Chapter 4: The Trial Begins

The moment Eden stepped through the swirling portal, the sensation of motion ceased entirely. No wind, no gravity—just the abrupt realization that he was already standing somewhere new.

The ground beneath him was cold and unfamiliar, a surface neither metallic nor organic but something in between. The sky above was not a sky—a vast, churning void where colors bled into one another like liquid madness, shifting from crimson to gold, then to an abyssal black deeper than sight itself.

And in the distance, looming like the hushed breath before a storm, a throne of shattered stars.

But Eden had no time to admire the scenery.

Because in the very next second—

"Candidate 0001, welcome to the Infinite Trial."

The voice was deep, mechanical, and far too close.

Eden whipped around, his body instinctively bracing for impact, only to find himself face-to-face with a monolithic figure of glass and shadow.

It was humanoid in shape, yet entirely featureless, save for its glimmering fractured core, where an innumerable amount of tiny, screaming faces twisted and contorted. A being whose presence felt like the whisper of dying stars, its existence tethered between reality and the unknowable.

The entity tilted its head ever so slightly, as though analyzing him.

"Designation: Eden D. Souldrake. Current Status: Newly Reconstructed Entity. Initial Adaptation: 0.0001% Complete."

Eden's mind processed those words in fragments, his instincts screaming that something was very, very wrong.

"Adaptation…? Newly reconstructed? What the hell does that mean?"

Before he could ask, the entity continued:

"The First Trial will now commence."

The moment those words left its non-existent lips, reality shattered.

—

The Descent into Madness

Eden fell.

Not down, not up—just fell. Through concepts, memories, and the raw fabric of existence itself. The universe around him was not solid; it was a swirling ocean of shattered time, looping fragments of unknown futures and rewritten pasts.

For a fleeting second, he saw himself—older, scarred, wielding a blade that whispered secrets of the void.

Then another—himself as a corpse, lifeless and forgotten in a ruined world.

Then another—himself laughing, victorious, a king among gods.

Each version screamed their truths into his mind, fracturing his very sense of self.

"No… I am me. I am Eden."

He focused. Forced himself to breathe, even in a world where breath didn't exist. The madness bent but did not break him. And in that defiant moment, the chaos solidified—

—And he found himself standing upon a battlefield.

A voice, softer now but no less ancient, whispered into his mind.

"The Law of Narrative Irony is watching."

Eden barely had time to register that warning before the world roared to life.

—

The First Trial: Survive

The battlefield stretched infinitely in all directions—a wasteland of ruins, corpses, and an unnatural storm that howled with the voices of the damned.

And before him, dozens of figures stirred.

At first, they looked human. But as they rose from the ruins, their true forms became clear—grotesque parodies of warriors, their bodies twisted beyond recognition. Skin fused with metal. Jaws unhinged to inhuman degrees. Some had too many arms, others had too few, and yet all of them turned to face Eden with hollow, hungry eyes.

He exhaled.

"Of course. It couldn't be anything simple."

The air trembled.

The first monster lunged.

Eden moved.

Instinct and experience—both his own and the fragments embedded in his soul—ignited at once. His body twisted, evading the jagged claw that would have torn his throat open. His arm moved on its own, summoning a weapon he had never held before yet knew intimately.

A blade of pure obsidian, its edge flickering between existence and void.

Eden swung.

One slash.

The monster didn't scream. It simply ceased.

The others hesitated.

Eden didn't.

His body surged forward, unnaturally fast, dancing through the battlefield like a ghost. One step, two steps, three—each movement precise, each attack effortless. He wasn't fighting them; he was erasing them.

For the first time since entering this Trial, he felt it.

Power.

Real, undeniable, bone-deep power.

But the battlefield was merciless.

Even as he cut through the abominations, they kept coming. Each one stronger, faster, more unnatural than the last. The storm above churned, and with it, the pressure of something far greater than these creatures began to descend.

Eden gritted his teeth. He needed to end this now.

His grip tightened on his blade. Energy swelled within him, instinct whispering that he could unleash something greater.

And just as he prepared to do so—

The Law of Narrative Irony intervened.

From the heavens, an object fell.

Not fire. Not lightning. Not a divine punishment.

No.

It was—

A giant, oversized, cartoonish rubber duck.

It crashed directly into the battlefield, smashing half the monsters into oblivion with a comically loud squeak.

Eden blinked. The remaining creatures blinked.

For a moment, the entire battlefield was silent.

Then, as if nothing happened—the monsters charged again.

Eden sighed, accepting that this was his life now.

"I hate this universe."

—

The First Trial: Cleared

It took another twenty minutes of relentless combat before the last monster fell.

Eden stood amidst the carnage, breathing hard, his body thrumming with the aftermath of battle. His blade flickered once before dissolving into the void.

Above, the storm finally began to clear.

And in its place, a new presence emerged.

Not the mechanical entity from before.

No—this was something far worse.

The sky itself opened, revealing an eye—vast, depthless, ancient beyond comprehension.

And for the first time, Eden felt it.

Not just power. Not just narrative irony.

But the gaze of something that had been watching him long before this Trial began.

A single word thundered through the battlefield, imprinted directly into his mind.

"Interesting."

Eden inhaled sharply.

He didn't know what that thing was.

But he was certain of one thing.

His Trial was far from over.

—