Chapter 5: The Whispering Woods Trial

The forest stretched endlessly before him—a battleground of ruined structures and remnants of ancient wars. Perhaps monsters once waged great conflicts here, leaving only decay and whispers of past horrors behind. The trees stood gnarled and twisted, their massive roots breaking through shattered stone like ancient guardians of forgotten secrets.

In the heart of this forsaken land, a small child lay sleeping on the damp ground. He was no more than five years old, his crimson hair glinting faintly in the moonlight. His peaceful slumber was abruptly disturbed as his eyelids fluttered open, revealing brilliant red irises filled with confusion. He bolted upright, his tiny fists clenching instinctively.

*(What am I doing here? Wasn't I sleeping in my room?)*

Fear and curiosity warred within him as he took in his surroundings. He had never seen such devastation before, and the vastness of it all left him breathless. Everything was unfamiliar, eerie. The ruins spoke of battles long past, but something told him the war here had never truly ended.

Despite the unease curling in his stomach, he gathered his courage and stepped forward, moving toward the tree line. The forest loomed ahead, its thick canopy casting deep shadows over the land. The air was damp, carrying the scent of decay, wood, and something older—something watching.

Unbeknownst to him, hidden among the shadows, a figure observed his every movement. Cloaked in darkness, the man muttered softly to himself, "I hope you can pass the test, my little sir."

As Reed ventured deeper, the silence of the forest grew oppressive. The stillness was unnatural, almost suffocating. His small boots crunched against dead leaves, each step echoing in the quiet. Then, faintly, he heard it—whispers.

They slithered between the trees, just beyond his comprehension. He tensed, gripping the wooden stick he had found earlier. It wasn't much, but it gave him a semblance of security. His father had always told him to never trust what lurks in the dark.

A gust of wind stirred the leaves, carrying with it a low growl. The hair on the back of Reed's neck stood on end. He stopped abruptly, the stick trembling in his grip.

The growl deepened, resonating through the ground. Then, from the thick fog ahead, two glowing green eyes pierced through the gloom. A massive shape materialized—a beast shrouded in shadow, its form shifting like liquid smoke. Clawed hands extended from its vaporous body, obsidian talons gleaming in the faint light.

Reed inhaled sharply. He could run. He could hide. But something inside him—his pride, his unyielding desire to fight—would not allow it.

With a fierce cry, he swung his stick at the creature. The attack passed through the smoky form, but the beast recoiled as if struck by something unseen. The whispers in the air grew urgent, swirling around him like a storm. A strange warmth pulsed in his chest, unfamiliar yet invigorating.

The stick clattered to the ground as Reed clenched his fists. Summoning every ounce of his training, he roared, "Greatest Arts of Destruction—Chaotic Fist!"

His small fist struck the beast's head with surprising force. A high-pitched screech filled the air as the towering creature shrank, its smoky mass dissipating into a tiny, thrashing insect on the ground.

Reed smirked. "I knew it—an illusory insect, one of the weakest creatures of the second level."

For the first time, Reed felt something beyond training, beyond instinct. It was power—pure, raw, and exhilarating.

He pressed forward, deeper into the forest. The whispers grew louder, guiding his steps. The ruins around him seemed to shift, like ghosts stirring in the night. Then, from above, a rustling sound made him freeze.

A monstrous figure dropped from the trees—a hulking, six-armed monkey-like beast. Its scarlet eyes glowed with malice as it bared razor-sharp fangs.

It lunged.

Reed barely managed to roll aside. He moved on instinct, his training taking over. The beast's claws slashed the air where he had stood moments before. He retaliated, striking with his glowing fists, but the creature was fast—faster than anything he had fought before.

The two exchanged blows in a deadly dance. Reed dodged and countered, but his small frame struggled against the sheer power of the beast. A swipe nearly caught his arm, slicing through his sleeve. His heart pounded in his chest.

*(Too fast… I need more power.)*

Then, an idea struck him. Summoning his family's bloodline technique, he called upon the energy coursing through him. His body trembled as crimson energy erupted from his back, forming spectral arms—four in total. It was the legendary technique, *Million Blood Hands*.

Though he had yet to master it, it was enough.

With a battle cry, Reed unleashed a flurry of strikes. His spectral arms blurred through the air, landing relentless blows on the beast. The force sent shockwaves through the trees, the whispers now screaming in exhilaration.

The monkey-like creature howled in agony, staggering backward under the relentless assault. Then, with one final strike, Reed sent it crashing against a tree. The beast slumped to the ground, motionless.

Panting, Reed watched as the blood hands faded, exhaustion creeping into his limbs. He had won.

But something inside him whispered that this was only the beginning. The forest held deeper secrets—stronger enemies. He was not yet at the top.

And he would not stop until he was.

From the shadows, the hidden figure smiled approvingly. "Congratulations, young master. You've survived the first trial. Now, let's see how far you can go..."