When the Wild Remembers
Trial IV: The Realm of Beasts
The air didn't blow. It growled.
Matt stepped into a jungle sculpted from nightmares—where trees rose like titan's ribs, clawing into a thunder-black sky. Lightning flickered in unnatural colors. The ground was thick with ash, blood, and bones too large to name.
This was not nature.
This was instinct unbound.
Where mercy had no roots.
Where reason rotted.
Welcome to the Realm of Beasts—Trial IV.
The ground trembled beneath him, as if the world was holding its breath.
Then it came.
A roar.
Ancient. Feral. His name, broken into thunder.
> "Matt Salurga... predator or prey?"
The jungle tore open.
From the shadows, a form lunged—a blur of muscle and Voidlight, claws raking across the air like sirens.
And then Matt saw it.
Himself.
But wilder.
Stripped of restraint. Covered in obsidian fur like jagged armor, his spine bent like a beast mid-hunt, fangs dripping starlit venom, eyes pure survival.
The Wild Matt.
> "This is what you could have been," the creature growled, circling.
"Had you embraced the animal.
After Nyuga.
After you lost everything.
You'd never feel guilt again. Never weep. Never break."
Matt's heart clenched—but his blade stayed firm.
> "No pain. No doubt," the beast offered.
Matt narrowed his eyes.
> "No mercy. No meaning."
---
Combat Initiated: Matt vs. The Wild Within
They clashed like storms.
Claw met blade.
Fang met fire.
Wild Matt moved with chaotic precision—pure instinct, no hesitation. Every blow was primal. Perfect. Brutal.
Matt's sword cracked under the pressure. His defenses shattered. Blood hit the soil.
He stumbled. The beast stalked closer.
And then—he heard it.
Not a scream. Not a command.
A whisper.
Like wind through memory.
Like warmth in a frozen mind.
> "Matt... come home."
Mailane.
Her voice, not echoing from the trial—but from within. From him.
He remembered her touch. Her tears. Her strength.
The beast paused. Snarled.
> "You've changed," Wild Matt hissed. "She's softened you."
Matt rose, broken blade in hand.
> "No," he said, calm and clear. "She's grounded me."
---
He stopped fighting to win.
He started fighting to understand.
The blade dropped. He raised his hand—open. Unarmed.
> "You're not my enemy. You're me—the part that survived by forgetting who we are."
Matt stepped forward through teeth and fury and fire.
He touched the beast's chest, right above the heartbeat.
> "But you don't own me anymore."
Wild Matt shuddered—then howled. Not in rage.
In release.
He knelt.
The vines around them rose—like serpents of stone and root—twisting into a glowing emblem.
The Mark of Tamed Instinct.
The realm pulsed, then exhaled.
And the final door appeared—etched in fangs and feathers and silence.
---
Matt stepped forward.
His breathing was heavy. His soul heavier still.
Four trials. Four seals.
But what he carried now wasn't just power.
It was control. Identity. Will.
> "One more."
He passed through the gate.
The jungle faded into silence.
Ahead, black stone lined the sky.
Golden gates glowed like sunfire.
And a throne waited in shadow.