The Fading Memory
Five years had passed in the brutal twilight of the Divine Domain. The gravity had long since ceased to be an obstacle for Zoran, becoming a natural part of his relentless training regimen. He was Tier Three, Step Four, hard-muscled and silent, but the enemy he could not defeat lay in the fortress itself.
The golden light of the Stasis Field had begun to flicker erratically in the last few weeks. The crystalline remnants Zoran had woven into the Queen's chamber, which had stalled the Void's corruption for years, were finally losing their power. The chamber felt noticeably colder, and Eliana's breathing was shallow again. The Void was pressing in, overriding Zoran's desperate, youthful work.
Vorn, whose own exhaustion was a constant, rigid weight on his shoulders, had long since ceased pretending. He remained the vigilant sentinel, but his warrior strength was useless against a dying flame.
Zoran sat by his mother, polishing his bone sword, thinking about the next harsh training Vorn will throw at him.
Suddenly, Eliana's eyes opened, wide and focused, momentarily free of the haze that usually clouded her mind. "Zoran? Do you remember the gardens? The blue bells that rang when the wind blew through the palace walls?"
Zoran stopped polishing. He hadn't consciously thought of Solmir's gardens in years; he remembered only the ash and the terrifying silence of the Divine Realm.
"They were beautiful," he managed.
"That is the world you fight for, my love. Not for the gold, or the throne. But for the blue bells, and the sound of laughter." Her gaze drifted to the window, where the bruised purple sky pressed close. A single, crystalline tear tracked down her temple. "I am afraid, Zoran. Not of dying, but of you forgetting the gentle things. This realm... it is changing you, hardening you too fast."
Zoran quickly smoothed the blanket, his own guilt heavy. He looked like a killer now, lean and severe. "It is making me strong, Mother. Strong enough to protect the last gentle thing left."
He grasped her hand, but the warmth of Solmir was already fading from her touch.
The Goddess's Trial
The boy was gone.
In his place stood a young man of seventeen, moving across the jagged cliffs of the third sky with the grace of a predator. He was in his element now, not sitting in silence but stalking prey.
Zoran's ash-blonde hair whipped in the wind. In his hand, he held a Stariron bone blade, forged by Vorn from the wreckage of the ruins—a reliable, temporary sword until he could forge his own.
Below him, the Celestial Beast Grounds churned with mist. A roar split the air—a Thunderclaw Lynx.
"Rank B," Zoran muttered, classifying the threat instantly. "High voltage. Weakness: underbelly."
The beast lunged, a blur of lightning and claws.
Zoran didn't panic. He moved. Flowing Steps of Aethas. He blurred, appearing behind the beast. His blade hummed with Aether, slicing clean through the creature's neck before the thunder could even clap.
He sheathed his sword as the monster disintegrated into motes of light.
"Too easy," he whispered. He wiped sweat from his brow, but his hands were steady. He had mastered the basics. He could hunt. He could survive.
But deep down, he knew it wasn't enough. To kill a God, he needed more than survival instincts. That night, the call finally came.
He awoke not in his bed, but in a void of liquid starlight. The ground rippled like water beneath his boots, and the sky was a mirror reflecting infinite versions of himself.
"Zoran of Terra," a voice echoed, vibrating in his marrow. "I am Seraphine. You have honed your body. Now, we must forge your soul."
The mirrors shattered. The shards swirled, coalescing into three distinct figures. They were Zoran, but twisted.
"To wield the Celestial Heart," the Goddess intoned, "you must conquer the aspects that define a King. Fear. Ambition. Rage."
The First Aspect: FEAR
The first figure stepped forward. It wasn't a warrior. It was Zoran as a child—small, trembling, clutching the invisible memory of his mother's dress.
Zoran stepped forward to comfort it, but the moment he got close, the air turned to ice.
SCREAM.
A psychic scream ripped through Zoran's mind. He fell to his knees, clutching his head. He wasn't in the void anymore; he was back in the Throne Room. He smelled the burning stone. He saw his father die. He felt the crushing, paralyzing terror of being ten years old and helpless.
The child-figure didn't attack with a sword. It attacked with paralysis.
You are weak, the Fear whispered. If you fight, you will die just like him. Stay down. Hide.
Zoran's limbs locked up. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. This wasn't just a memory; it was a weaponized assault on his nervous system.
"I... am not... him," Zoran gasped, forcing his head up against the psychic weight.
He realized he couldn't make the fear go away. Fear was biology. It was survival.
"I am afraid," Zoran admitted, his voice shaking. The pressure increased. "But I will not freeze!"
He forced his body to move, fighting his own instincts. He lunged at the child—not to hurt him, but to embrace him. He absorbed the shivering figure into his chest.
ABILITY UNLOCKED: CELESTIAL INSTINCT.Fear is no longer a cage. It is a radar.
The paralysis vanished, replaced by a hyper-awareness. Zoran could feel the shift in the air before it happened. He breathed heavily, sweat dripping from his nose. One down.
The Second Aspect: AMBITION
The second figure stepped forward. This Zoran wore a crown of blinding gold and armor that looked too heavy for a human to wear.
"Fear keeps you alive," the Golden Zoran said, his voice booming with supernatural authority. "But it does not build kingdoms. I do."
The figure didn't draw a weapon. He simply looked at Zoran and commanded.
"Kneel."
Gravity magnified a hundredfold. Zoran was slammed face-first into the starlight floor. His bones creaked. It wasn't magic; it was sheer, overwhelming Will.
"You want to save your mother?" Ambition sneered, walking closer, his boots crunching on the light. "You want to reclaim Terra? You need to be a tyrant, Zoran. You need to crush everything that stands in your way. Give in. Let me take the wheel, and we will rule the Divine Realm."
The temptation was sweet. It would be so easy to just command the world to obey.
Zoran groaned, pushing himself up on trembling arms. His nose bled, dripping onto the floor.
"A King..." Zoran gritted out, fighting the crushing aura, "...does not rule to be served. He serves!"
He focused his own will. He didn't want power for power's sake. He wanted power to protect.
Zoran pushed back. He stood up, his knees popping, defying the gravity of the Golden Zoran. He walked forward, step by agonizing step, until he stood face-to-face with Ambition.
"I will bear the weight," Zoran snarled. "But I will never wear the chains."
He punched the Golden Zoran in the chest. The figure shattered into golden dust, rushing into Zoran's skin.
ABILITY UNLOCKED: KING'S AURA.The weight of your will can now crush the weak.
The Final Aspect: RAGE
"Impressive," a guttural voice growled.
The third figure didn't wait.
BOOM.
Zoran was launched backward, skidding fifty feet across the void. He gasped, coughing up blood. His chest plate was dented.
Standing there was the third Zoran. He was covered in shifting red and black markings. His eyes were voids of pure, unadulterated fury. He held a sword made of jagged, bleeding energy.
"You accepted Fear," Rage spat, pacing like a tiger. "You disciplined Ambition. But me? You've been burying me for five years. You smile. You train. You listen to Vorn."
The Rage-Zoran vanished.
Too fast. Even with his new Instinct, Zoran barely got his sword up.
CRACK!
The crimson energy met the Stariron blade. The metal screamed, fracturing into a dozen molten pieces. The impact drove Zoran into the ground. Rage grabbed Zoran by the throat and slammed him down again.
"You watched your father die!" Rage screamed, punching Zoran in the face. Crack. "You let them take your home!" Crack. "You are weak because you are calm! Get angry!"
Zoran tried to use his technique—the Flowing Steps—but Rage caught him mid-air and threw him like a ragdoll.
This wasn't a trial. It was a massacre.
Zoran lay on the ground, his vision swimming. He couldn't beat this thing with technique. Vorn's lessons on discipline were useless here. This monster was pure power.
"Die, then," Rage roared, raising the jagged sword for a killing blow.
Zoran looked at the blade. He thought of Kareth. He thought of the Legions. He thought of his mother fading away in that bed.
A spark ignited in his belly. It wasn't the warm gold of the Goddess. It was hot. It was violent.
"You're right," Zoran whispered.
Rage paused.
Zoran's hand shot out, catching the energy blade. It burned his palm, sizzling his flesh, but he didn't let go. He squeezed, his eyes turning a terrifying shade of crimson-gold.
"I am angry," Zoran hissed.
He let the dam break. Five years of politeness, five years of "Yes, Vorn," five years of hiding his trauma—he let it all go.
A shockwave of red energy exploded from Zoran, knocking Rage back.
Zoran stood up. He didn't look like a knight anymore. He looked like a demon. His Aether flared wildly, uncontrolled, destructive.
He didn't use a sword. He tackled Rage. They rolled across the void, trading blows that shook the dimension. Zoran didn't block. He took the hits so he could give them back harder. He fought with teeth and nails and raw hate.
Finally, Zoran pinned the Rage figure down, his hand wrapped around its throat.
"I own you," Zoran snarled, his voice layered with a demonic echo. "You are my power. You are my dog. And you heel when I say heel."
The Rage figure grinned through bloody teeth. "Good."
It exploded into red fire, flowing straight into Zoran's heart.
The pain was blinding. Zoran arched his back, screaming as the Celestial Heart forged itself in his chest. It wasn't just a battery of light anymore. It was a swirling vortex of Gold (Ambition), Blue (Instinct), and a terrifying, unstable Red (Rage).
The Aftermath
The void faded.
Zoran gasped, waking up on the grass of the Divine Realm.
It was dawn. Vorn was standing over him, looking concerned.
"Zoran?" Vorn asked. "You were... screaming."
Zoran sat up. He felt different. He felt heavier, yet faster. He looked at his hand. He summoned a small ball of light. It flickered gold, then snapped with a violent arc of red lightning that scorched the grass.
Zoran clenched his fist, extinguishing the unstable power. He looked up at Vorn, his eyes older, darker than they had been yesterday.
"I'm ready," Zoran said. His voice carried a weight that made Vorn instinctively straighten his posture.
"The Goddess?" Vorn asked.
"She didn't give me a gift, Vorn," Zoran stood up, the air around him vibrating with suppressed power. "She gave me a burden. And I learned how to carry it."