The world around them shifted again, but this time, it wasn't the endless void of darkness. Instead, they found themselves standing at the edge of a vast battlefield. The ground was scorched, littered with broken weapons, fallen soldiers, and the remnants of a long-forgotten war.
This time, there were no illusions. No tricks of the mind. It was a test of their resolve, of their ability to command the strength needed to carry the weight of the Nine Worlds.
The ground beneath their feet rumbled as figures began to emerge from the shadows. These weren't shadows they were real soldiers, warriors from forgotten battles, their eyes vacant, their bodies rotting. They moved with purpose, as though they were bound to the battlefield, fighting eternally.
Orin's heart sank as he saw them. These were the dead soldiers who had fallen long ago, doomed to fight forever.
"They're not real," Kai muttered, his face grim. "We're not here to fight them, are we?"
Aurelius' voice rang out once again, his tone laced with seriousness. "No. You're here to lead them. To show me that you have the strength to command, to inspire, and to fight when all hope seems lost. If you can't do that, then the world has no place for you."
Orin's grip tightened around his sword. This wasn't just a battle for survival. It was a test of leadership a test to see if he could inspire others to rise, even in the face of impossible odds.
The battlefield was their canvas, and it was time to paint their victory.