The Trial and The Foundational Script

The Tower of Trials.

There are only two trials within the tower. The first occurs upon entering and is to determine if one is worthy of stepping foot within the Akashic Library.

The second takes place after completing one's foundational script and is to assess whether a Storywalker is deserving of leaving the story, based on what they have gained and the person they have become.

…

Location – ???

Giuseppe opened his eyes to a world unlike anything he had ever seen.

Before him stretched an endless sea of clouds, vast and boundless, glowing under the gaze of a radiant sun suspended in the heavens.

The clouds were thick and voluminous, stacked in towering formations, their edges kissed with hues of gold.

Between the breaks in the clouds, he caught glimpses of an even deeper sky—a canvas of shimmering blues and ethereal colours that swirled together like a living painting.

The light was warm but not harsh, and the world was bathed in a dreamlike brilliance. Overwhelmingly beautiful and sacred. Giuseppe couldn't describe the feelings he felt just witnessing it.

It reminded him of the paintings made by a famous artist from his homeland—visions of paradise that now seemed woefully inadequate compared to the real thing.

Giuseppe slowly took a step forward, the cloud beneath his feet held firm, like mist woven into marble.

In the distance, above the line of clouds, a radiant figure descended slowly, with a weightless grace. Her presence causes the clouds to still. Her robes were glisteningly translucent and flowing like liquid, her long white hair floated behind her as a delicate crown of light hovers above her.

"Greetings, traveller. I am Genesis." Her voice was as beautiful as her figure, like heaven's chimes swaying in the wind.

'Don't tell me I have to sit through an un-skippable cut-scene already.' Giuseppe thought from the moment the angelic figure first appeared.

Genesis tilted her head. "Such impatience."

Giuseppe froze. "…Huh?"

"I said," Genesis repeated. "Such. Impatience."

Her celestial voice didn't change a beat, but Giuseppe stood still in silence.

Moments passed. Then, Genesis smiled again, serene as the view behind her.

"You may speak freely here. Thought and word echo the same."

Giuseppe raised a brow, then simply relaxed into a casual stance. This would seem ordinary to some, but Genesis' eyes shot out in surprise.

'There are… No thoughts? He isn't capable of hiding them from me yet… How-'

As her eyes glowed a celestial white, she stared intently at the young man before her. She eventually let out a resigned sigh, observing Giuseppe as though he were an animal.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You have always been one easily triggered."

Giuseppe stopped at her words. His black eyes narrowed sharply at Genesis.

"There is no need to act so surprised. Despite your desire to hide it. I know exactly what kind of person you are, Black."

It was at this point that Giuseppe's stare shifted to confusion.

"I thought you could read my mind. Surely you would know my name at the very least."

Genesis didn't bother to entertain him. "I could explain. But I don't feel like it. Anyway, time for you to go."

Then, without any warning, the world around him began to fracture.

In front of him, he saw a single thin, jagged black line appear out of nowhere, like a small tear in paper.

But before long, thin, jagged black lines raced across the endless white sky like that paper was now going through a shredder.

The warm, sacred light flickered and dimmed. The clouds below his feet trembled, then began to fall apart.

"Oh, and just so you know," Genesis spoke as she floated above the falling clouds, Giuseppe falling with them.

Her clear voice, without a change in tone or volume, reverberated across the broken sky, despite the ever-increasing distance between them.

"I won't make it so easy for you this time."

CRACK.

The sky finally split open completely.

A deafening, rumbling roar echoed through the infinite expanse as the heavens shattered like broken glass. Huge fragments of the glowing sky tumbled into the void below.

Then, through the cracks, a plethora of eyes opened, in colours he couldn't even comprehend. Each pupil stared into his soul with unfathomable malice.

He felt a force yank him down like a giant, unseen hand, pulling him through the collapsing heavens at a dizzying speed.

He heard painful screeching in his ears to the point of bleeding. But, from where it came was unknown.

"Good luck. You are going to need it."

The fragments of the broken sky blurred past him like comets. He felt like a grain of sand, falling through the hourglass.

…

Blink. Blink.

GASP!

Giuseppe gasped himself awake, finding himself sprawled across a cold marble floor.

Groaning, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and rose to his feet.

He glanced around while steadying himself, but the sight before his eyes made them widen like saucers.

Towering bookshelves stretched so high they seemed to last forever, filled with countless tomes, scrolls and of course, scripts.

The air was thick with the scent of ancient parchment.

Massive glass domes crown the cathedral-like ceiling above, revealing a swirling, starry expanse beyond. The constellations danced overhead, bleeding down in rivers of gold and blue.

The library seemed endless, and if this place was where he thought it was, then there truly was no end, indeed.

The Akashic Library.

'But how am I here? Wasn't I supposed to complete the Tower's first trial?' Giuseppe thought, confused.

'I knew the first trial was going to be easy, but to not even let me do it at all?'

He frowned. He searched his mind for an answer.

'What was it supposed to be? Something about getting a true name or…'

Then it hit him.

Giuseppe widened his eyes; something Genesis said to him replayed in his mind like a film.

Her voice echoed in his skull, and the more it replayed in his head, the more condescending it sounded.

"I know exactly what kind of person you are, Black."

"…Black…"

His pupils constricted.

'Is that supposed to be my name?'

Crack.

His teeth ground together. A tremor rolled through his jaw, down his spine, and shook his shoulders. His fingers twitched, then curled into fists so tight the knuckles turned white.

He had been prepared for this.

Giuseppe knew that by entering the Tower and completing the trial, he would be granted a so-called "True Name."

Though the meaning of that was never truly quite clear to him. He hadn't cared.

He held it with little more importance than the usernames he created in the various FDVR games he had played throughout his life.

He knew this would happen. But. For him to be given a "True Name" with such nonchalance and disregard. Rather than earning one for himself by overcoming his own trial.

Giuseppe Castellano was furious.

'This is insulting!'

"I know exactly what kind of person you are, Black."

'You know nothing!'

Blood dripped from his clenched fists, staining the marble beneath, though he didn't appear to notice.

What he did notice, however, was the glowing piece of parchment that appeared, floating before him.

Giuseppe grabbed the floating parchment, and upon coming into contact with his bloodied hand, a white and gold screen appeared before his eyes.

[The Edathis Chronicles]

[In a world born in blood.]

[A land where the earth's mountains soared above the skies, rivers laughed with the blood of old gods. And the heavens turned a blind eye to the debauchery, degeneracy, corruption and profanity of the humans below.]

[Four great nations rose, each shaped by the dreams and legends of their people.]

[In the North, where the frozen winds and snow-coated lands chill the bones of ordinary men, stood Crovania. The kingdom of the stone-hearted. The fractured lands of steel and blood, of iron citadels and sunless coasts.]

[Beyond the southern seas bloomed the kingdom of Wistoria, the kingdom of attraction. A realm of eternal spring, golden meadows, and jewelled cities strung along emerald rivers. Where Inventors, alchemists and dreamers dwell, and where a merchant's smile could hide a thousand knives.]

[To the East, The Federation of Zathain. The storm-born realm, a kingdom of jagged cliffs and endless rain, where tempests rage across obsidian shores and thunder is as constant as breath. Black clouds coil eternally above the mountains, and lightning dances across the sky like a living god. The land is harsh, but the Zathainese are harsher.]

[And in the blazing West thrived the Sultanate of Jottrye—a land of golden deserts and grand cities hidden in the sand like mirages. The voices of old guide the ambitions of the new, as prophets, seers and monarchs walk the same sun-scorched paths their forebears carved into legend.]

Giuseppe stared silently at the floating parchment. It seems that after reading the description on the holographic screen, it had disappeared. Along with its faint golden glow.

Then, the parchment disappeared into motes of light, which then flew into Giuseppe's connector on his wrist.

He then plucked a single marble-sized bead from the bracelet and held it before him. The bead was black, as were the rest of them that completed the bracelet, but what stood out were the glowing golden runes adorning each bead. The one between Giuseppe's fingers was no different.

"Alright…"

With his confirmation, the bead's light shone even brighter, and soon—

The world turned dark.

***

The throne room of Veyndral Keep was a cathedral of blue and silver.

Vast midnight banners hung from the towering stone pillars, each one embroidered with ancient symbols of power no living scholar could decipher, inscribed in a language long forgotten.

Lining the entrance, flanking the great doors like statues carved by the finest blacksmith, stood the royal knights. Clad in silver armour and white cloaks. Each held a long, dark glaive in hand.

At the far end of the hall, upon a throne carved from white stone and veined with living silver, sat the King.

Tall, ageless, wrapped in flowing blue and silver, his cyan eyes held a deep wisdom that only came from countless years at the helm of a kingdom.

Atop his head sat a brilliant white crown. Forged from celestial ivory, it curved like the branches of an ancient tree reaching for the stars.

Beneath the dais, gathered in a crescent at the foot of the throne, knelt five figures. 

Each face was lowered to the stone floor, bathed in the cold light streaming through stained glass. A few wore the robes of diplomats, one still clutched a scroll in trembling fingers. Another bled silently from his freshly broken jaw.

"Perhaps you have come to beg. To explain your failures, or perhaps even to atone for them." The king's cold voice spoke from the throne.

He tapped his finger on his armrest and pointed at one kneeling figure, on the right. And without hesitation, one of the knights moved.

In a flash of silver, the man's head hit the floor with a wet thud. The headless body slumped sideways, falling beside the shaking figure of his comrade. 

Blood pooled across the stone like ink. But none of the four remaining dared lift their eyes, not even flinch.

The king exhaled, his cyan eyes scanned across the four remaining.

"But intent is irrelevant." 

At the king's side stood a silhouette cloaked in grey, with his head bowed low—his trusted adviser, known only as Vaelen the Whisperer.

The king glanced at Vaelen and ordered. "Bring it."

Before long, Vaelen returned with four knights in tow. Each with a crucible in hand, its surface seething with molten liquid.

The first knight stepped forward, the crucible in his gauntleted hands glowed white-hot, the molten liquid within steamed and bubbled eerily close the the kneeling figure before the knight.

They each shook in their kowtow positions, their breath quickened as knights stepped before them, bearing their own crucibles.

The king leaned back, his expression unreadable. "You sought to defy me."

"And now, you will serve as an example. Of what defiance brings."

The knights acted as one. They each seized one of the traitors, wrenching their head back. Their mouths opened in silent gasps.

Molten gold poured into their throats.

"GGLK—AAAH—!"

"HRRK—KHH—!"

"BLGH—BLGH—AAAH!"

"HAAAGH—KHK—KHK—!" 

The screams that tore from their throats were the sounds beyond agony. Their bodies convulsed, their flesh blackening as the liquid fire seared through them from within.

Their throats were boiled first, cutting off their screams rather quickly. Then came the eyes. They began to bleed sizzling blood that steamed the air with the scent of scorched meat and molten metal, and it spread across the throne room.

But none that remained alive within it cared.

The king lifted his gaze to the knights; his order was clear merely from his gaze. And soon, only Vaelen remained.

After some time, the king's whisperer knelt and spoke. "They will arrive soon, my liege."

"The next batch of travellers from the beyond."

The King said nothing at first. Merely, he lifted one hand lazily to stroke his chin.

"New seeds," the King finally murmured, voice deep and commanding, echoing across the empty hall.

"Some will bloom into mighty oaks. Others will wither before they see the sun. It matters not. Their blood will feed the soil of this world."

Vaelen dared not raise his head.

"Shall I send the Watchers to observe, sire?"

The King leaned slightly further into his throne, his lips curled into something almost like a smile.

"There will be no longer such foolish questions, Vaelen. Of course, you will observe."

"I will hear no more of this matter."

The King rose to his feet.

"Prepare for the carriage ride to the meadow," he commanded.

"I will join my daughter in her ceremony. The people will expect a blessing from their king."

He paused as he stepped down from the throne, casting a glance toward the stained glass windows shimmering with myths.

"And if one of these new seeds forgets whose soil they tread... remind them."

"They walk upon the grounds of Vel'kharin. Soon to be the Fifth Great Nation." 

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Author Note

;)