The Path of the Unwritten Light
Light.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Raiyan saw light.
Not the eerie glow of the abyss. Not the flickering lanterns that led him deeper into the unknown.
This was different.
The moment he stepped through the door, a wave of warmth hit him. His feet no longer scraped against jagged stone but touched something softer—grass.
The sky stretched above him, endless and cloudless, painted in hues of deep crimson and violet. A horizon that did not belong to the world he had known.
He turned back, expecting to see the door he had just passed through—
But it was gone.
Only the open field remained.
Raiyan exhaled slowly, gripping his sword.
"No turning back now."
---
Despite the eerie tranquility, Raiyan knew better than to lower his guard. The air was too still. The silence was unnatural.
Yet the world here was not dead—it was waiting.
The grass rustled without wind. The sky shimmered, as if reality itself wasn't fully formed.
And then—
Footsteps.
Not his own.
Raiyan spun, blade raised.
A figure approached from the distance, moving with a slow, deliberate grace. A man in white robes, his face hidden beneath a hood.
But something was… wrong.
The man's body flickered. Glitched. As if he wasn't entirely real.
And then he spoke.
"You are not supposed to be here."
The voice was calm, yet it carried weight—like an echo of something ancient.
Raiyan steadied himself. "And yet… here I am."
The figure did not react.
"Your presence is an anomaly."****"You were never written into this story."
Raiyan's grip tightened. "What the hell does that mean?"
The figure took another step. The ground beneath him did not move.
"Your blade is an echo of something lost. Something that should not have been remembered."
A pulse ran through Raiyan's sword.
For a split second, he saw something.
A battlefield, covered in shattered weapons. A warrior clad in silver, wielding a sword that shone like the sun.
The vision vanished.
The figure in white tilted his head. "You saw it, didn't you?"
Raiyan's breathing quickened.
That vision…
It felt real.
Like a memory buried deep within the blade.
"Who was he?" Raiyan demanded.
The figure did not answer. Instead, he raised his hand.
And the world shifted.
--
The field around Raiyan fractured.
The sky darkened, the crimson hues twisting into shadows. The grass withered, replaced by a ground of cracked stone.
And in the distance—a throne.
Massive. Empty.
Yet Raiyan felt its presence weighing down on him.
The figure in white stood before it now, his form flickering in and out of existence.
"There is only one path forward."
He raised his hand.
A weapon formed—not a sword, but something else. A staff, black as the void, pulsating with an unfamiliar energy.
Raiyan exhaled, shifting his stance.
Another fight.
He had expected this.
But something was different.
This time, he felt like he was being judged.
The moment he moved, the figure vanished.
Raiyan barely had time to react before the staff came swinging toward him from behind.
He turned, raising his sword—too slow.
The impact sent him flying.
Pain erupted through his ribs as he crashed against the ground, rolling to a stop.
His vision blurred.
The man hadn't even used his full strength.
"Fast. Too fast."
Raiyan pushed himself up, his hands trembling. His sword hummed with energy—but it wasn't enough.
The figure appeared again.
"Your sword does not belong here," he said. "Your existence is an error."
Then he attacked again.
---
This time, Raiyan did not block.
He moved.
The staff missed by an inch. The air screamed as it cut through the space where his head had been.
Raiyan lunged, swinging his sword—but the figure disappeared again.
A voice whispered behind him.
"Predictable."
The staff struck again. But this time—
Raiyan's sword moved on its own.
Or rather, he felt it respond before his mind could even register the attack.
A clash of metal. Sparks flew.
The force still sent him staggering back—but this time, he wasn't completely overwhelmed.
"It's trying to teach me."
Every fight so far had been about endurance. Surviving. But this wasn't survival anymore.
This was learning.
His opponent wasn't trying to kill him.
He was forcing Raiyan to adapt.
And if that was the case—
Raiyan gritted his teeth.
Then he would adapt.
---
The duel continued, but something had changed.
Raiyan was no longer just defending.
His sword—his once-broken blade—was beginning to move in ways he had never used before.
A feint. A counter. A shift in momentum that forced his opponent to adjust.
For the first time, the figure in white hesitated.
And Raiyan felt it.
For a single second… the figure's movements became flawed.
Like he wasn't supposed to be there either.
Like he, too, was an anomaly.
Raiyan saw an opening.
And he took it.
His sword sliced through the air.
A direct strike—one he was sure would land.
But the moment the blade connected—
The world shattered.
---
Raiyan gasped as the battlefield vanished.
The throne. The withered land. Gone.
He was somewhere else.
Floating.
Weightless.
A void stretched around him—endless, but different from the abyss.
And before him…
The figure in white stood unscathed.
But this time, his hood was gone.
And Raiyan's breath hitched.
Because the face that stared back at him…
Was his own.
A mirror image.
But not a reflection.
The other Raiyan studied him with an unreadable expression.
Then, he spoke.
"Now do you see?"
The void trembled.
The sword pulsed.
And for the first time since his arrival—
Raiyan felt fear.
---
To Be Continued…