Lorian pressed forward, his breath steady despite the exhaustion creeping into his limbs. His battle with the shadow had left its mark—not just on his body, but on his mind. Yet, as he climbed higher, a new resolve burned within him. He had confronted his darkness and survived.
Now, he had to prove he was worthy of the summit.
The path ahead led to an ancient stone archway, half-buried in the snow. Strange symbols were carved into its surface, their meaning lost to time. As Lorian approached, he felt a shift in the air—something powerful lurked beyond.
Then, a deep voice rumbled through the mountains.
"You seek the peak, yet you have not been judged."
From the mist, a figure emerged.
It was massive, at least twice Lorian's height, clad in armor blackened by age and battle. A long, jagged spear rested in its grasp, and where its face should have been, there was only an empty void.
The Keeper of the Gate had appeared.
A Trial of Worth
The Keeper stepped forward, its presence suffocating.
"None may pass without proving their strength. The mountain does not grant power freely."
Lorian gritted his teeth. He had known there would be another test, but this one felt different. Unlike the shadow he had fought before, this opponent was not just a reflection of himself. It was a force beyond mortal comprehension—an entity bound to the mountain itself.
The Keeper lifted its spear.
"Will you face judgment?"
Lorian drew his sword, planting his feet firmly in the snow.
"I will."
The Keeper wasted no time. In an instant, it lunged forward, its massive spear striking down with enough force to crack the ground. Lorian barely dodged, rolling to the side as shards of ice flew into the air.
He countered with a swift slash, but his blade met only the thick, ancient armor of the Keeper. Sparks flew, but no damage was done.
This thing… it's stronger than anything I've faced.
The Keeper did not relent. It swung its spear in a wide arc, the sheer force sending Lorian skidding backward. He could feel the weight of each attack, as if the mountain itself was pressing down on him.
But he couldn't fall here.
Gritting his teeth, he adjusted his stance and waited for an opening.
The Keeper thrust forward again, and this time, Lorian didn't dodge—he stepped into the attack. At the last moment, he twisted his body, letting the spear graze past him as he brought his blade down in a powerful strike.
A sharp crack echoed through the air.
For the first time, the Keeper staggered. A small dent had formed in its armor.
Lorian's eyes lit up. It can be hurt.
The Turning Point
He pressed the attack, moving with renewed speed. Every strike was calculated, aimed at the weak points in the Keeper's armor. The towering guardian responded with relentless force, but Lorian was faster.
He dodged. He countered. He endured.
Blow after blow, his attacks chipped away at the armor. The Keeper's movements became slower, more deliberate.
And then, Lorian saw his chance.
As the Keeper raised its spear for one final, crushing blow, he ducked low and drove his sword straight into the exposed gap between its armor plates.
The impact sent a shockwave through his body.
For a moment, silence.
Then, the Keeper let out a deep, echoing sound—not a roar of rage, but of acknowledgment.
Its form began to dissolve, turning into mist that swirled around Lorian.
"You have proven your strength," the voice whispered one last time. "The mountain watches."
The mist faded, and the stone archway before him began to glow faintly. The symbols carved into it pulsed with an ancient energy.
Lorian stepped forward.