Choice

Wu Chen's breath hitched. Trinity Palace? Andromeda? The names meant nothing to him—yet they coiled around his mind like a prophecy.

"What… what is Trinity Palace?" he managed, his throat dry.

"It is a place where countless beings yearn to be," the voice said.

"A supreme sanctuary that grants immense power, where one can ascend to greatness beyond imagination."

"However"

A pause, heavy as a executioner's axe.

"the consequences of failure are grave. Here, death is the gentlest of penalty."

Wu Chen stood frozen, his mind reeling. The words echoed in his skull, too immense, too impossible to grasp.

Becoming a master of great power?

The very idea was laughable. He was nothing—an orphan who scavenged for scraps, a wretch kicked to the gutter by the world. No one had ever looked at him with anything but scorn. And yet, here he was, standing before an unseen presence offering him everything he had never dared to dream of.

How?

How had he even arrived in this place? His memories were a haze, his last moments a blur of desperation. He had been running—running for his life.

Then it struck him.

The artifact.

The strange, shimmering gold ring he had won in that back-alley gamble. The very thing those men had been willing to kill for.

Was this its doing?

Had it dragged him into some unfathomable realm?

His thoughts spun wildly, but before he could piece together another fragment of sense—

The voice spoke again.

"But before you may claim this destiny, you must pass a test."

The voice resonated like thunder, its weight pressing down on Wu Chen's chest. His pulse quickened.

A test

simple words, yet they carried the gravity of life and death.

A spark of hope flared inside him, fragile but fierce. Could this be real? But just as quickly, dread coiled around his throat. What horrors might such a trial demand?

"What kind of test?" he asked, forcing steadiness into his voice.

Silence stretched. Then, the reply came—cold, final.

"You have two choices: ACCEPT… or DECLINE."

No explanation. No mercy.

Wu Chen's fingers clenched. The voice offered no comfort, no guidance—only the brutal simplicity of a crossroads.

His mind churned.

To walk away meant returning to the dirt, to the hunger to the scorn, and That is if those bastards who chased him in the first place are Merciful to let him live, and he doubts that.

But to accept? That path was shrouded in shadow. Would it demand his blood? His soul? Or maybe something greater?.

And if he Declines—would he ever escape this place? Or would he vanish, forgotten, like so many before him?

"But"

Wu Chen's voice cut through the silence, sharp with desperation. "What happens if I decline?".

"If you decline," the voice intoned, its words vibrating through Wu Chen's very bones, "you will forget this place. This moment. All of it."

The finality of it struck like a hammer.

Forget?.

No memory of this offer. No lingering doubt. Just—ignorance. A return to the same wretched existence, blind to the possibility that had dangled before him.

Was that truly the safer choice?

The thought coiled around his heart like a serpent. To walk away meant condemning himself to the same cycle of misery—forever wondering, in some buried corner of his mind, if he had let salvation slip through his fingers.

He had endured too much already. The hunger, The disdain. The hollow ache of a life with no meaning beyond survival.

Death had never frightened him. Not truly. In his darkest hours, it had almost been a comfort—a whisper of escape.

And yet.

He had always fought.

Clawed through the dirt. Fled through shadowed tunnels, lungs burning, heart pounding, refusing to surrender.

His life was all he had.

But was mere survival enough?

No.

Survival wasn't enough.

He didn't just want to endure—he want to rise. To be Somebody, To carve his name into the world.

Through every beating, every night spent starving, some ember inside him had refused to die—the mad, unshakable belief that he was meant for more.

That the world's cruelty was merely the whetstone upon which his destiny would be forged.

But now?

This realm defied reason. The voice's power choked the air like thunder given tongue. If he walked away, would fate ever offer him such a chance again?

And if he stayed—would he live long enough to claim it?

The risk was a blade at his throat. One misstep, and his dreams would bleed out into the void.

Yet turning away? That was a different kind of death. The death of possibility. The slow rot of a life spent wondering what if.

Silence stretched.

The darkness pulsed like a living thing.

Then—

"I Accept."

The word left his lips like a vow.

And the world shattered.

"YOUR TRIAL BEGINS!"