Leon stood alone in a vast, desolate wasteland. The sky churned above him, dark clouds streaked with crimson lightning. The wind howled, carrying the scent of blood and fire.
Then, the system's voice resonated in his mind:
[Your trial is one of endurance. Survive, and you will claim your strength.]
The ground trembled.
Monstrous figures rose from the cracked earth—hulking beasts with molten eyes and jagged, obsidian claws. They surrounded him, their guttural growls reverberating through the air like an omen of death.
Leon exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. His knuckles cracked in the silence.
"Endurance, huh?" He smirked, lifting his fists. "Fine. Let's see who lasts longer."
The Onslaught Began.
The first beast lunged.
Leon twisted, dodging the swipe of its claws. His counterattack was immediate—a thunderous punch to the creature's ribs, sending it skidding backward.
Another beast pounced from behind. He caught it mid-leap, his fingers digging into its flesh before he slammed it into the ground with raw, unrelenting power. Bones shattered beneath his grip.
Then, the rest of them moved.
Dozens of monsters surged toward him, a tide of death and violence.
Leon met them head-on.
His fists tore through muscle and bone, each strike fueled by sheer willpower. Blood splattered across the battlefield—some his, most theirs. He weaved between claws and fangs, his body a storm of movement and destruction.
But they didn't stop coming.
For every one he felled, another took its place.
His breath grew ragged. His muscles screamed. Gashes lined his arms, his body battered from countless blows.
But he grinned through the pain.
This trial wasn't about killing. It was about surviving. It was about proving that no matter how many times they tried to bring him down—
He would still stand.
Minutes bled into hours. The creatures grew smarter, faster, adapting to his movements. Their strikes became more relentless, their coordination sharper.
But so did he.
Leon began to see the patterns, predicting their attacks before they came. He ducked under a sweeping claw, grabbed the beast's arm, and twisted—tearing it clean from its socket. Another lunged from his blind spot; he spun, slamming his elbow into its throat before stomping its head into the dirt.
Still, they came.
And he fought on.
All of a sudden the battlefield grew still.
The monsters backed away, their glowing eyes fixated on a single point behind Leon, all this led Leon to follow their gaze and as he did a figure emerged from the shadows—taller than the rest, draped in battle-scarred armor. A massive axe rested on his shoulder, its blade stained with ancient blood. His crimson eyes burned with intelligence and malice.
A predator among beasts.
Leon wiped the blood from his lip, rolling his shoulders.
"So you're the final test?" He smirked. "Bring it."
The warlord didn't hesitate.
His axe cleaved through the air with terrifying speed. Leon barely dodged, feeling the wind of the strike as it split the ground behind him.
He countered—his fist a blur, slamming into the warlord's ribs. It was like hitting solid steel. The giant barely flinched before retaliating with a brutal knee to Leon's gut.
The impact sent him flying.
Leon hit the ground hard, the taste of iron flooding his mouth. He coughed, struggling to breathe, but forced himself up just in time to block another strike with his forearm. The force sent a shockwave up his arm, but he refused to falter.
"Not bad..." He spat blood. "But not enough."
Summoning every ounce of strength, he surged forward. He ducked beneath the next swing, closing the distance in an instant, and unleashed a barrage of punches—each one precise, each one targeting a weak spot.
The warlord grunted as Leon's blows forced him back.
But then—
He roared.
Power surged through his massive frame. His grip on the axe tightened, and suddenly, he was faster. Stronger. His strikes became blurs of death, each one carrying the weight of a collapsing mountain.
Leon could barely keep up.
He blocked where he could. Dodged when he couldn't. His arms felt like lead, his legs shaky. The pain was unbearable.
He was being pushed back.
Then, something inside him snapped.
A voice—his own, deep and unrelenting.
"You do not fall."
His grip tightened. His breathing steadied.
"You do not break."
The warlord came at him again. Leon stepped forward to meet him.
This time—he didn't dodge.
He let the axe come down, twisting at the last second to deflect it with his forearm. The force sent shockwaves through his bones, but he didn't care. He was inside the warlord's guard now.
And that was all he needed.
Leon drove his knee into the giant's ribs. The warlord grunted, staggering for the first time. He reached out, attempting to grab Leon's throat—
Leon moved first.
He clasped his hands together and brought them down like a hammer on the warlord's wrist. The grip loosened. He twisted, wrenching free, and planted his foot before delivering a devastating spinning kick to the warlord's knee.
The giant stumbled.
Leon didn't stop.
He gathered every ounce of strength left in his body—his arms, his legs, his very soul—and threw one final, earth-shattering punch.
His fist crashed into the warlord's skull.
The impact sent shockwaves across the battlefield. The ground beneath them cracked. The warlord stood motionless for a heartbeat—then his body shattered into motes of light.
Silence.
Leon fell to one knee, gasping for breath. His body was broken, his strength nearly gone.
But he was still here.
He had endured.
The system's voice whispered in his mind:
[Trial Complete. Claim Your Strength.]
A radiant light engulfed him, warmth flooding his limbs. He clenched his fists, feeling the power surge through his veins.
Leon smirked.
"Told you I'd last longer."
Trial of the Self
Evie stood in the center of an endless mirror maze.
The reflections stretched infinitely in all directions, twisting and shifting with every breath she took. The air was thick with whispers—some distant, others painfully close.
She recognized the voices.
Some called her weak. Others mocked her failures. And some… some sounded just like her.
Then the system's voice resonated in her mind:
[Your trial is one of identity. Find your truth, or be lost forever.]
Her hands curled into fists.
A flicker of movement.
Evie turned, meeting the gaze of the first reflection as it stepped forward.
It was her—but different.
This version of her never left the ORPHANAGE. She followed orders without question. Cold. Detached. Merciless.
The reflection's eyes held no hesitation. No doubt. Only ruthless efficiency.
It attacked without warning.
Evie barely dodged in time, twisting away from the precise strike aimed at her throat. She countered with an elbow strike, fast and sharp. The impact shattered the reflection into shards of glass.
But the fragments didn't stay broken.
They shifted, reformed—
And from them, another Evie emerged.
This one was different.
She was frail, hesitant. Eyes filled with doubt.
Her movements were sloppy, desperate. She swung wildly, lacking skill, lacking confidence.
Evie hesitated.
Just for a moment.
The reflection took its chance. It struck her hard, sending her stumbling back.
Pain flared through her ribs, but she barely felt it. Her jaw clenched as she straightened.
"Enough."
More figures emerged from the mirrors.
More versions of herself.
A killer, drenched in blood. A coward, frozen in fear. A puppet, manipulated by unseen hands.
Each one reached for her.
Each one tried to drag her into their illusions.
She fought them all.
Her fists shattered glass. Her strikes cut through doubt. Her movements carved a path through the endless possibilities of who she could have been.
But she refused to be caged by what-ifs.
She had already chosen her path.
And she would see it through.
At last, the mirrors fell silent.
Only one reflection remained.
Herself. Unbroken.
Evie met her own gaze, steady and unwavering.
The whispers faded. The illusions crumbled.
Then, the system's voice returned:
[Trial Complete. Claim Your Strength.]
A doorway appeared, bathed in silver light.
Without hesitation, Evie stepped through.
Leaving the illusions behind.
Embracing the power she had rightfully earned.
Jarad was the first to step out of the void or so he thought, and the moment he stepped out of the void, a chill crawled down his spine. His instincts screamed—something was coming. The battlefield around him was eerily silent, yet the air grew heavier, the darkness stretching unnaturally, as if the very fabric of reality recoiled.
Then, the beast emerged.
A monstrous entity of living shadow, its form shifting between tangible flesh and pure darkness. It loomed over Jarad, amorphous limbs stretching and retracting like writhing serpents. Its eyes, gleaming red with predatory hunger, pierced the gloom. The very air around it distorted, as if rejecting its presence.
The system's voice whispered in his mind:
[Designation: Apex Nightmare: Shadow Spawn.]
Jarad exhaled slowly, his muscles coiling with tension. His newfound power hummed beneath his skin, gravity bending subtly around him. This fight would be different. The beast was an embodiment of the void itself, while his power—the force that bound reality together—would be its counterweight.
His lips curled into a sharp grin.
"Let's see who breaks first."
The Shadow Spawn moved first.
Tendrils of darkness lashed toward him, twisting unnaturally, faster than human eyes could track. Jarad reacted on instinct. He clenched his fist, reversing gravity in a violent pulse. The tendrils recoiled, repelled by the sudden force, but they merely melted into the shadows—reforming instantly.
His grin faded.
It's not just fast. It's formless.
The beast surged forward, its entire body elongating into a massive claw, aiming to engulf him whole. But Jarad was already in motion. He bent gravity beneath his feet and launched himself into the sky like a bullet. The claw slammed into the ground below, splitting the earth apart.
Mid-air, he retaliated.
A crushing gravitational field materialized above the beast, pressing down with the weight of a collapsing star. The Shadow Spawn shrieked as its body contorted under the immense force. Its amorphous form compressed, struggling against the overwhelming pressure.
For a moment, it seemed like he had the upper hand—
Then, the world went black.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
He opened his eyes to an abyss, his vision blurred and his senses dulled.
Jarad floated in an ocean of pure void. The battlefield, the sky, even the ground—gone. He was weightless. Untethered.
Whispers slithered into his mind.
You are nothing here.
You cannot command what does not exist.
Pain.
A clawed hand erupted from the darkness, raking across his chest. Jarad growled, twisting his body to disperse the force of the blow, but it still sent him spiraling.
Another strike—this time from behind.
Then another.
And another.
He was being hunted.
His abilities weren't reacting properly in this abyss. Gravity itself had no meaning here. The Apex Nightmare had dragged him into its domain, where light, force, and even physical laws crumbled.
For the first time in a long while, Jarad felt himself falter.
Was this how he would die?
No.
Not here.
Not to this thing.
He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to ignore the seeping cold gnawing at his mind. If gravity couldn't find an anchor in this space—
Then he would create one.
Jarad clenched his fists. The air around him shuddered as he compressed his own gravitational field, warping reality until he was an undeniable force, even within the void.
Suddenly, he existed again.
The whispers turned to screeches.
Jarad grinned.
"Not so easy when I'm the center of gravity, huh?"
The Shadow Spawn lunged, but this time—Jarad moved first. He reached out, grasping at the darkness, and collapsed it inward.
The void buckled.
The Shadow Spawn shrieked as the space it had created began to collapse, its own domain betraying it. Jarad forced his way back into reality, dragging the beast with him.
The battlefield returned in a violent explosion of light and force.
The Shadow Spawn staggered. Its form, once untouchable, was now unstable. But it wasn't done.
The beast roared, the sound vibrating through Jarad's bones.
Shadows coalesced into a dense, obsidian spear in its grasp. The weapon pulsed with malevolence. The Shadow Spawn reared back, then hurled it toward him with devastating speed.
The very air screamed in protest.
Jarad didn't dodge, instead, he extended his hand—and caught it.
The impact nearly shattered his bones, but he held firm. The moment the void-spear touched his palm, he twisted gravity around it, reversing its momentum.
The beast's own weapon turned against it.
The spear slammed into the Shadow Spawn's core, pinning it to the ground.
Jarad didn't hesitate.
He lifted both hands, summoning every ounce of his power. The very planet beneath them groaned as he called upon its force.
"Break!!."
Gravity collapsed inward.
The Shadow Spawn writhed, its form warping violently. It struggled. It screamed. But the pressure was too much.
Its body compressed, shrinking, folding, until—
With a final implosion, the beast was erased from existence.
Silence, that was all that came after the death of the beast
The battlefield was still. The darkness had vanished. The Shadow Spawn was gone.
And yet… something felt off.
As Jarad caught his breath, a lingering whisper brushed against his mind—fainter than before, but still there.
This isn't the end.
Jarad's jaw tightened.
No.
It never is.
For now, however, he had won. And survival was the first step toward something greater.