I can't breathe.
My throat burns, my muscles scream. Every movement is a negotiation between pain and will.
All around me, the ground is littered with bodies… but none stay down.
They rise. Again. Again.
Simulacra of soldiers. Twisted echoes of those I once led.
Some wear my face. Others, the faces of my betrayers.
All strike at me with the fury of an entire world.
CLANG!
I parry a blade from the left, step back, pivot, slash in a diagonal arc.
"Tch… how many times now…? Twenty? Fifty? I've lost count."
I've been here for… how many days? No—
This place has no days. No nights.
Only trials.
The Sepulcher of Judgment.
An endless arena, a theater of blood where the only way out is to survive long enough to become… something else.
Stronger. Colder. Lonelier.
My sword is an extension of myself. But it's growing heavy. My arm bleeds, my vision blurs.
And still, I fight.
Not to escape.
But to endure.
To endure until they return what was stolen from me.
"Edran… Calwyn… Irisa..."
I whisper their names like a dark prayer,
a litany that keeps me standing.
Are they still alive?
Feasting in the palace, celebrating their betrayal?
Or… do they feel haunted by my memory?
System: Mental tolerance — 73%.
Physical fatigue — critical.
Emotional resistance — stable.
Reward granted after the next wave.
"Great… another wave.
As if the last fifty weren't enough."
The ground cracks. The air turns to ash.
And then they appear.
Not soldiers this time.
Abominations.
Twisted fusions of beast and man, their shrieks rattle inside my skull.
Their blades are made of bone.
And their eyes…
are mine.
"You want justice?"
One of the beasts speaks in Irisa's voice.
"You want peace?"
Another chuckles with Edran's.
"You wanted to be a hero… but you were just a tool."
I scream.
My blade cuts through the air—through flesh.
An arm falls. A head rolls. A leg shatters beneath my weight.
But I bleed.
I slip.
I fall to my knees.
Not yet.
Not now
I grit my teeth.
I rise.
My heart pounds like a war drum.
When will I leave this place?
It's the question that gnaws at me.
The only one I never say aloud.
If I speak, I doubt.
If I doubt, I falter.
But in my mind, it echoes.
What if they're no longer alive?
What if this world has forgotten me?
What if… this vengeance is just an illusion,
a false purpose planted in me by the system?
No.
No.
I remember their faces.
Their betrayal.
Their silence.
And as long as those memories burn within me,
I fight on.
My blade shatters in the chest of a beast.
I follow through with my fist.
I bite. I spit. I slash.
My hands have become weapons.
My body, a reactor of hate and survival.
A beast pierces my side.
I grab it.
I drive my fingers into its eye sockets.
It screams.
I scream with it.
Then… silence.
Blood drips slowly onto the obsidian floor.
I'm standing.
Alone.
Again.
System: Wave complete.
Reward: Memory Fragment recovered.
A shard of light falls from the black sky.
I reach out.
The image is blurry.
But I see Calwyn, seated on a throne, a cup of wine in his hand.
Songs echo around him.
He laughs.
And on his chest…
the insignia of the Silver Blades.
My insignia.
My throat tightens.
He lives.
He thrives.
Perfect.
I fall to my knees.
Not from exhaustion.
But from relief.
I haven't lost my mind.
I will know when it's time to leave.
And on that day…
I will return not as a man—
but as the Blade of Eternity.