---
The first thing Eden D. Souldrake felt was the cold.
A biting, unnatural chill.
It gnawed at his skin, seeped into his bones, and coiled around his very soul. Yet the sensation barely registered. For Eden had awakened countless times before — in worlds scorched by war, in heavens drowned in light, and in the endless nothingness between.
But this time, it was different.
There were no roaring crowds. No echoes of judgment. No celestial voice announcing his failure. Only the pale gleam of fractured stars above and the deafening silence of a dead world.
He sat up.
The ground beneath him was polished obsidian, cracked and splintered. Its shattered fragments reflected not a sky, but a swirling abyss. A reflection without form. A void without meaning.
Eden's lips curled into a faint, bitter smile.
"Again, is it?"
There was no rage. No sorrow. Only the weight of weary acceptance. He knew the truth — a truth etched into his very existence.
The Trial had not ended.
Not yet.
---
But where was the voice?
Eden frowned. He should have heard it by now. The ever-looming authority of the Trial Overseer. The one that welcomed him back to the beginning. Its tone was always the same — hollow, mocking, laced with cruel amusement.
But this time, there was no voice. No declaration of his return. No demand for his submission. Only the steady pulse of an empty world.
For a fleeting moment, the possibility struck him.
Had he broken free?
Eden's chest tightened. A spark of irrational hope flickered within him — a hope that defied the endless torment he had come to accept. But he crushed it before it could grow.
Hope was dangerous.
Hope had shattered him more times than he cared to count. Every glimpse of freedom. Every hollow victory. Every illusion of escape. They were nothing but carefully woven threads of the Trial's design.
He would not be deceived again.
---
"Stand."
The word rang out. Not a voice of the Overseer. Not a divine decree.
It was his own.
A command.
His body obeyed, though sluggish and numb. The tattered remnants of his dark robes clung to him, stained with the crimson echoes of battles long past. His hair, silver and unruly, caught the faint, bitter light.
A prince. A conqueror. A monster.
The titles no longer mattered. He had worn them all. Destroyed kingdoms, shattered heavens, and watched the so-called 'righteous' kneel before him. He had tasted both victory and defeat, yet the satisfaction always proved fleeting.
Eden's fingers curled. He felt the faint hum of his power — fractured, restrained. The Trial always stripped him of his strength. It was part of the game. The Overseer relished it.
But something was different.
No chains. No resistance.
Eden flexed his hand, and a pale wisp of violet light coiled around his fingers. Weak, but unrestricted. The Trial had not bound him.
Why?
---
He took a step forward. The obsidian ground groaned beneath him, veins of eerie light pulsing from every fracture. The sky above churned — a swirling storm of dying stars. Yet there was no wind. No sound.
Only silence.
A jagged monolith stood in the distance. Towering, ancient, its surface etched with countless runes. Each symbol twisted and shifted as if trying to flee his gaze.
Eden knew it well.
The Monument of Descent.
It marked the beginning of every loop. A cursed monument that proclaimed his return. In past cycles, the Overseer's voice would echo from its depths, taunting him.
But now, it stood silent.
No voice. No trial.
Only the overwhelming weight of emptiness.
---
Eden's eyes narrowed. His instincts screamed. This wasn't right.
But that was precisely why he moved.
His steps were steady. Measured. Every fragment of his fractured soul anticipated the inevitable — the whisper of an unseen enemy, the sudden rush of killing intent.
Yet none came.
The stillness lingered.
A cruel thought took root in his mind.
What if this was the Overseer's final game?
A silent world. No guidance. No chains. Just him and the illusion of freedom. It would be the perfect torment — to watch him struggle in uncertainty, grasping at the hope that had always betrayed him.
Eden scoffed.
"Try harder."
If the Overseer believed that would break him, they had learned nothing. He would tear through this twisted world just as he always had. Even if it was futile.
Even if he already knew how it would end.
He would play the game.
One last time.
---
But what if this time was different?
That thought, unwanted and persistent, lingered at the edge of his mind.
And as Eden approached the Monument of Descent, a single line of runes ignited with violet light. Words twisted into existence — their meaning seared into his thoughts.
> "You are not bound. You are not watched. This is your story to end."
Eden froze. His breath caught. The cold returned, seeping into his bones once more.
And for the first time in countless cycles…
He felt something stir within him.
Fear.
---
The Silent Beginning
---
Eden stood before the Monument of Descent.
The runes burned with violet fire, shifting like living things. Their meaning had already embedded itself into his mind.
> "You are not bound. You are not watched. This is your story to end."
Those words gnawed at him.
The Trial had always followed a pattern—an endless cycle of suffering, victory, and return. Yet this time, the very foundation of that cycle was absent. No celestial decree. No chains of restriction. No mocking voice to dictate his fate.
Was this a deception? A test?
Or had something truly changed?
Eden exhaled slowly. It didn't matter.
The game had begun. And whether this was truth or illusion, he would play it.
---
He reached out, fingertips grazing the surface of the monument.
The obsidian stone was cold, unnaturally so. Cracks slithered across its surface like veins of frozen lightning. As his touch made contact, the violet runes flared.
A pulse of raw force erupted outward.
The ground trembled. The sky split apart in silence.
And then, the world shattered.
---
Darkness.
A formless abyss. Not void, not emptiness—but something deeper. A space outside of existence itself.
And in that moment, Eden knew.
He was falling.
The sensation was paradoxical. He had no weight, no form, yet he plummeted faster than thought. The abyss swallowed him whole, and reality twisted around him in spirals of fragmented light.
Memories flickered past.
A blade dripping with golden ichor.
A woman's laughter, rich with cruel amusement.
A throne room of shattered glass and dying stars.
A name whispered in reverence, in fear.
Souldrake.
Eden clenched his teeth.
No. Not again.
He willed himself to move—to fight against the fall. His body responded instantly, the raw instincts of countless battles roaring to life. His energy surged, a pulse of violet light crackling through the void.
And for the first time, the abyss resisted.
A force wrapped around him. Not chains, not shackles—something softer, something unseen. It slowed his descent, guiding rather than restraining.
A whisper, neither male nor female, brushed against his mind.
> "Wake."
---
Light.
Blinding, golden, searing through his vision. The void was gone. The monument was gone.
And Eden found himself standing in a city he did not recognize.
Towering structures of pale stone reached toward a sky of burning crimson. Shadows moved along the rooftops, figures shrouded in tattered cloaks. Their eyes gleamed like dying embers, their presence felt rather than seen.
And beneath him…
The ground was alive.
Veins of blue fire pulsed through the streets, twisting in patterns too intricate for mortal minds. Symbols—ancient, eldritch—etched into every surface, forming a network of power he had never encountered before.
Where was this?
This was not the starting world of his past trials. This was something else. Something… unfamiliar.
For the first time in eons, Eden D. Souldrake stood in an unknown story.
And that thought sent a thrill through his veins.
---
"Traveler."
The voice was close. Too close.
Eden turned.
A figure loomed at the edge of the firelit street—a man wrapped in layers of woven shadows. His presence was unnatural, shifting like mist yet undeniably solid. Beneath the hood, eyes of molten silver stared back at him.
A Watcher.
Not a Trial Overseer. Not a god of this realm.
But something… adjacent.
A guide? A guardian? Or something far worse?
Eden's hand twitched toward his side, instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. The Watcher tilted its head.
"You should not be here."**
The words were neither hostile nor welcoming. A statement, as cold and immutable as fate itself.
Eden's lips curled into a smirk.
"Neither should you."
The Watcher did not react.
Instead, it lifted a hand.
And the city… moved.
---
Buildings twisted, shifting as if alive. Streets unraveled, coiling like the tendrils of a great beast. The symbols beneath Eden's feet flared with searing light.
This was not an attack.
It was a response.
The city itself recognized him as an invader.
A low hum filled the air—a vibration that sank into his bones. Eden's mind raced. This world was unlike any he had encountered before. It did not obey the laws of the Trial, nor the logic of the realms he had torn through in past cycles.
Then what was it?
An independent dream? A fragment of a forgotten reality?
Or…
A story yet to be told?
---
The Watcher stepped forward.
"Leave, Traveler. This is your only warning."
Eden chuckled.
"And if I refuse?"
For the first time, the Watcher hesitated.
Not out of fear.
But uncertainty.
As if Eden himself was an anomaly. A piece of a puzzle that did not belong.
A threat to the very structure of this reality.
Eden's smirk widened.
"I think I'll stay."
---
The city groaned.
The Watcher raised its hand once more. Symbols of silver fire flared around it.
And the first battle of this unknown world…
Began.
---
---
The Watcher's Warning
---
The air twisted.
The city, ancient and slumbering, awoke.
Eden didn't move. Not yet. The Watcher stood across from him, cloaked in layers of shifting shadow, its silver eyes burning with a dull, ethereal glow. The weight of its presence pulled against the space itself — a force both deliberate and unnatural.
But it was the city's response that fascinated him most.
The veins of blue fire beneath his feet pulsed faster, their glow reflecting the rhythms of a vast, sleeping will. Buildings groaned and twisted, their stone-like sinew bending in impossible ways. An ever-changing labyrinth began to form.
A sentient world.
Eden's smirk deepened. "Not bad."
---
> "Leave, Traveler."
The Watcher's voice resonated once more, but the warning fell hollow. Eden could feel it. This wasn't the presence of a being with absolute authority. It was more like a custodian—an enforcer of rules it didn't fully understand.
And what were rules to him?
Nothing more than a story waiting to be rewritten.
"You keep saying that. But I'm not much of a listener."
Eden tilted his head, violet strands of his hair catching the light of the blazing city veins. His words held no anger, only amusement. The Watcher remained unmoved.
"Defiance serves no purpose. You stand upon the Threshold. Beyond it, you will find only ruin."
Threshold?
That was new. He liked it.
"Ruin, you say?" Eden chuckled. "Sounds fun. Maybe I'll see how far I can fall this time."
A flicker of something — perhaps irritation — stirred within the Watcher's gaze. But no reply came.
---
The city moved first.
A pillar of stone erupted from the ground, massive and jagged, glowing with the same blue flame that lined the streets. Its ascent was eerily silent. No shattering stone. No trembling earth. It was as if reality simply decided that it belonged there.
Eden moved.
In an instant, he was gone from where he stood, his figure blurred into a streak of violet light. The pillar struck the air he had abandoned, releasing a wave of heat and dust. But Eden was already above it.
His feet touched the air.
Sky Steps. A low-tier movement technique. In any other story, it would be worthless. But to him?
It was perfect.
Eden twisted mid-air, the surge of motion sending ripples through the space around him. He didn't waste energy on grandeur — there was no need. Efficiency was his style.
He shot downward.
But the city was not idle.
---
More pillars. A dozen this time. They burst from the earth like jagged fangs, curving inwards to trap him. The living stone was fast. Far too fast for a conventional evasion.
But Eden wasn't conventional.
"Scatter."
A single word, whispered.
And then there were many.
Clones. Each one a flawless reflection of himself. They radiated his presence, wielded his aura, and danced through the collapsing stone maze with eerie coordination.
The pillars struck. Illusions shattered.
But Eden? He was nowhere within their grasp.
High above, the real Eden hovered, his arms crossed as he watched the chaos below. Mocking. Daring. Waiting.
"This is all?"
The Watcher finally moved.
---
A dark flash.
Eden's gaze sharpened. In that single heartbeat, the Watcher had crossed the distance — an afterimage lingering in its wake. It was fast. Not merely in movement, but in intent. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion.
A blackened spear, wreathed in silver light, struck forward.
"Break."
The command trembled through the air. Eden barely tilted his head as the spear pierced where he had stood. The force shattered the space, ripples distorting the cityscape.
But it was all part of the game.
Eden's smirk didn't waver. His hand flicked.
And the world bent.
---
Reality Like Illusion.
An ability that rewrote perception itself.
The Watcher faltered. Its spear struck nothingness. The image of Eden vanished, as though it had never been there at all. Only laughter remained — low, echoing, layered with mocking amusement.
"You're quick. I'll give you that."
The Watcher twisted, but it was too late. Eden reappeared behind it. Not a teleportation. Not even speed.
He had simply been there all along.
"But quick won't save you."
A violet pulse surged from Eden's fingertips, carving a crescent through the air. It was no grand technique. In fact, it was among the most basic of energy manipulations. A rankless blade of force.
But Eden didn't need grandeur.
He needed simplicity.
---
The Watcher barely managed to raise its spear. The force collided, sending a thunderous wave outward. Yet even as the Watcher endured, Eden had already moved again.
He wasn't fighting for victory.
He was fighting to see.
To understand.
What was this city? Why did it stir as though alive? Why did the Watcher fear his presence?
The answers would come. They always did.
But for now…
Eden grinned.
"Shall we continue?"
---
The City's Will
---
The city pulsed.
Veins of cerulean flame wove through the ancient streets, twisting and surging like a heartbeat. The sky above remained dark, yet beneath its shadowed embrace, the labyrinth thrived. Pillars groaned. Walls shifted. Each step Eden took was met with resistance — not from the Watcher alone, but from the city itself.
Yet Eden?
He smiled.
"Ah, you're waking up, aren't you?" His words echoed, amusement laced through every syllable. "Come on, then. Show me how much of a story you can tell."
The ground beneath him trembled.
---
A city that thinks.
The realization burned bright in Eden's mind. This place, this ancient ruin, wasn't merely stone and flame. It was conscious. He could feel its attention—an ethereal weight pressing against his thoughts. It didn't speak with words. It didn't need to.
Its intent was clear.
"You don't want me here."
He could almost laugh. How many worlds had rejected him? How many so-called "guardians" had tried to stand in his way? It was the same pattern, written with slight variations.
But this city… It was more stubborn than most.
---
The Watcher moved.
A blur of shadows. The spear in its grasp howled, its edge sharpened by ancient power. It struck with terrifying precision — a strike meant not to simply harm, but to erase.
Eden's violet eyes gleamed.
"Too slow."
He twisted, the spear missing him by a hair's breadth. But the air itself was unwilling to remain idle. Blackened fissures rippled outward from the weapon's path. The fabric of space tore.
"Destructive resonance."
A high-ranking concept. One that would reduce most cultivators to dust. But Eden? He was already gone. A single step, and he reappeared several meters away, his figure flickering like an afterimage.
The Watcher said nothing. It never did.
But the spear moved again.
---
A barrage.
The weapon split into countless fragments, each one a sliver of consuming light. They curved through the air, bound by a will that surpassed mortal understanding.
Eden's response?
He laughed.
There was no fear. Only the thrill.
"Clones."
A whisper, barely audible.
And then they appeared — dozens of him. Each reflection carried his presence, his grin, his eyes that gleamed with mocking delight. They scattered, weaving through the storm of fragments. Some shattered instantly. Others twisted and blurred, illusions woven to break the spear's relentless pursuit.
But the true Eden?
He had already ascended.
---
Sky Steps.
The air yielded to him. He soared higher, the ancient city sprawling below. From above, its beauty became clearer — an endless maze of ever-shifting paths. Towering spires twisted like bone. The cerulean flames pulsed, illuminating carvings that whispered forgotten stories.
A story forgotten.
That was why this city fought so fiercely. Its existence had been reduced to myth, its purpose lost. Yet something still lingered. A fragment of memory. A desire to remain.
Eden understood.
"You're not just stone and fire." His voice was soft. "You're a story that refuses to end."
For a moment, the flames dimmed. As if the city itself acknowledged his words.
But the Watcher did not.
---
The spear returned.
It no longer split. No longer sought to overwhelm. Instead, it became a single, radiant line — one that cut through the sky itself.
A judgment. Absolute.
"Fine."
Eden's grin faded. His hands moved, violet strands of energy coiling around his fingers. He didn't summon a divine weapon. He didn't call upon forbidden techniques.
Instead, he answered with simplicity.
"Force Rebound."
A low-tier skill. Laughably so. The kind taught to children learning the basics of energy manipulation. It did nothing but redirect minor force.
Yet when Eden used it—
The spear trembled.
It struck his open palm. The moment of contact ignited a surge of destructive resonance. Space twisted. The force of the Watcher's attack sought to consume him.
But then —
It reversed.
The spear shattered. Fragments of its own destructive energy rebounded, scattering like dying stars. The sky quivered beneath the aftermath.
And Eden remained. Unscathed.
---
"You're not the only one who plays by the rules."
His words were directed not only at the Watcher but at the city itself. The ever-present gaze of its will lingered, as if questioning.
Eden raised his hand. A pulse of violet energy followed. Not an attack. A signal.
"Now, let's see how much fun you can give me."
The city answered.
The ground convulsed. Ancient towers twisted, forming colossal limbs. Monuments split open, revealing luminous cores of forgotten power. The labyrinth was no longer confined to stone and fire.
It had become a beast.
A true story.
And Eden? He smiled wider.
"Perfect."
---
The City's Heartbeat
---
The colossal limbs of the city twisted, reshaping its ancient form. Towers of fractured stone unraveled like sinew, pulling together to form something monstrous. The labyrinth groaned in protest. Walls twisted in defiance. Yet the city's will held firm.
It no longer moved like a forgotten ruin. It moved like a beast.
And it wanted Eden gone.
"You're making this personal now?" Eden's grin sharpened. "Good."
A rush of violet energy swirled around him. He wasn't one to shy away from a fight. The stronger the opponent, the more satisfying the victory. And now?
This city had just become worthy.
---
The city struck first.
An enormous pillar, carved with ancient glyphs, surged from the ground. Blue flames coursed through its runes, igniting its massive form. It descended from the heavens — a judgment of crushing might.
But Eden didn't move.
Instead, his eyes gleamed.
"Clone Shift."
The instant before impact, his figure flickered. A single clone appeared in his place, maintaining his smug grin even as the pillar crashed down, obliterating it in an eruption of stone and dust.
Eden reappeared at the city's edge, unharmed. He savored the faint echoes of destruction.
"Not bad." He tilted his head. "But predictable."
---
The city answered.
The ground beneath him convulsed. Cracks spiderwebbed outward, glowing with a deep azure light. From within, tendrils of crystallized flame emerged, writhing like serpents. Each tendril pulsed with destructive energy.
"Multi-Cast Convergence."
A low-level spell. Normally harmless. But when dozens of flame tendrils used it in unison—
The sky burned.
The blue firestorm twisted, converging into a torrent of heat that spiraled down. Every path of escape was sealed. But Eden only smiled.
"Let's see how much of a story you can tell me."
---
He welcomed the flames.
Instead of fleeing, Eden raised his hand. A simple gesture. The crimson light of his aura ignited, and the air twisted around him.
"Kinetic Reflection."
Another low-tier technique. Laughably underwhelming on paper. Yet, for Eden, it was perfect.
The flames struck.
And then, they reversed.
The torrent of destruction bent unnaturally, the spiraling firestorm rebounding into the sky with a violent roar. The energy twisted upon itself, the city's own power returning like a serpent biting its tail.
The resulting explosion shattered the air.
---
Yet the city did not relent.
It learned. The labyrinth twisted once more. Walls moved in harmony, forming a massive circular arena. Its ancient carvings pulsed, and a low hum reverberated through the air.
Then, from the shadows of the stone, it emerged.
A guardian.
"Ah."
Eden's grin returned. The Watcher had been a mere prelude. But this? This was something else. A behemoth of shifting stone and crystalline flame, its humanoid form towering above. A jagged crown of obsidian crowned its head. Eyes of molten blue glared with unwavering intent.
"You're the city's heart, aren't you?"
It didn't answer. It only raised its colossal hand.
---
The first strike came without warning.
A seismic fist, imbued with pure destruction, descended from the heavens. The weight of its presence alone shattered the remaining walls. The air trembled.
Eden didn't dodge.
Instead—
"Force Rebound."
The moment the colossal fist neared him, the technique activated. Violet energy surged through his palm as he met the strike head-on.
The guardian's force twisted. Its own momentum shattered against the reversed energy. A deafening shockwave erupted, sending fragments of stone and flame scattering through the air.
But even as the guardian stumbled, Eden's grin never faltered.
"You can hit harder than that."
---
And so it did.
The battle raged. Fists of stone collided with Eden's reality-warping illusions. Energy clashed. The city roared in defiance, each fragment of its will converging into the guardian's next strike.
But Eden moved like a phantom. His clones danced through the wreckage, their laughter echoing. Low-tier techniques struck with pinpoint accuracy, unraveling high-level spells. His movements were calculated, ruthless, and endlessly mocking.
"Stronger."
Another blow rebounded.
"Faster."
The guardian's strikes twisted into futility.
"Angrier."
But with every failure, Eden's delight only grew.
This was no longer just a battle.
It was a story. And Eden was the author.
---
Then came the moment.
The guardian faltered. Cracks lined its obsidian form. Its flames dimmed. The city's will, though mighty, could no longer sustain its endless onslaught.
Eden lowered his hand. The violet gleam in his eyes softened.
"It's time to end this chapter."
A simple gesture. One step forward. Reality twisted.
"Echo Rift."
A clone shattered. But not in failure. In purpose. Its fragmented essence rewrote the air itself, collapsing the distance between Eden and the guardian. The moment of opportunity had been crafted with precision.
Eden's fingers brushed against the guardian's chest.
"You fought well. But even stories must yield."
The energy ruptured. The guardian's form crumbled, its final roar fading into the abyss. The city's will faltered.
And then—
Silence.
---
Eden stood victorious.
The ruined labyrinth remained, now motionless. The weight of the city's gaze lingered, but the malice was gone.
"You'll remember this." His voice was calm. "And so will I."
The city did not respond. But deep within its shattered ruins, a faint pulse remained.
A fragment of memory. A story unfinished.
And Eden? He smiled.
"Onto the next one."
---
The Silent Witness
---
The air was still.
Where once the city roared with ancient malice, now only silence remained. The fractured remnants of the guardian lay crumbling in the dust, their ember-like glow fading into the void. And yet, the city did not collapse.
It endured.
Even in defeat, the twisted labyrinth watched him. Its presence lingered — not with hatred, but with a strange, almost reverent curiosity.
"Admiring your own destruction, are you?" Eden scoffed, brushing debris from his shoulder. "I can't blame you. That was one hell of a show."
But the city offered no reply. It simply… waited.
---
Eden hated that.
It wasn't arrogance that stirred him. Nor some childish need for validation. No — this was something more primal. A desire born from the weight of countless victories.
He wanted acknowledgment.
"Come on." His voice sharpened. "Tell me I was right. Tell me you thought I'd lose."
The city didn't respond.
Instead, a faint hum resonated through the ruins. The fractured ground pulsed, threads of azure light weaving through the stone. Symbols, ancient and forgotten, ignited one by one.
A story was unfolding.
---
Eden's grin returned.
"Oh? You're not done yet?"
But this time, there was no malice. No twisted tendrils of wrath. Only the soft tremor of something… else.
Memories.
The fragmented echoes of a thousand battles — all woven into the city's bones. Warriors who had come before him. Each defiant. Each consumed. The city had devoured their pride, turning it into the foundation of its own existence.
Yet Eden had been different.
He had not come to kneel.
He had come to write his own chapter.
---
The hum intensified.
The azure symbols twisted, forming a massive circular glyph across the ruins. Threads of silver light emerged, swirling in delicate patterns. From within the glowing construct, a figure began to rise.
Not a guardian. Not a beast.
But a memory.
She was tall, draped in flowing silver robes that shimmered like stardust. Her face, obscured by an intricate veil, radiated an air of ancient authority. Wisps of light danced around her, trailing like strands of forgotten dreams.
"The City's Witness," Eden murmured. "A sentient remnant. A judge."
She did not speak. But the weight of her gaze bore into him, as though peeling away every layer of his existence.
---
And Eden welcomed it.
The remnants of pride flickered in his violet eyes. He stood tall, arms crossed, daring her to speak the judgment he already knew.
But instead of condemnation, the Witness simply raised her hand.
A single silver thread unraveled from her fingertips, glowing with an ethereal warmth. It hovered in the air, quivering like a question unspoken.
"A choice?"
Eden's grin softened. Of course.
Every story demanded a choice.
---
The thread pulsed.
A memory surged through it — a vision of the city's endless cycles. Every fallen challenger. Every desperate soul consumed by arrogance. The Witness had seen them all. And now, she waited for him.
To follow.
To lead.
Or to shatter the cycle entirely.
Eden stepped forward. The silver light illuminated his form, casting long shadows across the ruined landscape. For a moment, the weight of infinite choices bore down upon him.
But only for a moment.
"You already know my answer."
He reached out. The thread coiled around his fingers, its warmth sinking into his skin.
And then —
The city moved.
---
Not with malice. Not with fury.
But with purpose.
The shattered walls twisted once more, folding into impossible shapes. Ancient glyphs burned brighter. The air itself warped, the labyrinth reshaping itself into something entirely new.
A doorway.
Framed in silver light, the massive arch pulsed with the weight of countless destinies. Beyond it lay the unknown. The next chapter.
And Eden? He laughed.
"Finally."
---
The city was no longer his adversary.
It had become his witness.
He stepped forward without hesitation, the violet gleam in his eyes alight with satisfaction. Whatever lay beyond the doorway — trials, monsters, gods — it didn't matter.
Because Eden Souldrake didn't fear the unknown.
He craved it.
---
The Path Beyond
---
The silver arch pulsed.
It wasn't just a door. No, it was a story — a convergence of fates woven into the very fabric of its existence. Every glimmer in the arch's frame whispered forgotten names. Every pulse echoed the cries of those who failed.
But Eden Souldrake wasn't one of them.
"Regret? Fear? Uncertainty?" He scoffed. "I'm done with those."
He traced a finger along the silver light. For a moment, warmth pulsed through his skin, like a heartbeat. The arch wasn't trying to stop him. It was welcoming him.
And that realization?
It was intoxicating.
---
The city had recognized him.
Not as a challenger. Not as a fool.
But as a story worth witnessing.
Eden's violet eyes gleamed. His grin stretched with an almost boyish satisfaction. After all, what was the point of breaking down arrogant fools if no one remained to see it?
"A witness, huh?" His voice softened. "Then watch closely. This is just the beginning."
---
The path pulled him in.
Stepping through the arch was like breaching the surface of a dream. One moment, the ruined city still lingered — its twisted remains frozen in solemn reverence. The next, it was gone.
Replaced.
Eden stood in a void. Not the endless dark of nothingness, but a boundless expanse of shattered reflections. Fragmented memories drifted past him — scenes of forgotten victories, desperate battles, and bitter failures.
A thousand lives. A thousand regrets.
And then, a voice.
---
"Why?"
It wasn't a question from the city. Nor from the arch.
It came from within.
"Why do you continue?"
Eden paused.
The voice had no shape. No presence. It was as if the echoes of his own mind had turned against him. And perhaps, they had.
But that only made him grin.
"Why? Because I can."
He stepped forward.
---
The shards twisted around him. Faces formed in the reflections — twisted masks of regret and defiance. Warriors, kings, gods. Each shattered by their own arrogance.
They begged. They cursed. Some even laughed.
But Eden didn't stop.
Every step sent ripples through the void, distorting the fractured memories. The faces screamed, demanding to be acknowledged.
"I'm not here for you," Eden growled. "Your stories ended. Mine hasn't."
---
Then, the void shifted.
A single reflection remained. Unlike the others, it was clear — painfully clear. And within it stood himself.
Not the conqueror. Not the manipulator.
But the boy.
Young. Untouched by the weight of countless battles. His violet eyes held no malice. Only questions.
"Is this really what you wanted?" the reflection asked. "Or did you simply forget why you started?"
Eden's chest tightened.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen this reflection. Nor would it be the last. Every cycle, every loop, it returned. The echoes of the choices he once made.
But this time?
He didn't hesitate.
---
"You're not me."
Eden's voice was sharp.
"You're the past. A remnant. A reflection of who I was before I understood."
The boy's gaze faltered.
"Understood what?"
Eden stepped closer, the void trembling beneath his feet. The reflection no longer mattered. The past no longer mattered.
"That stories only end when you stop writing."
And with that, the reflection shattered.
---
The path was clear.
No more twisted faces. No more regrets. Only the arch's fading silver light — a mark of the city's acknowledgment.
But beyond it?
That was something Eden would carve for himself.
"Next chapter, then."
He laughed softly, his grin returning.
After all, the city had witnessed him.
Now it was time for the world to do the same.
---
I'll proceed with writing Chapter 1, Part 8 of Eternal Dream: The Infinite Trial, maintaining immersion, filling plot holes, and enhancing the reading experience for maximum engagement.
---
Eternal Dream: The Infinite Trial
Chapter 1: A Whisper From the End
Part 8 of 9 — The Weight of Choice
---
The world didn't greet him.
It rejected him.
The moment Eden stepped through the arch, the silver glow twisted into a blinding pulse. Air cracked and shifted, thickening like a suffocating fog. It wasn't the endless void from before.
This place was alive.
---
Eden's boots struck solid ground. Crumbling black stone lined the cracked pathway, fragments of ancient pillars jutting out like jagged teeth. The sky above pulsed in violent hues — a clash of crimson and violet, like a dying sun refusing to surrender.
But the most unsettling part?
The whispers.
They clawed at him, tangled voices dripping with malice and amusement. "Foolish." "Unworthy." "Another failure."
Eden smirked.
"You're all dead. And I'm still standing."
He rolled his shoulders, his violet eyes gleaming. The whispers flinched. Of course, they would.
The dead could scream all they wanted. But they had no power over him.
---
A distant hum pulled at his thoughts.
Eden followed.
The ruined landscape twisted as he walked. Shadows shifted unnaturally, like memories refusing to die. Stone figures lined the path — twisted statues of forgotten monarchs and self-proclaimed gods. Each one bore a crown, their carved expressions contorted in anguish.
It was a monument of arrogance.
Eden's grin widened.
"Fools, the lot of you."
His fingers brushed against one of the statues, feeling the cold weight of its lifeless stone. The pride that once defined these so-called rulers had long since crumbled.
But he was different.
He didn't cling to a throne. He didn't seek empty reverence.
His only crown was the satisfaction of witnessing the mighty crumble beneath their own arrogance.
And the game was just beginning.
---
The path twisted.
Ahead, a colossal gate loomed — scorched and shattered, with fragments of gold still clinging to its broken frame. Beyond it, a throne awaited.
But it wasn't empty.
A figure sat upon it.
No, not a ruler. Not a god.
A reflection.
Eden's grin froze.
"You again."
The figure didn't answer. Its violet eyes mirrored his own. But unlike before, there was no fear. Only amusement.
"Is this the part where you ask me why again?" Eden sneered.
The reflection tilted its head. "No. You already answered that."
The air twisted. The throne cracked beneath the weight of the reflection's presence.
"But have you asked yourself — was it ever really your choice?"
Eden's smirk faltered.
---
The whispers returned.
Louder. Harsher.
"Was it truly satisfaction you sought? Or did the loop force your hand?"
The reflection leaned forward, its grin widening. "Would you still destroy the arrogant if no one was watching?"
The question twisted in Eden's mind. For a fleeting moment, uncertainty gnawed at him. The memories of countless cycles flickered — victories, defeats, and the same bittersweet satisfaction that never seemed to last.
But then, he laughed.
"Does it matter?"
The reflection stiffened.
"I enjoyed every moment. Whether it was fate or choice, I made it mine."
The throne crumbled. The reflection cracked.
And the whispers?
They screamed.
---
The world shifted.
The throne room shattered like glass, pieces of fractured reality scattering into the void. Only Eden remained — standing tall, his violet eyes burning with defiance.
"Loop or not, I'll tear it apart. Just to see how the pieces fall."
His voice echoed, carrying the weight of his resolve.
And for the first time, the whispers fell silent.
---
The Beginning that Never Ends
---
Eden stood at the edge of existence.
The shattered remains of the throne room floated behind him, its fragments drifting through the dark void like forgotten memories. Every step forward pulled him further into the unknown. There was no ground beneath his feet. No sky above. Only the endless whisper of silence.
Yet, within that emptiness, a path formed.
A pale silver light traced the edges of a staircase, spiraling upward. It twisted in impossible angles, defying logic — a path that led nowhere, yet promised everything.
"Again, then."
His words held neither anger nor fear. Only certainty.
Eden climbed.
---
Each step carried the weight of countless cycles. Memories flickered — battles fought, enemies broken, stories unraveled. He had crushed kingdoms beneath his heel, shattered gods with a whisper, and torn through the fabric of fate itself.
But the satisfaction never lasted.
Each time he reached the end, the world pulled him back.
A loop with no exit.
---
The staircase twisted once more. Shadows clung to the edges, whispering forgotten truths. Eden ignored them. He had heard their lies before.
But then, a voice broke through.
Not the echoes of the past.
A voice now.
"Why do you continue?"
Eden's steps paused. He didn't turn.
"Because I can."
The voice didn't argue. It didn't plead. It simply lingered.
"And when you reach the end once more?"
Eden smiled.
"Then I'll start again."
---
The final step appeared.
A gateway awaited — vast and infinite, carved from silver light. Beyond it, Eden could sense the threads of reality pulling apart. A thousand possibilities unraveled, all demanding his choice.
He had stood here before.
He would stand here again.
But this time, something shifted.
A single memory slipped through the cracks — a moment of laughter, of bitter satisfaction. The face of a fallen emperor, his crown shattered, his pride crushed beneath Eden's heel.
And yet, no hatred remained. Only the lingering echo of triumph.
Was it arrogance that drove him? Or the sheer joy of the game?
It didn't matter.
Eden reached out.
The gateway pulsed.
"Let's see what story you have for me this time."
And with that, the loop began anew.
---