Darkness closed in like a tide. The marble courtyard, the runes, the guardians watching from their silver hoods, all dissolved into a weightless void. Ren stood on nothing, yet felt the pressure of ground beneath his feet. The air was cold but thick, as though it remembered things he did not.

Nyxa's voice stirred in his thoughts. "So it begins. Alone, as it was meant to be. That battlefield was gone without any trial. Maybe it's a warning for weaker."

Ren's eyes narrowed into the dark. "You sound pleased."

A soft laugh rippled through him, like water disturbed by a stone. "Should I not be? You have stepped where others fall before they begin. Most who face these trials break long before the circle even closes."

Ren took a step forward. The ground appeared beneath him, pale stone stretching outward like a bridge suspended in the void. "And what of those who succeed?"

"Few succeed," she said. "Those who do are never the same."

The bridge carried him forward, each step echoing faintly though there were no walls to return the sound. Far ahead, a shape rose in the dark. A door, carved from ancient wood, tall enough to scrape the unseen sky. Symbols pulsed faintly across its surface, shifting with every heartbeat.

Nyxa hummed softly. "A door. How fitting. Behind it lies what you fear most. Or perhaps what you long for. The trial has a sense of humor."

Ren placed his hand against the wood. It was warm, like flesh instead of bark. The symbols flared beneath his touch. The door opened soundlessly.

He stepped through.

The air changed. He stood in a village that should not have existed. Familiar houses lined a dirt path. The smell of smoke and bread carried on the wind. Laughter echoed from the distance, children running past with wooden toys in their hands. For a moment, Ren could not breathe.

Nyxa's voice was quiet now, almost tender. "Ah. They have chosen well. Memory is sharper than any blade."

Ren moved forward, though his steps felt heavy. He knew these houses. He knew the sound of the stream that wound through the edge of the village. He knew the face that turned toward him at the door of one of the houses.

It was his mother.

She looked as she had years ago, before the fire, before the screams. Her eyes widened when she saw him. She smiled. "Ren, you are late again."

Ren stopped in the road. The world pulsed faintly, as if it were holding its breath.

Nyxa whispered, "Do you see? This is no trick of light. The trial reaches inside you. What you refuse to face, it places before you."

His mother beckoned him closer. "Come, the meal is ready."

Ren's jaw tightened. His hand curled into a fist at his side. "This is not real."

Her smile faltered. "What do you mean, my son?"

For the first time since the trial began, Ren's voice shook. "You are gone."

The woman stepped closer, her hand outstretched, gentle, pleading. "No, Ren. I have always been here. You only needed to return."

The village quieted. The laughter stopped. Every figure turned toward him, their faces blurred and shifting, yet familiar. People he had lost. People he could not save.

Nyxa's voice changed again, soft but edged with something sharper. "Careful. The trial will not release you if you reach for them. It will bind you. That is how it claims the unworthy."

Ren stood frozen. The weight of years pressed against him, every failure, every face. His chest tightened as if the air itself had turned to stone.

He closed his eyes, forcing breath through clenched teeth. "I will not kneel to ghosts."

The moment the words left him, the figures flickered. His mother's hand dissolved into smoke. The village wavered, crumbling into ash that fell upward instead of down.

Nyxa let out a low laugh, though there was no mockery in it. "Well done. Though I admit, for a moment, I wondered if you would give in. Your silence has always been heavy, Ren. Heavier than your shadow."

Ren opened his eyes again. The void returned, endless and waiting. The bridge of stone stretched ahead once more.

He stepped forward without looking back.

Nyxa's tone grew amused again. "Do not hurry. The trial will not end with one door. There are always more doors."

The void shifted.

The door's stone fell away, leaving Ren standing on a wide arena carved from black rock. The ground pulsed with faint crimson veins, each beat echoing like the thrum of a buried heart. High above, jagged cliffs rose into shadow, their edges glowing faintly with runes.

Nyxa's voice stirred in his thoughts. "At last, something honest. No tricks, no pretty illusions. Just teeth and claws. You will bleed here, Ren. The only question is how much."

Ren scanned the space. The arena was empty at first, too still. Then the runes along the cliffs flared. The ground split open, and the first challenger rose from the fissure.

A beast of molten stone dragged itself upright, eyes burning like furnaces. Its body cracked with glowing fault lines, each breath spilling ash and smoke. It roared, and the air itself trembled.

Nyxa gave a soft, mocking hum. "They send you a toy first. How generous."

Ren raised his hand. The silver ring pulsed once, a thread of dark mana spilling through his veins. He stepped forward, the air bending faintly around him. The beast charged, each step shaking the ground.

Ren moved at the last instant. The creature's molten fist shattered stone where he had stood. Shadows coiled at his fingertips. With a single strike, he unleashed a spear of black energy that pierced through the creature's chest.

The beast shrieked, molten blood spraying in arcs of fire. But it did not fall. Its body closed around the wound, stone knitting back together.

Nyxa's laughter filled the silence between roars. "It heals, Ren. Did you think they would make it easy for you?"

Ren tightened his grip on the shadows. He circled, watching the rhythm of the molten veins. The creature swung again, a wall of fire sweeping toward him. He plunged through the heat, shadows curling to shield his body. He struck low this time, carving through its leg.

The beast stumbled, cracked stone groaning under its weight. Before it could rise, Ren drove both hands forward. Darkness surged, tearing through its core. The molten light inside flickered and died. The beast collapsed into shards, smoke hissing where it fell.

The arena was silent again. Ren exhaled, shoulders steady.

Nyxa whispered with amusement. "You are still standing, though I confess, watching you carve stone beasts is less boring than listening to you sulk in silence."

The runes flared again. This time, two shapes emerged. Armored warriors, their bodies forged from steel, their swords nearly the length of Ren's body. Their visors glowed with cold fire, and when they stepped forward, the air rang with the clash of metal.

Nyxa's tone sharpened, though still playful. "Now this will be better. They are not beasts. They think. They move. Do not disappoint me."

Ren steadied his breath. The warriors raised their blades, moving in perfect unison. Their footwork was precise, their pace relentless. The first swing came fast, a downward arc that split the air. Ren caught it with a surge of darkness that wrapped his arm like armor. The weight jarred his bones, forcing him back a step.

The second warrior moved in, blade sweeping low. Ren twisted, shadows bracing his body as he rolled aside. Sparks flew as the steel cleaved into the stone floor.

He retaliated, unleashing a burst of black energy in a wide arc. The shadows struck the armor but did not pierce. The warriors staggered, only to recover instantly, moving as if one mind drove both bodies.

Nyxa's voice hummed again. "You are pushing without aim. Find their core, Ren. Everything forged has a fault."

Ren grit his teeth, studying their rhythm. Their swings alternated, no pause between them. A rhythm designed to suffocate. He waited for the smallest gap.

When it came, he moved. He stepped into the swing instead of away, shadows coiling around his arm. The blade cut shallow into his side, pain flashing sharp, but he ignored it. His hand slammed into the warrior's chestplate. Darkness erupted like a spike, driving through the glowing slit of the visor. The fire inside flickered and went out.

The armored shell collapsed.

The second warrior pressed harder, strikes heavier, faster, as if fueled by the loss of its twin. Ren dodged once, twice, then slid under the last swing. He drove his knee into the back of its leg, forcing it down. His other hand clawed forward, shadows ripping into the visor slit again. The fire died.

The arena hushed. Ren's breathing grew heavier, sweat mixing with the blood that trickled down his ribs.

Nyxa's laughter came softer this time. "Good. You adapt. Perhaps you will not embarrass me after all."

The cliffs shuddered. More runes ignited. The stone split wider, and this time three figures rose. Not beasts. Not armored men. But tall, robed forms with skeletal hands clutching staffs of black crystal. Their empty faces tilted toward Ren, and when they raised their hands, the ground itself cried out.

Nyxa whispered in delight. "Ah. Sorcerers. This will burn, Ren. Do try not to die too quickly."

Ren lifted his hand again. His shadows coiled tighter, and his jaw set. The trial of Veron was far from over.

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