Chapter 13: The Gilded Cage
The day of the Ascension Trials dawned with an artificial sun. The Sanctum of the First Dawn hung in the sky, its crystalline structure refracting the morning light into a dazzling, oppressive glare. A massive, shimmering portal had opened in the city's central plaza, and a river of hunters in gleaming armor and enchanted robes flowed towards it. The air crackled with a mixture of excitement, fear, and competitive fervor.
From the shadows of a nearby rooftop, I watched. I was clad in a simple, dark, non-descript combat suit, my Veil of the Nameless God active. The smooth, white mask was a comfort, my true face hidden from the world. I had no Guild insignia. I was a ghost entering a stadium of legends.
I saw Kaelen. He stood with his Ironheart squad at the forefront of the crowd, a figure of resolute authority. His armor was polished, his greatsword resting on his shoulder. He looked every bit the promising leader the city needed. He didn't glance at the shadows. His focus was absolute, his gaze fixed on the portal. He was done looking for phantoms; he was ready to conquer reality.
A deep, resonant chime echoed from the Sanctum, silencing the crowd.
"Ascension Trials: Commencing."
"All participants, enter the gateway. The rules are simple: Survive. Ascend."
The river of hunters surged forward. I waited until the last possible moment, then used Shadow Stride to glide down, merging into the tail end of the crowd as we passed through the shimmering veil.
The transition was instantaneous and disorienting. The noise of the city vanished, replaced by an immense, cathedral-like silence. We stood in a vast, circular chamber of white marble and gold. The ceiling was so high it was lost in a soft, glowing mist. In the center of the chamber, a colossal, floating crystal pulsed with a gentle light.
"Welcome, Aspirants," a neutral, system-generated voice boomed, emanating from the crystal. "The First Trial: The Gauntlet of Mirrors. Proceed through the designated gate. Your performance is being evaluated."
A section of the wall slid away, revealing a long, straight corridor that seemed to stretch into infinity, its walls, floor, and ceiling made of polished, reflective metal.
The hunters, thousands of them, hesitated for a moment before a competitive roar went up, and they charged. It was a stampede. Kaelen's squad moved as a cohesive unit, a turtle formation with the shield-bearer at the front, cutting a path through the chaos.
I held back, observing. Something was off. The system said "evaluate," but this felt like a cattle chute. I activated Dungeon Walker, trying to get a sense of the space. The feedback was strange, muffled. The Sanctum was a closed system, its dimensions warped. I could feel the exits, but I couldn't teleport to them. We were in a gilded cage.
I entered the Gauntlet. The moment I did, the reflections in the walls shifted. They didn't show my masked form. They showed versions of me—Aiden Vance, in his wheelchair, looking frail and helpless. They whispered, not with sound, but directly into my mind.
"You don't belong here."
"He hates you."
"You're a liar. A fraud."
It was a psychic attack, tailored to the individual. Around me, other hunters faltered. Some screamed at their reflections, others attacked the walls in a frenzy, their weapons screeching against the unbreakable metal. I saw a burly warrior weeping, his reflection showing him cowering before a monster that had slain his partner.
I closed my eyes, relying on my other senses. World Tree's Blessing flared, the mental assault washing against the immovable rock of my EX-tier passive. The whispers became distant, meaningless static. I opened my eyes and ran, my Shadow Stride making me a blur, untouched by the psychological warfare that was crippling others.
I passed dozens of hunters trapped in their personal hells. I saw Kaelen. His reflection showed him not as a hero, but as a failure—standing over my lifeless, un-healed body, a look of utter despair on his face. He stood frozen, his knuckles white on his sword, his team looking at him with concern.
For a heart-stopping second, I thought to stop. To help him. But that would be the worst thing I could do. He had to break free on his own. With a grimace, I pushed past.
At the end of the Gauntlet, a new notification appeared for me, hidden from the rest.
[ First Trial: The Gauntlet of Mirrors - Completed. ]
[ Evaluation: S-Rank. Mental Fortitude: Maximum. ]
[ Reward: 50,000 Experience. ]
The experience was immense. A warm, powerful surge flooded my system.
[ Level Up! You are now Level 38. ]
[ +3 Free Stat Points. ]
I was in a new chamber, one of the first to arrive. A handful of other elite hunters were there, looking shaken but resolute. I allocated the points silently. 2 to Stamina, 1 to Agility. The endless corridor had been a test of endurance as much as mind.
Minutes later, Kaelen and his squad stumbled out, among the next wave. He looked pale, but his eyes were clear, burning with a hard-won determination. He had conquered his demon. He didn't look at me, the masked loner. His gaze was already on the next challenge.
The system voice boomed again. "The Second Trial: The Primal Menagerie. Hunt or be hunted."
The floor dissolved, and we were dropped into a vast, alien jungle. The air was thick and humid, filled with the roars of unseen beasts. This was a straight combat trial. Monsters, from swarms of razor-winged insects to a towering Jungle Behemoth, Level 65, began to spawn relentlessly.
This was my element.
I became death itself. I didn't fight for glory or points. I fought with an efficiency born of countless hours in the dark. Shadow Bind immobilized a pack of panther-like stalkers. Umbral Blade Dance became a harvesting tool, cutting through monster lines. I used the environment, merging with the deep shadows of the colossal trees, appearing only to deliver a killing blow before vanishing again.
I kept a part of my awareness on Kaelen. His team was magnificent. They worked like a well-oiled machine, his tactical commands sharp and effective. He used his Lightning Rush to draw the Behemoth's aggression, leading it into traps laid by his mage. He was no longer just a talent; he was a commander.
The experience was a flood. Monsters fell by the dozen.
[ Level Up! You are now Level 39. ]
[ +3 Free Stat Points. ] -> Allocated to Stamina.
The trial seemed to go on for hours. When the last monster fell, a wave of exhaustion hit even me. Less than a third of the original participants remained in the jungle. We were the elite, the survivors.
As we stood there panting, the system reward came.
[ Second Trial: The Primal Menagerie - Completed. ]
[ Evaluation: SS-Rank. Combat Efficiency: Maximum. ]
[ Reward: 100,000 Experience. Unique Skill Shard: [Echoing Step]. ]
Another massive wave of experience hit me, but my focus was on the skill shard—a fragment of crystallized knowledge that floated before me. I absorbed it.
[ New Skill Learned: Echoing Step (A). ]
[ Effect: Leave behind a temporary afterimage after a quick movement. The afterimage can draw enemy aggression. Cooldown: 15 seconds. ]
It was a perfect addition to my kit, a fantastic tool for misdirection. I looked around. Other hunters were receiving different rewards—new weapons, armor, powerful consumables. The Sanctum was enriching us, making us stronger, more powerful.
That was the moment the cold dread returned, sharper than ever.
We were being fattened for the slaughter.
The system voice returned, but this time, there was a subtle, cruel edge to its neutrality.
"Final Trial: The Pinnacle Arena. The strong shall claim their birthright. The weak shall be culled."
The jungle vanished. We stood in a colossal, open-air arena at the very peak of the Sanctum, the artificial sky stretching above us. In the center of the arena rested a single, glowing pedestal. On it sat a crown woven from light and shadow.
"Only one may claim the ultimate prize. There are no rules. Ascend."
The silence in the arena was broken by the sharp sound of steel being drawn. Hundreds of exhausted, empowered, and ambitious hunters stared at each other, then at the crown. The final trial wasn't against monsters. It was against each other.
The gilded cage had just been locked, and the bait was set. The puppeteer was forcing us to tear each other apart. I saw Kaelen look at the crown, then at his team, his face a mask of conflict. I saw the greed in the eyes of other Guild leaders.
This was the trap. And we had all walked right into it.
As the first spell lit up the arena, I melted into the shadows, my mind racing. I couldn't just win. I had to break the game. The real Trial had just begun.