Chapter 35
Elliot's world snapped back into focus with a jolt.
He stood in an open field beneath a sky painted in hues of violet and crimson. A vast expanse stretched before him, rippling with grass that shimmered like liquid silver. The air smelled of rain, though the ground beneath him was dry.
Where… am I?
The last thing he remembered was reading that glowing text in the book—then darkness.
A sharp wind rushed past, carrying whispers. Not words, not voices, just… impressions. Fear. Determination. The weight of something looming.
Elliot's muscles tensed.
And then—
A figure emerged from the mist.
Tall. Cloaked in deep black. A hood obscured their face, but the air hummed around them—an unmistakable pressure of power.
Elliot swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
The figure lifted a hand.
The ground shuddered.
And from the earth, a sword rose—its blade black as the void, pulsing with veins of deep crimson.
A weapon forged from something far beyond normal steel.
The figure grasped the hilt, pointing it directly at Elliot.
His breath hitched. "Oh. Of course. A fight."
The figure charged.
Elliot barely had time to react. He dove to the side as the sword slashed through the air, leaving a faint trail of darkness. The sheer force of it sent shockwaves rippling across the field.
No words. No explanations. Just battle.
Elliot scrambled to his feet, heart hammering. He had no weapon. No armor. Just his instincts and whatever magic he barely understood.
But running?
Not an option.
He clenched his fists, willing the energy inside him to respond.
Come on, come on—!
A flicker of light pulsed at his fingertips.
The figure attacked again.
Elliot dodged—just barely. The blade sang past his cheek, close enough that he could feel its cold presence.
Too slow. Too weak.
He needed something more.
The whispers in the wind grew. Urgent.
He couldn't make out words, but he felt their meaning.
He had to claim it.
Elliot's gaze flicked to the ground—to where the sword had risen.
Another weapon had begun to emerge.
This one was different.
A hilt wrapped in silver, a blade made of something that glowed—as if it held the very essence of light.
He didn't think.
He moved.
With a burst of energy, he lunged toward it—just as the cloaked figure slashed down again.
He grabbed the hilt.
Light exploded.
The force threw both of them apart.
Elliot crashed onto his back, gasping. The sword in his hands pulsed, its warmth seeping into his skin. It recognized him.
He belonged to it.
The cloaked figure stood slowly, head tilting as if assessing.
Then, for the first time, they spoke.
"Good."
Their voice was deep, echoing—neither male nor female.
"The trial begins."
Elliot barely had time to brace himself before they attacked again.
And this time—
He was ready.
Elliot's pulse thundered.
The moment the figure spoke, the entire battlefield shifted. The wind grew sharper, the sky darker, the very ground beneath his feet pulsed with unseen energy.
His newly claimed sword—radiant and warm—hummed in his grasp.
The cloaked figure didn't hesitate. They lunged again, their dark blade screeching through the air.
Elliot's body moved before his mind could catch up.
CLANG!
The impact rattled his bones. His feet slid back, carving twin trails in the dirt.
But—he didn't fall.
The figure pressed forward, relentless. Blow after blow, faster than anything he had ever faced.
Elliot barely kept up. His arms burned. His breath came in shallow gasps.
But something inside him refused to yield.
The whispers from before returned—stronger, clearer.
Yield, and you fail.
Fight, and you learn.
Strike, and you grow.
He clenched his teeth.
Fine.
He wasn't just going to survive this.
He was going to win.
He ducked low, twisting his grip on the sword. The next attack whistled past his head. With a burst of energy, he countered—swinging upward.
CLASH!
A burst of light erupted where their blades met.
The figure staggered, just slightly.
Elliot didn't let the opening go to waste.
He spun, bringing his sword down in a precise arc.
SHHHING!
His blade scraped against the figure's shoulder, sparks flying.
For the first time, they stepped back.
Elliot's breath was ragged. His heart slammed against his ribs. But a spark of triumph ignited in his chest.
He was adapting.
The figure tilted their head. "Better."
Then, without warning—
They vanished.
Elliot's eyes widened. What?!
A chill ran up his spine.
Behind you.
He didn't think—he moved.
WHOOSH!
The dark blade sliced just past his ribs, missing him by inches. He twisted, swinging wildly—only for his sword to meet empty air.
The figure had already vanished again.
They're faster now.
Elliot gritted his teeth. He couldn't just react. He had to predict.
Closing his eyes for the briefest second, he focused—feeling the shifts in energy around him. The pulse of movement.
There.
He turned sharply, sword raised—
Just as the figure reappeared.
Their blades clashed mid-strike, sending a shockwave through the battlefield.
Elliot dug his heels in, pushing back with everything he had.
The figure didn't budge. But—
For the first time—
They smiled.
A deep, knowing grin beneath that hood.
"You are learning," they murmured.
Then—
The entire world shattered.
Elliot gasped as the battlefield dissolved into light. His body plunged downward, falling—
And then—
Everything went black.
Darkness.
It swallowed everything—his senses, his thoughts, his very existence.
Elliot gasped, but no sound came. He reached out, but his arms felt weightless.
Was this… death?
No.
The whispering presence in his mind remained, steady and unwavering.
You are still here.
A sudden pull wrenched him downward.
Gravity returned. Air rushed past his skin. His body plummeted.
Then—
WHOOSH!
A blinding flash erupted beneath him.
Elliot's body slammed onto a solid surface.
His lungs seized. His vision swam.
Groaning, he pushed himself up, blinking rapidly.
The darkness was gone.
In its place—
A vast, golden expanse stretched in all directions. The sky shimmered with hues of deep orange and violet, like a perpetual sunset. Floating islands drifted lazily in the distance, their edges cascading with waterfalls that disappeared into the void. Strange, luminescent birds glided through the air, leaving behind trails of light.
This wasn't the battlefield.
This wasn't anywhere he had ever seen before.
Where am I?
He staggered to his feet, scanning the area. His sword was still in his grip, though it felt heavier now, almost as if it, too, was uncertain.
A presence stirred behind him.
Elliot spun—
And his breath caught.
A figure stood at the edge of a floating bridge.
They were cloaked in deep, flowing robes, their face hidden behind a smooth, featureless mask. But something about them was familiar.
A memory flickered in his mind—the battle, the hooded figure who had tested him.
"…Is it you?" His voice came out hoarse.
The masked figure tilted their head.
"Perhaps," they said. "Or perhaps I am merely the next step."
Elliot frowned. "What does that even mean?"
The figure didn't answer. Instead, they extended a hand—pointing toward the bridge behind them.
A single path, stretching into the unknown.
Elliot exhaled sharply. He had no idea where this led. No clue what lay ahead.
But…
His grip on his sword tightened.
There was no turning back now.
So, with steady steps, he walked forward—
And crossed the threshold.