The Real Trial Begins

The first trial had ended, but the weight of it still lingered in the air. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows through the thinning canopy of the forest. I stood among the other survivors, my body relaxed but my mind alert. Many of them were breathing heavily, their expressions ranging from exhaustion to relief. A few bore wounds—some shallow, others deeper.

I remained unscathed.

The hooded figure stepped forward, their presence commanding silence. They slowly scanned the remaining participants, their gaze lingering on each of us for a brief moment before moving on.

"You survived the first test."

Their voice was calm, but beneath it lay an unspoken challenge. This wasn't praise—it was acknowledgment. A simple statement of fact.

"The weak have been culled. Now, the true test begins."

A few exchanged uneasy glances. I simply watched, waiting.

The hooded figure raised a hand, and more figures emerged from the trees, each clad in dark robes. They carried wooden chests, which they placed in front of us before stepping back.

"Inside these chests, you will find the tools for your next trial," the figure continued. "Choose wisely."

At their gesture, the chests were opened, revealing a collection of weapons and basic equipment. Swords, daggers, bows, and even some crude armor. Nothing too extravagant, but enough to give us an edge in whatever came next.

Some of the others rushed forward without hesitation, grabbing whatever they could. I remained still, observing.

Weapons were important, but they were secondary to understanding the rules of the game.

I glanced at the hooded figure. Their expression remained unreadable, but I caught the slightest twitch of their lips. Amusement.

They were watching to see who would panic.

I stepped forward casually, picking up a simple dagger and a short sword. Practical. Efficient. Easy to conceal. I tested the weight in my hands, then strapped them to my belt before stepping back.

The moment everyone had made their selections, the figure spoke again.

"The next trial is simple."

They gestured toward the forest behind them.

"You have until nightfall to reach the other side of the valley."

The tension in the air sharpened instantly.

I could already tell there was more to it than that.

Some of the others clearly thought the same, hesitation flickering in their expressions. Others seemed relieved—crossing a valley wasn't nearly as daunting as surviving a night in the forest.

Fools.

"The valley is vast," the figure continued. "And you will not be the only ones traversing it."

That confirmed my suspicions. There would be obstacles.

Or worse—hunters.

"The trial begins now."

No further explanations. No warnings. Just an abrupt start.

Some bolted immediately, disappearing into the trees. Others took a moment to strategize before setting off.

I turned without a word and started walking.

The valley was a sprawling expanse of uneven terrain. Tall grasses swayed in the morning breeze, and dense clusters of trees offered occasional cover. A river carved through the land in the distance, its surface glinting beneath the sunlight.

This wasn't just a test of endurance.

This was a battlefield.

I took my time moving forward, keeping to the edges where visibility was lower. Rushing in blindly would only increase the chances of being ambushed.

And sure enough, within an hour, the sounds of conflict began echoing through the valley.

Distant shouts. Clashing steel. The sharp whistle of arrows cutting through the air.

A group had engaged in combat nearby.

I veered away, weaving through the underbrush. Fighting now was pointless. The objective was survival, not pointless battles.

However, that didn't mean I couldn't use the chaos to my advantage.

I climbed a low-hanging tree, positioning myself for a better view. Below, I spotted the source of the commotion.

Two groups were locked in combat, their desperation evident. Some had formed temporary alliances, while others attacked indiscriminately.

Foolish.

Alliances formed under pressure were brittle. They wouldn't last.

I turned my attention further ahead, scanning the terrain. The valley stretched far, but there were clear chokepoints—places where the terrain forced movement into narrow paths. Those would be the most dangerous areas.

And the most useful.

I climbed down and continued forward, staying low. The sooner I crossed, the better.

By midday, the number of participants had already thinned. I spotted several unconscious—or dead—bodies along the way. Some had been taken out cleanly. Others… not so much.

I found a body slumped against a tree, their throat slit cleanly. Whoever did it knew what they were doing.

Interesting.

There was at least one other participant who was skilled.

Good.

That meant I wasn't the only one thinking strategically.

The river ahead presented another problem. It was wide and slow-moving, but crossing it would leave me vulnerable. I crouched near the bank, scanning for any movement.

I wasn't alone.

A ripple in the water. A shadow shifting beneath the surface.

Someone was waiting.

I picked up a small rock and tossed it further downstream.

A figure burst from the water, blade in hand, striking where the rock had landed.

A trap.

I moved immediately, dashing across the shallows while their attention was elsewhere. By the time they turned, I was already on the other side.

The would-be ambusher hesitated for a split second, then retreated back beneath the water.

Smart.

They knew when to abandon an attack.

I kept moving, the sun creeping lower in the sky. The final stretch of the valley was coming into view. A narrow pass between two rocky cliffs.

A perfect place for an ambush.

I stayed back, watching. The first few participants to reach it rushed in without thinking.

Arrows rained down from above.

I counted the angles, the firing patterns.

Four archers. Maybe five.

They had the advantage.

But that also meant they were predictable.

I moved to the left, climbing the rock face as quietly as possible. It was slow, tedious work, but it granted me something invaluable—control.

As I reached the top, I spotted the archers. Five of them, just as I'd predicted. Focused on the ground below, unaware of the real threat above them.

I didn't hesitate.

A quick, silent approach.

A swift strike to the nearest one, sending them tumbling down before they could react.

Panic.

Confusion.

They turned, but by then, I had already disarmed another.

Two fled. The remaining one hesitated.

A mistake.

I knocked them unconscious before slipping back into the shadows.

With the ambush neutralized, the remaining participants rushed through the pass.

By the time I descended and walked through, no one even noticed me.

As night fell, the survivors gathered on the far side of the valley. Only a fraction of the original group remained.

The hooded figure was waiting.

They looked over us once more, and this time, I noticed something different.

Approval.

"You have all passed."

A pause.

"Welcome to the Shadow Sanctum."

A door to the unknown had just opened.

And I was ready to step through it.