammed into the farthest wall with a deafening crash, the stone cracking beneath the impact.
Warning: Health at 2%. Critical Condition Detected. Severe System Instability
Jae-Hyun's limbs refused to move. His vision blurred.
His mind screamed at him to stand.
Through the haze of his fading consciousness, he saw Belmoth watching. Amused. Untouched. Unshaken.
Jae-Hyun tried to move. Nothing.
He willed his arms, his legs—anything—to respond, but they remained frozen, limp and unresponsive. No matter how hard he tried, his body refused to obey. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind, but even that was drowned out by the relentless weight pressing him down. He forced his fingers to tighten around the hilt of his sword, sheer desperation driving him forward. His limbs barely obeyed, his breath ragged, his vision swimming. Yet, his fury burned stronger than his failing body, forcing him to move when nothing else would.
A deep growl escaped his throat, his fury bubbling into something primal, uncontrollable. His mind refused to accept defeat.
He pushed forward with everything he had left, his body screaming in protest as he launched himself at Belmoth, his blade raised for one final, desperate strike.
And in the blink of an eye—Belmoth had moved faster than thought, materializing in front of him before he even processed it.
A hand wreathed in overwhelming force gripped Jae-Hyun’s skull, and before he could even react, his body was ripped from the air and obliterated into the wall with a force that rattled the entire chamber.
Belmoth’s golden eyes burned with amusement, his voice calm, almost bored.
“Seems I overstayed. You got lucky.” “I wanted to see what was so special about you. There was nothing.” “A waste of time.”
The world began to fade.
Warning: Vital Signs Critical.System Recovery Unavailable. Forcing Emergency Shutdown...
His blurred vision locked onto Belmoth one last time. He wanted to move. To fight. To do anything.
But he couldn't.
And then—
Jae-Hyun was alone.
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Jae-Hyun drifted in absolute nothingness.
There was no air, no light, no sound. Only a suffocating void, stretching endlessly in every direction. His body—if he even had one—was unresponsive. The last thing he remembered was Belmoth's overwhelming presence, the feeling of being completely powerless, crushed against the wall like an insect.
Then—darkness.