undeniable will

His stomach twisted in on itself. His legs felt like lead, his ribs ached with every breath, and his head throbbed with exhaustion.

But he kept moving.

Even though he shouldn't be able to.

Even though everything in his body screamed at him to stop.

"Dammit…" He staggered forward, his hand pressing against his ribs. How long had it been since he entered this place? Hours? Days? There was no sun, no sky, no sense of time. Only the Trial. Only this endless, shifting world that wanted to grind him down until there was nothing left.

And yet…

He was still here.

His throat was dry, his vision blurred at the edges, but he refused to stop.

He didn't know what was keeping him going.

It wasn't strength.

It wasn't willpower.

It was something else. Something deep, buried beneath his own hatred for this world.

He moved forward because no one thought he would.

Because he wasn't supposed to make it this far.

Because the world had already decided he was worthless.

So he'd spite it. Even if it killed him.

Then—he heard it.

A low, guttural sound. Close.

His pulse spiked. His tired body tensed. He forced himself to look up, to focus, to ignore the dizziness clouding his thoughts.

And then he saw it.

The creature was unlike the ones before.

It was bigger.

Twisted.

Its form was wrong, flickering between solid and shifting, its body stitched together from the very darkness that made up this Trial.

Two arms—no, four. Its head twisted unnaturally, jagged bone jutting from its form like unfinished sculpture.

And its eyes.

It had too many.

All of them locked onto him.

"...Shit." His voice was barely above a whisper.

Then it moved.

Not flickering, not shifting.

It charged.

And his body, broken and starving, couldn't keep up.

It was on him in an instant.

A claw swiped—

He barely dodged.

Pain tore through his side as the attack grazed him, sending him sprawling across the ground. Blood spilled onto the cracked earth.

His limbs screamed. His lungs burned. He couldn't move.

The creature loomed over him.

This was it.

This was where he died.

And yet—

He still wasn't dead.

Because the thing didn't finish him off.

It was waiting.

Testing him.

Just like the Trial itself.

His fingers curled into the dirt. His breath came ragged. His body was at its limit.

But his mind wasn't.

Not yet.

His lips curled into a bloody grin.

"You think I'm just gonna lay here and die?" His voice was hoarse, shaking. But it still came out.

The creature lowered itself.

Waiting. Watching.

Daring him to fight back.

He spat blood onto the ground and forced himself onto one knee.

"Fine." His voice was barely more than a growl.

If the Trial wanted a fight—

It would damn well get one.

Pain.

That was all he knew.

It pulsed through his ribs, burned in his limbs, filled every ragged breath he took. His body was barely holding itself together, a broken thing still forcing itself to stand.

But he had no choice.

The creature waited.

Not attacking. Not finishing him off.

Just watching.

It knew. It knew he was at his limit.

And that pissed him off.

He staggered forward, his vision swimming, but his voice still came out—hoarse, broken, but defiant.

"You… waiting for me to keel over?" He spat blood onto the cracked ground, his breath sharp. "Tch. Too bad. Not happening."

The creature tilted its head, too many eyes blinking in eerie, unnatural patterns. It didn't understand his words. It didn't need to.

Because it understood something deeper.

This wasn't a fight for survival.

It was a threshold.

The Trial wasn't about victory.

It was about endurance.

And he was right on the edge.

The creature lunged.

He moved too slow.

A clawed limb slammed into his side—white-hot pain burst through him as he was sent rolling across the ground, his back crashing against a jagged rock.

His scream was raw, broken. His vision blurred. The taste of blood filled his mouth.

His body—it shouldn't be able to move anymore.

Everything hurt.

Everything screamed at him to stop.

But his fingers still curled into the dirt.

And he still forced himself to rise.

"...This Trial is a real piece of shit," he muttered, breathless, dragging himself to his feet.

The creature watched.

The air shifted.

Then—something changed.

His pain didn't fade. His exhaustion didn't disappear.

But he felt it.

A pull.

Not from the creature. Not from the Trial itself.

From inside.

It was faint. Almost unreal.

But it was there.

Like something was waiting for him to reach it.

Something he had to claim.

His lips parted. His breath was ragged, his vision flickering, but his grip on consciousness held.

This was the Trial.

This was what it wanted.

Not victory.

Not a clean fight.

It wanted him to walk the edge of death.

And keep going anyway.

The creature tensed.

It was testing him.

And he finally understood.

"...Fine," he exhaled, steadying himself, ignoring the pain lancing through his limbs. His body was done. His strength was gone.

But that didn't matter anymore.

Because if this Trial wanted him to break—

It would have to try harder.The pain didn't fade.

His wounds didn't heal.

Yet something inside him shifted.

It was like a thread tugging at his core, unseen but undeniable. A silent pull, leading him forward.

The creature sensed it too.

Its too-many eyes flickered, its body twitching in erratic motions, no longer attacking but still watching.

Like it was waiting.

His breath was ragged. His body barely obeyed him. But he took a step. Then another.

And the pull grew stronger.

It wasn't something physical. It wasn't even something external.

It was inside him.

A force he had never felt before—something raw, something that had always been there, buried beneath the weight of a life that had never let him reach for more.

"...What the hell is this?" His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

The creature didn't answer.

But it moved.

Not toward him.

It stepped back.

His pulse spiked.

What was happening?

The thing had been moments away from tearing him apart, yet now it watched from a distance.

Almost like it had done its part.

Like it had pushed him far enough.

The pull inside him tightened.

His breath hitched.

Then—he saw it.

Not with his eyes.

Not in the way he saw the world around him.

This was something else.

A faint, flickering light.

It wasn't in front of him. It wasn't anywhere in the Trial's warped, desolate landscape.

It was inside him.

Like a door waiting to be opened.

His fingers twitched. His body swayed, exhaustion trying to pull him under, but his mind wouldn't let go.

This was what the Trial wanted him to see.

Not just the pain.

Not just the suffering.

The threshold.

The point where he had to decide—

Would he step through?

Or would he break and fade into the nothingness this place was designed to create?

His lips curled, teeth bared in a half-snarl, half-grin.

"Tch… like hell I'm stopping now."

He reached for it.

And the world shattered.