Chapter 12: Trial Truth

Raen woke with a start, his body jolting as if pulled from the depths of a nightmare. His breath came in short, panicked gasps, and his hands instinctively flew to his legs—the legs that had been shattered, twisted, and broken beyond repair.

But there was no pain.

Raen froze, his fingers brushing against smooth, unbroken skin. He sat up, his heart pounding as he examined his body. His legs were fine. His arm, which had been torn and dangling uselessly, was fully healed. Even the bruises and cuts that had littered his body were gone, as if they had never existed.

What… what's going on?

He looked around, his mind racing. He was in a dimly lit cave, the faint glow of a lantern casting long shadows on the rough stone walls. A small fire crackled nearby, its warmth filling the space.

"You're awake."

Raen's head snapped toward the voice. Kieran sat a few feet away, his hood pulled back to reveal a face that was almost unfairly handsome.

His sharp jawline was framed by dark, slightly tousled hair, and his piercing eyes seemed to glow faintly in the firelight.

His features were calm and composed, but there was a quiet intensity to him that made Raen feel both reassured and unnerved.

How can someone look like that after everything that just happened.

Raen blinked, momentarily distracted by Kieran's appearance.

He had been too panicked and injured to notice before, but now, in the flickering light of the fire, Kieran looked like he'd stepped out of some kind of storybook.

Handsome, confident, and annoyingly calm. Who even is this guy?

"What… what happened to me?" Raen asked, his voice trembling. "My injuries… they're gone."

Kieran nodded, his tone matter-of-fact. "You're healed. I'll explain later."

Raen stared at him, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. He wanted to press for answers, but before he could speak, movement caught his eye.

Around the fire sat four figures, their silhouettes flickering in the lantern light.

They were warriors, each one radiating a sense of strength and purpose. Raen's gaze darted from one to the next, his unease growing.

Kieran gestured toward them. "Meet the team."

The first to step forward was a massive man, his arms like tree trunks and his presence filling the cave. He nodded at Raen but said nothing, his expression stoic.

"This is Roth," Kieran said. "He's our heavy hitter."

Next was a wiry, sharp-eyed man who leaned casually against the cave wall. His gaze was intense, always scanning, always watching.

"That's Veyne," Kieran continued. "Our scout. He's the one who keeps us out of trouble."

The third figure was a heavily armored man with a deep, resonant voice. He sat by the fire, his posture straight and his eyes sharp.

"Cassian," Kieran said. "Our strategist. If you need a plan, he's your man."

Finally, there was a woman with braided hair and a sharp, calculating gaze. She stood slightly apart from the others, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

"And this is Saela," Kieran said. "She's my second-in-command. Don't mess with her."

Raen's eyes lingered on each of them, his mind struggling to process everything. He noticed something else—a faint, crown-like symbol etched into the skin of their necks, a mark that seemed to glow faintly in the firelight.

What is that?

Before he could ask, Kieran tossed him a piece of bread. "Eat. You'll need your strength."

Raen caught it reflexively, his stomach growling despite his confusion. He stared at the bread, his mind still reeling.

How am I healed? Who are these people? And why do they have that symbol?

He took a hesitant bite, the bread warm and filling, but his appetite was overshadowed by the storm of questions in his mind.

Kieran watched him for a moment, then turned back to the fire. "Rest for now. We've got a lot to talk about."

Raen nodded weakly, his body still tense. He wanted answers, but for now, he could only sit there, surrounded by strangers, and wonder what had happened to him—and what was coming next.

Raen sat by the fire, the warmth of the flames doing little to ease the chill of unease settling in his chest.

---

He glanced at Kieran, who was now leaning back against the cave wall, his expression calm but focused. The rest of the team—Roth, Veyne, Cassian, and Saela—were scattered around the cave, their presence both reassuring and intimidating.

Who are these people? And why do they have that symbol on their necks?

Raen's gaze lingered on the crown-like mark etched into Kieran's skin, faintly glowing in the firelight. It was the same mark the others bore, a symbol of something he didn't yet understand.

"You've got questions," Kieran said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, almost casual, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the life-and-death situation they were in.

Raen nodded, his throat dry. "Yeah. Starting with… how am I healed? And what's going on?"

Kieran leaned forward, the firelight casting shadows across his face. "You're healed because the injuries you sustained weren't real. Not entirely, anyway."

Raen frowned. "What do you mean, 'not real'? I felt them. I saw them."

"The Divine Trials," Kieran began, his tone measured, "take place in a separate dimension—a reflection of reality controlled by the gods. When you're in the trial, your body exists in both worlds at once. If you 'die' in the trial, you don't truly die, but your real body will suffer the same pain and injuries."

Raen's eyes widened. "So… my legs, my arm… they weren't really broken?"

"They were," Kieran corrected. "But only in the trial dimension. When we left, your body reverted to its original state. That's why you're healed."

Raen stared at him, his mind struggling to process the information. "But… why? Why would the gods do something like this?"

Kieran's expression darkened slightly. "Because the trials aren't just battles. They're chess matches. The gods use believers like us as pieces, moving us across the battlefield to achieve their goals."

Raen's stomach churned. "So we're just… pawns?"

"Essentially," Kieran said, his voice grim. "Each god takes turns making a move—changing the terrain, empowering a believer, or sending a command. The battlefield shifts and evolves as gods counter each other's moves. Nothing is random. It's all part of their game."

Raen's hands clenched into fists. "And we're just supposed to go along with it?"

Kieran's gaze hardened. "We don't have a choice. The gods are too powerful to defy directly. But that doesn't mean we can't play the game our way."

Raen looked around at the others, their faces solemn but determined. "So… what's your role in all this? Who do you serve?"

Kieran hesitated for a moment, then reached up to touch the crown-like symbol on his neck. "We're believers of the Hollow King."

Raen's breath caught. The Hollow King. The name stirred something deep within him, a memory he couldn't quite grasp.

"You've heard of him," Kieran said, noting Raen's reaction.

"I… think so," Raen admitted. "But I don't remember much."

Kieran nodded. "The Hollow King is one of the gods vying for control of the battlefield. The Black Sun God owned the land, and the Hollow King is trying to claim it. Our goal is to reach the temple at the center of the battlefield. If we do, the Hollow King gains control."

Raen's mind raced. "And the others? The people trying to kill me?"

Kieran's expression turned serious. "The system message you received at the start of the trial—it marked you as a target. The Hollow King's system declared that you needed to be saved, but other gods marked you for death. Their believers were ordered to kill you on sight."

Raen's blood ran cold. "Why? What did I do?"

Kieran's gaze softened slightly. "That's what we're trying to figure out. But for now, you need to understand this: the trials are a war of strategy between gods, and we're just pieces on their board. If we want to survive, we have to play the game better than they do."

Raen sat back, his mind reeling. The weight of Kieran's words pressed heavily on him, but beneath the fear and confusion, a spark of determination flickered to life.

If this is a game, then I'll find a way to win.

The cave fell silent after Kieran's explanation, the crackling of the fire the only sound filling the space. Raen stared into the flames, his mind racing as he tried to process everything he'd just heard.

The gods are using us as pieces in their game. And I'm a target.

He clenched his fists, the weight of the revelation pressing heavily on his chest. "Why me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would the gods mark me for death?"

Kieran leaned back, his expression unreadable. "That's the question, isn't it?"

Raen looked up, his eyes narrowing. "You said the Hollow King's system declared I needed to be saved. Why? What's so special about me?"

Kieran hesitated, his gaze flickering to Saela, who stood nearby with her arms crossed. She gave a slight nod, as if granting him permission to continue.

"The system message we received," Kieran began, his tone careful, "said you were forced into the trial. You weren't supposed to be here. But someone—or something—pulled you in anyway."

Raen's breath hitched. "Forced into the trial? How is that even possible?"

Maybe, The Black Sun Syndicate forced me!

"It's rare," Kieran admitted. "But not unheard of. The gods have their own agendas, and sometimes they bend the rules to achieve them."

Raen's mind raced, fragments of memories flashing before his eyes. The voice that had spoken to him in the darkness, the power that had surged through him when he used Shard Pulse.

The Hollow King… he reached out to me before. Is this his doing?

"But that's not all," Kieran continued, his voice cutting through Raen's thoughts. "Other gods' systems marked you as a threat. Their believers were ordered to eliminate you on sight."

Raen's stomach churned. "So everyone I fought… they weren't just trying to win. They were trying to kill me."

Kieran nodded. "Exactly."

Raen's hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. "This doesn't make sense. I'm nobody. I'm just… me. Why would the gods care about someone like me?"

Kieran's gaze softened, but there was a hardness in his eyes that made Raen's skin crawl. "That's what we're trying to figure out. But there's more you need to know."

Raen looked up, his heart pounding. "What?"

Kieran took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. "Lira… she wasn't who you thought she was."

Raen froze, his blood turning to ice. "What are you talking about?"

"Lira was part of the Black Sun Syndicate," Kieran said, his voice steady but heavy with meaning. "She was working for the Black Sun God."

Raen's world tilted. "No… that's not possible. Lira wouldn't—"

"She was manipulating you," Kieran interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "Her goal was to lead you toward the Black Sun God's influence. Everything she did—everything she said—was part of their plan."

Raen's chest tightened, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Memories of Lira flooded his mind—her smile, her laughter, the way she had always been there for him.

No. She wouldn't betray me. She couldn't.

But deep down, a part of him knew it was true. The signs had been there all along, subtle but undeniable. The way she had always pushed him toward certain decisions, the way she had seemed to know more than she let on.

Was it all a lie?

Raen's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "Why?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Why would she do that?"

Kieran's expression was grim. "Because the Black Sun God wanted you. And Lira was willing to do whatever it took to deliver you to him."

Raen's vision blurred, his chest heaving as the weight of the betrayal crashed down on him. He felt like he was drowning, the walls of the cave closing in around him.

Lira… how could you?

Kieran watched him silently, his gaze steady but unyielding. "I know this is a lot to take in. But you need to understand the stakes. The gods are playing a dangerous game, and you're at the center of it."

Raen looked up, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and despair. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Kieran's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "You survive. And when the time comes, you fight back."

Raen stared at him, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. For the first time since waking up in the cave, he felt a spark of determination ignite within him.

If this is a game, then I'll find a way to win. No matter what it takes.