The Trial

The world inside the Tear was wrong.

There was no sky, no sun, no horizon. Just an endless void, pulsing with faint, shifting light. It wasn't dark, but it wasn't bright either—a place trapped between states, between realities. The ground beneath him wasn't solid stone, nor was it earth. It breathed, rising and falling as if alive, its surface covered in faintly glowing cracks. Heat seeped up from below, but the air itself was cold.

Everything felt like it was in flux, like the Trial itself wasn't finished deciding what it wanted to be.

The boy clenched his teeth, dragging in a slow breath. His body still ached, his ribs burning. But none of that mattered now.

Because the thing hunting him had started moving again.

He snapped his head up just in time to see it flicker. One second it was distant, the next it was—

"Shit!"

He twisted to the side just as the space beside him collapsed inward. A hole in reality itself, stretching open like a wound before snapping shut again. If he had moved a second slower, he would have been inside it.

He didn't know what that would do to him.

But he had a feeling he wouldn't like it.

Staggering back, he exhaled sharply. His breath curled in the freezing air, even as sweat dripped down his face. "So that's how this is gonna go, huh?" His voice came out rough, his throat dry. He hadn't spoken in days. There was no one to talk to.

Until now.

His eyes flicked toward the creature. It wasn't moving. Just standing there, shifting and flickering at the edges of sight.

He let out a low breath, flexing his fingers. "You just gonna stand there, or are you actually gonna try and kill me?"

It twitched.

Then—it responded.

Not with sound. Not with movement.

But with something far worse.

The ground beneath him rippled. The cracks widened, pulsing with light, and suddenly the world around him was changing.

He staggered back, his pulse spiking. The Trial itself was shifting, the very air warping. The once-flat ground twisted into jagged spires, some rising, others crumbling. The faint glow intensified, as if something deep beneath the surface was waking up.

This wasn't just a battlefield.

It was alive.

His stomach twisted. "Oh, that's just fucking great."

The creature moved.

Not toward him. But into the terrain itself.

Its shifting form flickered, sinking into the pulsing cracks, merging with the Trial.

And then—it was everywhere.

The jagged spires cast deep shadows, and in every single one, he could see it. A flickering, shifting presence, watching him from every angle. No longer one form, but many.

He swallowed hard, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

"Yeah. This is definitely gonna suck."

The Trial had begun.

And he was already running out of time.The shadows moved.

No—they hunted.

What had once been one creature had split into many, shifting in and out of sight, merging with the jagged spires of this fractured world. They weren't just darkness. They were something else.

When they flickered into full form, they were twisted things, vaguely humanoid but lacking definition. Their bodies were like living silhouettes, shifting between states—sometimes solid, sometimes liquid, sometimes little more than smoke. Limbs stretched and contracted unnaturally, flickering like broken images in a shattered mirror.

But their eyes—those were the worst.

There were no pupils, no irises, just empty sockets that burned with an unnatural glow, colors shifting constantly. Not red. Not blue. Not anything that should exist. Something between.

And when they moved, it was wrong.

They didn't step forward. They didn't even seem to move at all. They simply appeared—like the space they occupied had never been empty in the first place.

The boy clenched his fists, breath coming fast.

"Yeah… I don't like that."

One of them twitched.

And then—it attacked.

A black limb shot forward, stretching and twisting mid-air, its form vibrating violently. He barely had time to react before he threw himself back, the attack missing by inches.

Where it had passed, the air itself had split apart, like reality had been sliced open and hastily stitched back together.

His pulse hammered. That wasn't normal.

He gritted his teeth. "Figures. Not enough that I have to fight shadows—they also get to break physics or whatever people called it

The creatures circled him again, their hollow gazes locked onto him. They weren't rushing to kill him.

They were testing him.

He swallowed, rolling his shoulders. His body screamed for rest, but that didn't matter. If these things were trying to see how long he'd last—

Then he'd show them.A grim smile twitched at his lips. Fine.

If this world wanted him to fight—then he'd fight.

If it wanted him to die—then he'd make it work for it.

The world inside the Tear was shifting.

The ground pulsed beneath him, jagged spires twisting higher, casting deep, fractured shadows. The air itself felt thin, like something was pulling it away, swallowing the very space he stood in.

And the creatures—they were still watching.

Waiting.

The boy's fingers curled into fists, but it was useless. He had nothing. No weapons. No strength. No way to fight something that wasn't even bound by reality.

His body was already failing him—his wounds ached, his breath came shallow. If he kept dodging like this, exhaustion would take him before they even had to strike.

His chest burned with frustration.

This wasn't a test of strength.

It was a slow execution.

Another flicker. A shape blurred at the edges of his vision. His instincts screamed—he twisted, barely avoiding a limb that stretched and warped toward him.

He hit the uneven ground, landing hard on his side. The impact sent pain lancing through his ribs.

He groaned, gritting his teeth. "Tch…"

Another flicker.

He rolled just as another strike collapsed the space he had been lying on.

There was no time to breathe. No time to think.He tried running

BUT

They weren't letting him.

They knew he couldn't fight back.

His pulse pounded in his ears. No way out. No chance of winning. He was as good as dead.

And yet, something inside him refused to stop moving. Refused to stop fighting. Even now.

He let out a slow breath, laughing bitterly. "Heh…"

It was almost funny.

He had spent years waiting to die.

And now that it was finally happening—he didn't want to.

Not like this.

Not in some godforsaken place, ripped apart by things that shouldn't even exist.

His vision blurred for a second. His limbs felt heavy. His body was at its limit, and the creatures knew it.

They stopped circling.

And moved in.

He let out a long, shaking breath. "Fine…" He exhaled sharply, straightening despite the pain. "Come on, then."

The shadows swallowed him whole.