"It doesn't count if you're already planning your defeat."
The words of his grandfather as he passed on echoed like a steady drumbeat in Emern's mind. It was the only memory that stayed clear. A once lazy student, barely scraping by with humble B's, suddenly became the talk of the academy. Teachers who once dismissed him as just another average senior were astounded as the quiet boy's intellect bloomed, overshadowing even the top talents of the class.
He no longer spoke to friends, no longer wasted his time in idle chatter or meaningless escapades. Instead, his path was one of cold isolation, visiting the graveyard every evening, talking to the only person who still seemed to matter. His grandfather. Emern had lost his parents to a shootout when he was still young, leaving him with nothing but a cramped apartment and an old book his father had passed down. It was almost laughable how small his chances were at making a living in the world.
Yet, with his talents exposed, Emern knew no matter where he went, he would have a future. Perhaps even one greater than his teachers could ever dream of. He excelled, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to—like a fire burning just enough to keep the cold away.
The principal's voice brought him back to the present.
"Emern Brown, please come up to the stage for your award."
A flicker of excitement cracked through the principal's voice, but Emern's face remained cold, devoid of emotion. He stood and made his way to the stage. His posture oozed indifference, his steps slow, almost uncaring. He held the award with one hand, like it was just another piece of trash, and as his eyes scanned the audience, frost seemed to spread across his gaze.
The envious stares of his classmates meant nothing. The cheers were hollow. He didn't see them, not really. All he saw was the towering graveyard, its headstones like skyscrapers piercing the clouds, casting long shadows across the earth.
The principal studied Emern's face, noticing a brief flicker of emotion before it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Emern exhaled softly, but his thoughts were elsewhere, circling in his head like vultures.
'I wish I could prove something to myself, but nothing fits me. Everything feels predetermined. Even my death. Fate's just waiting to claim me, like it did with them.'
His sorrow ran deep, gnawing at the edges of his resolve, but the rumbling of the ground snapped him back to reality.
A low, ominous tremor rattled the auditorium, at first barely noticeable, then building. Others started to shift in their seats as the vibrations grew stronger, but it was too late.
BOOM.
A deafening crash echoed through the room as the ceiling buckled under the weight of a gigantic, golden palm. Time seemed to slow as the massive hand struck, its golden surface shimmering with an otherworldly glow. Emern's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at the celestial appendage. It was beautiful, yet terrifying, as if a piece of heaven itself had descended with brutal force.
There was no time to scream. His body tensed, waiting for a moment to fight back, but it never came. The golden hand crushed them all. Emern, his classmates, the principal—everyone within the room disappeared, not in a bloody mess but in a soft burst of petals, scattering into the air as the hand retreated just as swiftly as it had arrived.
Emern opened his eyes to darkness. The weight of the hand, the auditorium, the world he knew—it was gone. The only other presence was a figure standing before him. Their golden eyes glowed faintly in the void, intricate markings swirling across their irises.
The figure's skin was the color of rich earth, and they wore a simple robe that seemed to bend the shadows around them, rearranging the darkness itself. Without a word, they raised their fist and slammed it into Emern's face with such force that it rattled his very soul.
When he blinked again, he found himself standing on a vast grassland. There were no trees, no mountains, just an expanse of green stretching into the horizon. But something was off—there was no sun. Yet, somehow, the light of evening lingered, casting long shadows on the ground.
Others stood nearby, just as confused as he was.
"W-Where's the sun?" one boy stammered, pointing up at the empty sky.
Emern's heart raced, disbelief flickering in his chest. He had always believed in the supernatural, in gods, but not like this. Not in a way that made him feel small and insignificant. Yet, here he was, trapped in some strange place that defied all logic.
A panel appeared before them, flickering with glowing words:
& Welcome to the Test. The winners of this war will be given one Talent. &
Emern stared at the panel, absorbing the words with a strange calm. It felt like something out of the webnovels his old friends used to talk about. But there were no friends left to share this with. He had left them behind, and now, he was alone.
The panel blinked again, this time with a new message:
& Select your Skill. &
Thousands of options filled the screen, each more fantastical than the last. He scrolled, almost mechanically, until one name caught his eye.
& Soul Reversal. &
& Soul Reversal allows the user to manipulate the soul of an enemy. This can stun or damage the target, as well as give the user mastery of martial arts and insight into the opponent's movements. With greater mastery, you may even bend the soul for other purposes. A SKILL MASCOT is associated with this ability. &
Emern selected the skill without hesitation. There was no time for second-guessing, no time to wonder if this was real or if he'd wake up back in his apartment.
The panel flickered one last time.
& The test begins now. &
Suddenly, chaos erupted. His allies surged forward into combat, their confusion quickly giving way to panic. Above the distant mountains, a figure rose into the sky, unleashing torrents of blue flames that rained down upon the battlefield. Another fighter seemed to be empowering the flames, boosting their strength with some kind of ability.
Emern watched, heart pounding as some of his allies fell in the fiery onslaught.
"Everyone!" he called out, his voice sharp.
The others turned to him, their faces pale with fear.
"Take her down, now! Don't bother with the mountains! Speed-based skills, flank around!"
They fell into formation, following his orders. Emern nodded, satisfied, before a familiar presence caught his attention.
Someone crept up behind him.
Emern spun, fists raised, and dashed forward. His hand grabbed the attacker's arm, jerking them off balance, before he struck with a one-handed blow to the gut. The figure staggered back, and as the dust settled, Emern's eyes widened.
"Emai?"
Dressed in sleek, battle-worn armor, was his old rival. Her black hair faded into red at the tips, and her piercing green eyes locked onto his. Despite everything that had happened, her presence was... unsettling. Not because she was powerful, but because it was as if fate had brought her here for a final clash.
Her lips curled into a smirk. "Dragon's Flame!" Her fist ignited with red flames, and Emern knew this was a dangerous game.
This isn't the end, he thought. Not yet... but one day...
He lunged at her, eyes shut, feeling the flow of her soul. He couldn't let this fight drag on. When his eyes opened again, he struck with all his strength, sending her flying into the air. But even as their battle raged, a cold truth lingered in the back of his mind.
He knew they would meet again. But next time, it wouldn't be like this.
Next time... Emai wouldn't walk away.