Satou followed the Warden through the winding, dark corridors of the castle, his mind spinning with questions. The Warden's heavy armor clanged with every step, but he moved with surprising speed for someone so heavily armored. Satou kept his eyes on the Warden's broad back, gripping the key in his hand, still unsure of what it was supposed to unlock or how it could help him.
The halls were lit by dim, flickering torches, casting long shadows that seemed to dance along the stone walls. Satou's heart pounded in his chest as he took in his surroundings. Everything about this place felt wrong—cold, menacing, and alive. The walls seemed to breathe, the air thick and oppressive, and Satou couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was waiting just ahead.
Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, they reached another set of doors. These were smaller than the massive entrance doors but still imposing, made of black stone with sharp, jagged edges. The Warden stopped in front of them and turned to face Satou.
"Your first task awaits beyond these doors," the Warden said, his voice deep and metallic. "Inside, you will face a trial. The King has given you power, but you must prove that you are worthy of it."
Satou's stomach turned. "What kind of trial?" he asked, his voice shaking.
The Warden tilted his head slightly, the red glow from his eyes flickering. "You will know soon enough. Survive, and you will understand."
Satou clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the key in his hand. The Warden made no move to open the door for him. It was clear that this was something Satou had to do on his own. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and pushed the heavy doors open.
The room beyond was vast and empty, lit only by a few torches along the walls. It was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made Satou's skin crawl. The stone floor was cracked and uneven, and in the center of the room stood a large stone altar. Satou's eyes were immediately drawn to it.
He stepped inside, the door slamming shut behind him with a loud bang. His heart jumped in his chest, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he walked toward the altar, each step echoing loudly in the empty room.
As he got closer, he saw something lying on the altar. A sword. It was simple, with a black blade that seemed to absorb the light around it. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, and it looked as if it had been sitting there for centuries, waiting.
Satou reached out cautiously and grabbed the hilt. The moment his hand touched it, a shock of energy shot up his arm, but it wasn't the painful surge he had felt when he took the key. This was different, almost familiar, as if the sword was recognizing him. He lifted it, feeling its weight—surprisingly light for such a large weapon.
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet trembled. Satou spun around, holding the sword defensively. The room began to change. The stone walls shifted, the floor cracking and splitting apart. From the shadows, a shape began to form—a figure emerging from the darkness.
It was massive, towering over Satou, its body made of shifting shadows and flames. Its eyes glowed red, just like the King's, and its mouth twisted into a snarl.
"Your trial begins now," a voice echoed through the room.
Satou's heart pounded in his chest. He tightened his grip on the sword, trying to calm his breathing. The creature took a step forward, its heavy footfall shaking the ground. Without warning, it lunged at Satou with incredible speed, its fiery claws slashing through the air.
Satou barely had time to react. He threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature's attack. The heat from its flames singed his clothes, and he could feel the burn on his skin. Gritting his teeth, he stood up, holding the sword in front of him.
The creature turned to face him again, its eyes locked on him with burning intensity. Satou's mind raced. He had no idea how to fight something like this. He wasn't a warrior; he wasn't even strong. But there was no escaping this trial.
The creature lunged again, and this time, Satou swung the sword with all his might. The blade met the creature's fiery arm, and to his surprise, the sword cut through the flames like they were solid. The creature let out a roar of pain, stumbling back.
Satou's eyes widened in shock. He had actually hurt it. The sword—this strange, dark weapon—was capable of cutting through the creature's fire.
The creature roared again, louder this time, and charged at Satou. Its massive form loomed over him, claws ready to tear him apart. But Satou didn't hesitate. He gripped the sword tighter and rushed forward to meet the creature head-on.
The next few moments were a blur of fire, shadows, and steel. Satou moved faster than he thought possible, dodging the creature's strikes and landing blows with the sword. Each hit sent sparks flying, and with every strike, the creature's fiery form grew weaker, its flames flickering like a dying fire.
Finally, with one last swing, Satou drove the sword deep into the creature's chest. It let out a deafening roar, its body collapsing into a pile of ash and smoke. The room fell silent, the only sound Satou's heavy breathing as he stood over the remains of the creature.
He stared down at the sword in his hand, still glowing faintly in the dim light. His heart was racing, his body trembling with exhaustion, but he had done it. He had survived.
The door behind him creaked open, and the Warden stepped inside.
"You have passed the trial," the Warden said, his voice emotionless. "The King will be pleased."
Satou didn't respond. He felt numb, his mind still reeling from the fight. He had never fought like that before, had never even held a sword, but somehow he had managed to defeat a creature of Hell.
The Warden walked past him, heading toward the altar. "Come," he said. "Your real task begins now."
Satou's legs felt like lead, but he followed. He had survived the trial, but deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.