Chapter 19: Trial of Shadows

The chamber doors sealed shut behind Gabriel, plunging him into darkness. A low hum filled the air, and the walls flickered to life with red holographic symbols—ancient Federation code, fragmented and shifting.

A voice echoed through the room, mechanical yet eerily familiar.

[TRIAL INITIATED.]

[ADAPTATION. SURVIVAL. UNDERSTANDING.]

Gabriel tensed. He barely had time to react before the floor vanished beneath him.

He fell.

Phase One: The Descent

Wind roared in his ears as he plummeted through a vast, simulated void. Red lights flickered in the distance, revealing a shifting labyrinth of floating platforms. Some crumbled the moment he neared, others shot out jagged spikes of metal.

A test of instincts. Reflexes.

Gabriel twisted his body midair, scanning the paths below. His System interface flickered with warnings, struggling against the corrupted environment. But he wasn't going to let the System decide for him.

He would decide.

Using his momentum, he angled himself toward the largest platform, activating the mech-enhanced boots of his Red Hand armor at the last second. The thrusters flared, slowing his descent just enough for him to hit the ground in a roll.

The moment his feet touched solid surface, the next phase began.

Phase Two: The Gauntlet

A series of constructs materialized before him—humanoid figures made of shifting red energy, their forms glitching between sleek Federation designs and the jagged, makeshift tech of the Underbelly.

They attacked.

Gabriel barely dodged the first strike, a blade-arm slicing past his cheek. He countered with a precise energy burst from his gauntlet, but the construct absorbed the hit, its form warping before striking again.

These weren't simple opponents. They were designed to learn. Adapt. Overwhelm.

Gabriel needed to be smarter.

Instead of direct attacks, he shifted his strategy. He exploited their weaknesses— stepping into their blind spots, predicting their counterattacks before they even moved. The more he fought, the more he felt the System's influence slipping, as if something deeper inside him was taking control.

One by one, the constructs fell.

The last one lunged—Gabriel ducked low and drove his fist straight through its flickering core. The construct shattered into red light.

And the world shifted again.

Phase Three: The Mind's Trial

Suddenly, Gabriel wasn't in the chamber anymore.

He was somewhere else.

A ruined city stretched before him—Neo-Terra, but broken. Burning. The sky was cracked open, revealing a swirling void where the Federation's floating citadel should have been.

And in the center of the devastation, a figure stood waiting.

Gabriel's breath caught.

It was himself.

But not just a reflection—this version of him was clad in Federation armor, his eyes cold and distant. A perfect System soldier.

The other Gabriel tilted his head. "Isn't this what you fear most?"

Gabriel clenched his fists. "You're not real."

The reflection smirked. "Aren't I? If you keep using the System, keep letting it change you—how long until you become exactly what they want you to be?"

Gabriel froze. He had been manipulating the System more and more, breaking its rules, rewriting its code. But what if… what if the System was rewriting him, too?

The other him took a step forward. "The more you fight, the deeper it gets inside you. You think you're free, but you're just another variable in its grand equation."

Gabriel's pulse pounded. Was that true? Could he ever truly break free of the System's grip, or was he just another pawn in a different game?

A memory flashed in his mind—the Red Hand rebels, fighting for survival. Aurelia, standing beside him. The choice to resist.

Gabriel exhaled sharply.

"No," he said, stepping forward. "I am not the System's pawn."

The reflection's smirk faltered.

Gabriel reached out—and shattered the illusion.

Trial Completed

The burning city faded. The trial chamber reappeared.

Gabriel collapsed to one knee, breathing hard. The doors creaked open, revealing the waiting faces of the Red Hand. Some looked surprised. Others, impressed.

The Elder stepped forward. His expression remained unreadable.

"You survived," he said simply.

Gabriel forced himself to stand. "Was there ever a doubt?"

A slow smile crossed the Elder's face.

"…Perhaps not."

The younger rebels cheered. The older ones remained skeptical. But one thing was clear—Gabriel had proven himself.

And the Red Hand would now have to decide whether to stand with him…