Chapter 25 - The Gate of Trial

Far above in the vast outside world, suspended in the stillness of the void, two figures watched the event unfold.

Silver leaned forward, arms resting over his knees, eyes locked on the swirling vortex far below. Avi stood beside him, her arms crossed, lips pressed in a thin line. Neither spoke at first.

They had seen countless warriors step into these gates before. Countless trials. Countless failures.

But this time was different.

He stepped in.

Sid.

Avi's body tensed the moment his foot disappeared into the vortex. Her usual calm cracked ever so slightly as her fingers dug into her sleeve. Her scarlet red eyes were fixed on the vortex as it slowly closed, as if willing it to stay open.

Silver noticed.

"He's must do this," he said softly. "You know that."

Avi didn't reply. Not yet. Her gaze remained fixed below, as if refusing to blink.

"The Trial," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "If he succeeds, he awakens. If he fails…"

She didn't finish the sentence. The weight of the moment filled the silence.

Silver leaned back slightly, his tone calm but grounded. "He won't."

She turned to him sharply.

"But this isn't just a normal trial. He's a Velcris."

Silver met her gaze, the usual crooked smile absent.

"Just like his Uncle's. A hellish version of his self."

"Stronger," she whispered. "Wicked and ruthless."

Her voice faltered briefly, then steadied.

"I hope he won't be reckless inside."

Silver looked away, watching the vortex flicker and fade from view. He exhaled slowly through his nose.

"This is his own path."

He glanced sideways. "And you know this too — if he succeeds, maybe we can find something about that incident. We know too well it was not coincidence."

Avi said nothing. Her arms dropped to her sides as she stared back at the emptiness.

All she could do now was wait.

The moment Sid stepped through the vortex, reality warped. There was no sound. No sensation. Just a flicker of weightlessness—then solid ground beneath his feet.

Darkness greeted him. Heavy and absolute.

As his eyes adjusted, the world around him slowly came into focus. A towering gate stood before him, silent and unmoving. It was vast—so impossibly tall that the top was swallowed by the shadows above. The surface was carved from stone so dark it seemed to absorb not only light, but presence itself. Lines and symbols pulsed across its surface like veins filled with slow-moving blood, etched in an ancient pattern that made the skin prickle to look at.

The structure didn't just dominate the space—it defined it. Everything else bent around it. All light. All silence. All weight.

Two enormous torches stood on either side of the gate. Their flames burned with violet and gold, crackling softly in the oppressive silence. They cast just enough glow to reveal the obsidian floor and the base of the gate.

There, seated in the center, was a man.

One knee raised, the other resting on the ground. One arm hung over the elevated knee, relaxed. The other hand rested lightly on the floor. He wasn't moving, yet every fiber of Sid's being tightened the moment he saw him.

It was him.

An exact replica.

Sid didn't need confirmation. He didn't need to approach. From the tilt of the chin to the familiar crease between the brows—it was perfect. It wasn't just copying him. It was wearing him. Every flaw, every nuance, every calculation.

But something was different.

The atmosphere around this version of him felt heavier. Sharper. There was no rage, no pride, no humanity behind its eyes. Only ruthless focus.

Sid narrowed his eyes.

So this was the trial.

No illusion. No beast. No ancient judge.

Just himself—stripped of all weakness. Remade into something absolute.

He took a single step forward, carefully testing the gravity of the realm. The replica didn't move. It simply stared at him from beneath the flickering shadows of the twin torches.

Seconds passed. Then more.

Neither made a move.

Then the replica rose.

It stood in a single motion—slow, effortless, without tension. The way a sword is lifted before the cut. Its gaze never left Sid.

And then it vanished.

Before Sid could react, a fist exploded against his jaw.

Pain cracked through his skull like a burst of thunder. His vision blurred. His body flew backwards, slamming into the gate wall behind him with a dull, echoing boom. Obsidian cracked behind his back as dust and stone scattered across the floor.

Sid collapsed to one knee, his breath ragged. Blood trickled from his mouth, warm and metallic.

But he didn't stay down.

He wiped his lip with the back of his hand, planted his foot, and stood again. Pain flared through his jaw and down his spine, but his eyes never left the figure ahead of him.

The replica stood exactly where it had started, arms relaxed at its sides.

Watching.

Then it smiled wickedly. So wicked that Sid felt a bad omen coming.