Chapter 4: "Trial of the Gods"

Darkness swallowed Orian's vision as the flames devoured him, his last memory etched in the form of Elias's cold, distant gaze. His body crumbled, and his thoughts spiraled into nothingness.

But something held him back from oblivion.

A pulse. A heartbeat forged from rage.

"Is this how you die? Betrayed. Weak."

A voice boomed through the void, shaking Orian's consciousness. He opened his eyes—or perhaps it was his soul that awakened—to find himself standing on an endless battlefield. The ground was cracked and scorched, littered with the bones of fallen warriors. Blackened skies loomed overhead, streaked with crimson lightning.

At the center of this desolate plane stood a towering figure—the Berserker God.

His body was colossal, wrapped in thick cords of muscle and scarred by countless battles. Twin axes rested at his sides, their blades dripping with the essence of slain enemies. His eyes glowed like molten fire as he gazed upon Orian.

Orian couldn't directly see his face and the guy in front of him was exuding such a vast and powerful pressure, he couldn't feel his legs and broke in a cold sweat by feeling such a thick killing intent.

Seeing Orian struggling to stand, the "Berserker God" retrieved both his pressure and killing intent and said something to Orian in plain voice.

"You burn with hatred, mortal," the Berserker God growled, his voice rumbling like thunder. "A heart filled with wrath is a weapon… but only if tempered by blood and battle."

Orian staggered to his feet, his body strangely intact yet scarred by the pain he had felt moments before. His breath came ragged, and his hands trembled with lingering anger.

"Where… am I?" he muttered.

"The Trial of the Wrathbound," the Berserker God replied. "Few are summoned. Fewer survive. This is my domain, where only the strongest endure. Here, you will either conquer your rage… or it will consume you."

Without warning, shadows flickered at the edges of the battlefield. Monsters—hulking, grotesque beasts formed from black mist—crawled from the cracks in the earth. Their eyes gleamed with hunger, their teeth gnashing as they circled Orian.

Survive.

That single word echoed in his mind. There were no weapons, no guidance. Only the primal instinct to kill.

The first beast lunged. Orian barely twisted aside, feeling the graze of razor-sharp claws across his chest. He retaliated with his fists, striking with desperation, but his blows felt weak, insignificant.

The monster roared, and another charged from behind.

He was outmatched.

"Is this all your hatred can muster?" the Berserker God's voice rang out in disappointment. "Your wrath flickers like a dying flame. Pathetic."

Orian gritted his teeth, fury swelling inside him. His vision blurred as memories of betrayal flooded his mind—Elias's hand stretched toward him, the searing flames, the faces of slavers who laughed as they shackled him.

"Why?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "Why did you betray me, Elias? I trusted you… I would have died for you… but you—"

The images twisted into a mocking reflection of his trust, the shadows of Elias's face sneering at his naivety. Hatred clawed at his chest, a flame that grew until it threatened to consume him.

The friend he would have once given his life for had torn it away instead.

"No," Orian growled, his nails digging into his palms. "I refuse to die like this."

A sudden crackle filled the air. His skin prickled with heat. Somewhere deep within his soul, two voices—ancient and overwhelming—stirred.

"Let him feel it."

A second monster leapt for his throat, but Orian's arm shot up instinctively. His eyes flashed with crimson and gold, and the beast's claws shattered against his skin.

The battlefield quaked.

From behind him, faint outlines of crimson horns and scales flickered into view, their forms overlapping with his own shadow. His breathing grew heavier, his muscles tensed, and something deep within him snapped.

With a guttural roar, Orian lunged forward. His hand pierced through the nearest monster's chest, ripping out its blackened core.

The Demon God's wrath.

His other arm swung wide, sharp tendrils of draconic energy spiraling around it, slicing the second monster in half.

The Dragon God's might.

The Berserker God's eyes narrowed, flames reflecting in their molten depths.

"Interesting…" the deity muttered. "Your rage… it is not your own."

Yet you were able to defeat these lowly monsters without using mana, aura, or divinity except the rage that drives you to fight even if you knew your death was certain. The Berserker God just was watching and trying to reach some conclusion.

The battlefield around Orian began to dissolve, the remaining beasts evaporating like mist. His body ached—blood dripped from countless wounds—but he stood tall, his wrath burning brighter than ever.

"You bear the souls of two forgotten gods," the Berserker God continued, stepping toward Orian.

"They whisper to you. Kill the traitor and destroy him whatever it takes. Mortal, the trapped souls in you were able to awaken them by feeling your rage and you somehow harness their power by combining their wrath.

Orian said, "What are you talking about? What is happening to me?" As the monster disappeared, Orian had a chance to catch his breath and suddenly realized that something had happened to his body. He felt stronger, and his body was lighter, allowing him to move around as he wished.

They awaken your strength… but can you wield it?" The "Berserker God" didn't give him the answer he wished for. While talking to Orian he came closer with powerful momentum but contrary to his expectations Orian held his ground.

Orian was not bothered by Berserker God's bloodlust; thanks to the mysterious power that somehow awakened in him as well as the rage that burning inside him didn't let him think straight.

Orian met the deity's gaze, defiance burning in his crimson eyes, and said something to him.

"I don't know what I'm doing here, but if I somehow survive, I will take my revenge by using this power," Orian said to Berserker God, who was one foot away from him.

"They used me. Burned me alive like I was nothing. I will not stop until I burn them all in return."

Orian was not in his right mind, the rage of two gods was corrupting his mind and increasing his hatred towards Elias so that his eyes became blood red. Look in his eyes were of blood thirsty murderer.

The Berserker God's lips curled into a grin. He raised one of his axes, slamming it into the ground. The battlefield was reshaped, shifting into a vast colosseum filled with towering monsters, greater than before.

"Then show me your rage and conviction, that you would successfully take your revenge and defeat those who came in your way," the berserker god said in a hoarse yet domineering voice; which shook the whole colosseum. 

"This is only the beginning, mortal. Prove yourself… or be devoured."

Orian exhaled sharply, stepping forward to meet the first foe.

He didn't know how long he had been fighting. Minutes? Hours? Days? His sense of time eroded. But with each kill, his strength grew, and with it, the voices of the Dragon God and Demon God grew louder.

The awakening had begun.