"The first trial? What is tha—"
Before Lucas could finish his sentence, the world shattered.
In an instant, both Lucas and Feather vanished.
They reappeared in a forest drowned in gray. Twisted trees stretched endlessly in every direction, their branches clawing at a sky choked with ash-colored clouds. The air was cold, heavy, and filled with a quiet despair that pressed against Lucas's chest. No birds sang. No wind comforted. The forest felt alive, and hostile.
"Where… where are we?" Lucas asked, his voice trembling.
Feather looked around calmly. "This is where your first trial will take place. The trial to master the First Eye."
He raised his finger and pointed upward.
"Your mission is simple," he continued. "Ascend to the peak of the Blood Mountain."
Lucas opened his mouth to speak, but Feather interrupted him.
"There are three things you must know."
Feather's voice grew serious.
"First. One year in this world is equal to five hours in the real world. Your body lies in a coma. You cannot wake up until this trial is completed."
Lucas swallowed.
"Second. The beasts that inhabit this land are extremely dangerous. To survive, you must choose a weapon."
With a wave of Feather's hand, seven weapons appeared before Lucas, hovering in the air.
A massive battle axe.A dark sword radiating malice.A white spear shining with cold purity.Twin daggers curved like fangs.Sacred gloves engraved with runes.A diamond bow shimmering faintly.And a heavy warhammer scarred by countless battles.
Lucas hesitated, then reached out and grasped the dark sword.
Feather raised an eyebrow. "Interesting choice. You have chosen the Sword of Hell. Are you truly sure?"
Lucas tightened his grip. "I don't know. But… a sword is the only weapon I know how to use."
Feather nodded slowly. "Very well."
The blade pulsed.
"You should know its nature," Feather said. "The Sword of Hell drains the life force of its prey. It can also be empowered for ten minutes by drinking the blood of its bearer."
Lucas's eyes widened slightly.
Feather stepped back. "I will leave my owl here to watch over you. My role ends now."
He turned away.
"Wait!" Lucas shouted.
Feather stopped. "What is it?"
"What's the third thing I should know?"
Feather paused, then smiled faintly.
"Oh… I almost forgot."
He looked Lucas straight in the eyes.
"You are now immortal. You cannot truly die here. However, every time you are killed, you will be sent back to this forest, no matter how far you have progressed."
The smile faded.
"So do not rely on it. Survive."
Feather stepped into the fog.
"Good luck, Lucas Jerom."
And then, he was gone.
Lucas stood calm. He did not panic.
With slow and steady steps, he forged his way toward the mountain. The gray forest watched him in silence as he moved forward, sword in hand, without hesitation.
Day after day, he fought.
And day after day, he died.
Each death dragged him back to the beginning of the forest, the memory of pain still burning in his mind. At first, the panic of dying crushed him. His breath would shake, his hands would tremble, and his heart would race every time he returned. But repetition hardened him. Fear slowly faded, replaced by determination.
Lucas kept moving.
No matter what creature stood in his path, he faced it. Beasts of shadow, twisted monsters, and crawling horrors fell beneath the Sword of Hell. He slashed without mercy, learning through battle, surviving longer each time. Time passed strangely in this world. His body aged. His face grew sharper. He was no longer the boy who had entered the trial.
He was fifteen when he reached the dragon.
It was a dark dragon, massive and brutal, its strength far beyond anything Lucas had faced before. Their battle was merciless. Lucas attacked again and again, but the dragon crushed him with ease. In one moment, its claws tore through his arm. His hand was severed.
Lucas cried out in pain.
But there was no time to mourn.
Blood poured from the wound. Without hesitation, Lucas pressed the Sword of Hell into his bleeding arm. The blade drank deeply. Too deeply. The dark power within it awakened, surging violently through his body.
Lucas fought on.
With each strike, the sword screamed with power. The dragon's scales shattered, its roars fading into silence. At last, Lucas severed its head, and the massive body collapsed to the ground.
Lucas stood still, covered in blood.
His eyes were no longer innocent.
They were the eyes of a soulless hunter.
And without looking back, Lucas turned toward the mountain and continued forward.