Alastor and A were headed to the chief's house directly, since neither carried anything with them to put away.
Alastor looked at the simple wooden house, no different from the others, and wondered, 'Is this truly the house of the chief?'
A slammed the door opened and shouted, "Father! Your son has returned! And I bring with me Alastor of Stele!"
Hearing the commotion, a giant man even bigger than A walked out form behind the house.
He was wider than two men put together, and as tall as three.
His long, greying hair did not match his youthful vigour, with scars across his body.
He looked at A, and then Alastor, with curiosity.
He said to A, "You lost to this....small one?"
A replied, "Yes!"
'I'm not small, you're just a giant.' Alastor thought to himself.
The chief nodded and asked, "I see. You must have brought him here for the Ancestral Trial."
A nodded vigorously.
The chief waved his son aside and got him to leave the room, before he said to Alastor, "You. Why do you wish to take the Trial?"
Alastor thought for a moment and answered, "Because I was told it was a test for one who the tribe considers a warrior, so I considered it a way to prove myself. It serves my purpose of gaining strength as well. All power matters."
The chief's eyes widened at the honest answer, and he sank into contemplation.
"Before you can take the Trial, you must be aware of the dangers yes?"
Alastor was about to agree, but decided that the young A might not be the most verified source of information, and shook his head.
The chief answered, "Once you take the broth, you must climb that waterfall there, without using any of your energy. It will be needed. Without it, your chances of death are much higher."
Alastor sighed in exasperation, 'Of course he neglected to tell me that part. He probably didn't even notice the waterfall with his monstrous defence.'
The chief continued, "Then there is the danger of not being able to subdue your soul, but that differs from Warrior to Warrior."
"Once you take the broth, one of our past prospective warriors will guide you down the path to your soul. If you fail, you will become one of them."
Alastor nodded, "I understand. I am still willing to partake in it."
The chief then said, "Then, it is done. The tribe must always respect a fighter's wish to become a Warrior. We shall prepare the ritual for you."
Alastor was feeling a bit out of sorts.
'Where is the greed? The transactions? Are they just doing it for free?'
'No wonder A was so naive.'
He simply wasn't used to such an immaterialistic lifestyle, especially when he mostly made use of people's greed to control them.
The chief went behind the house once more, and picked up a large hammer from the ground.
'Well, I called it a hammer, but it's just a big rock attacked to a stick. Only the Book of Fate knows how old it is.'
The chief faced a big green bell made of jade, which looked small compared to him.
He swung the hammer at the bell, and a clear sound rang out, the bell not even moving from the blow.
Like a hivemind, the people of the city stopped at once, prayed to some unknown existence, and then continued with their life.
However, old men and women began arriving at the chief's house, dressed in shaman attire.
Wordlessly, they surrounded Alastor, staring at him unblinkingly as they began chanting.
The chief said over their chanting, "Follow them, and do not resist."
Alastor did so, as they herded him all the way to the base of the waterfall, and then had him remove his shirt.
Without stopping their chant, they began applying a thick green paste over Alastor's torso, in various mystical symbols, and Alastor was sure he even made out the Rune for Connect.
The chieftain arrived a while later, carrying a box with him.
From within the box, an old bowl made of rock was taken out, smoothed over the ages.
The broth was created then and there, as various herbs and plants were added into the bowl, and ritualistic signs were placed around it.
Alastor now knew it was worth the trip to arrive here. The only other times he had known of rituals being used, were during extremely high level Ascensions, High level Runework, Summoning, and extremely powerful moves.
The broth was completed, and it looked like a mesmerizing flame swirling around the bowl.
The chief reverently placed the bowl in front of Alastor.
Alastor knew what he had to do.
He felt his hand sizzle from the heat, as he picked up the bowl, and drank the whole thing in one gulp.
The chief and the shamans retreated, placed readymade movable walls around Alastor and left to go about their day, such situations being commonplace in their life.
Meanwhile, Alastor felt a burning pain in his body, mind, soul and Astral Form, even in his demonic side, as the flame from the broth spread into his entire existence.
From the broth, Alastor felt a familiar feeling.
'Where have I felt this before?'
Alastor remembered the manifestation of the pillar that Professor Aspen had summoned to test them.
'Yes, it's almost exactly the same feeling I got from it.'
Suddenly, Alastor saw a being who looked similar to A, beckon him forth, pointing where he needed to go before disappearing.
Alastor followed the path, and arrived where he needed to be.
'Is this a manifesatation of my soul?'
'How.....apt.'
At first, the floor seemed to be covered in lush grass, blooming red flowers, with joyful winds playing around the garden.
Until one noticed the dead and twisted, withered black tree in the center.
The area around the tree was completely devoid of life and colour. Even the soil turned grey and crumbled.
From the branches of the tree, various things that seemed unreal, hung and swayed.
A mouth which opened to spew lies and malice.
A brain which opened into a maw to devour all it could.
A bent and rusted spear.
A stone monolith that felt heavy.
A Rune inscribed into the trunk of the tree, constantly writhing and changing.
As Alastor took a step forward, he realized that within the seemingly beautiful grass, there were invisible razor sharp blades hidden amongst the stalks.
The red poppies were dripping blood from their petals.
And the wind carried the scent of despair and the sweet smell of decay.
'Hey now, I'm not this much of a downer either~'
'At least I have a proper sun in he-Oh.'
The 'Sun' that was emitting light in his soul, was a great Eye, staring down at all things equally.
'How depressing. I feel depressed.'
The soulscape did not change at all, indicating his words as a lie.
'So, I need to fight myself, don't I?'
Just as Alastor thought that, he saw another Alastor walk out from behind the tree.
"Hello there." They both spoke at once.
They looked at each other, and immediately began checking themselves to see what was different between them.
Alastor felt a bit annoyed as the other Alastor had perfectly done the same actions as him, down to the very twitch.
They had the same memories of this life, the same habits, the same demonic essence, and so on.
Alastor said, "I assume my life has been perfectly copied onto you."
The other Alastor said, "Maybe. But do you know of ☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐?"
As Alastor heard (or did not hear) the blank spaces being uttered, he twisted his head off and crushed it, killing himself.
The real Alastor finished chanting the Great Transmigration Mantra.
His opponent had killed himself the moment he realized he may not be the original.
'Now, as soon as this ends, I need to begin climbing the waterfall-'
A large thump was heard, as a shadow fell on Alastor.
He turned to see a mass of writhing and grasping arms, all trying to drag him in, clutching at everything they felt.
He leapt back onto the blackened tree and grabbed the bent and rusted spear, breaking it into half where it was bent.
The monstrous creature in front of him looked like a mass of endlessly grasping hands.
Greedy hands.
"So demons have to fight their Sin as well? This would be impossible for a regular demon. So unfair."
Alastor complained to himself as the battle for his soul began.