Akira awoke to the heavy scent of damp stone and an eerie silence, the kind that made your skin crawl. His first thought was that he'd been kidnapped, but when he blinked, he realized something worse: the world around him wasn't normal. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, and the air felt... thick. Great. I'm either in some creepy otherworld or a very committed art installation.
"Rise and shine, boy," a voice croaked, dragging his attention forward. Out of the shadows shuffled an old man, bald as an egg with a beard that could house a small bird. His eyes were worse—black sclera with glowing red pupils, like a poorly thought-out cosplay.
The man's face split into a grin. "Tell me your real name," he demanded, his voice low and grating, like the prelude to a villainous monologue.
Akira stared, blinking. "Real name? What is this, a password reset? No thanks." He instinctively stepped back, but the man's grin only widened.
Suddenly, the air felt like a thousand anvils were stacked on his back. Gravity crushed him to his knees with all the subtlety of a dump truck. "I don't want to die!" Akira thought, panic swirling as his bones creaked like an old ship.
"I'm not telling you my name!" he roared, the last ounce of defiance squeezing through his terror. It wasn't courage so much as a complete inability to think of anything better.
The old man leaned back and laughed like a guy who'd just watched someone trip over their own shoelaces. With a dismissive wave, the crushing weight disappeared, leaving Akira gasping on the floor.
"Feisty," the man muttered, clapping his hands. Lights flickered on, revealing the room: a cavernous hall filled with unsettling statues—horses with fangs, serpents with wings, and one particularly ugly thing that looked like a lizard crossed with a fax machine.
"Welcome to the Temple of Shadows," the man announced with flair, like Akira had just won a game show.
"Where am I?" Akira asked, already regretting it.
The old man's smile grew mischievous. "Inside the book."
"Oh, cool," Akira muttered. "I love cryptic nonsense."
"Send me back to heaven!" Akira blurted out, hoping to steer this fever dream in a less nightmarish direction.
The old man's grin faltered. "Heaven?!" he barked, before smacking Akira with a punch so fast it felt like his face had been rearranged. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt. Akira touched his nose, perplexed.
"How come I don't feel pain?" he asked, half-worried, half-relieved.
The man smirked. "Because you're in the temple, dummy. Physics takes a vacation here. Now, focus—we've got dark gods and destiny stuff to discuss."
"Why me?" Akira demanded. "Did you run out of volunteers?"
"Your desires called out to the God of Shadows," the man explained with dramatic flair. "Now, don't get your socks in a twist; you can use the power however you want. But fair warning—tick off the god, and you'll end up like one of those." He pointed at the statues. Akira's gaze lingered on the fax machine lizard.
"Cool, cool," Akira said. "So, what if I can't use mana? I'm cursed or something."
The man squinted at him. "You're cursed, all right. But in here, curses are features, not bugs." With a snap of his fingers, they were suddenly standing in a field that stretched endlessly. Akira felt the wind and thought, Great. Fresh air. Finally something normal.
"Kill those goblins," the old man said, pointing.
Akira turned to see a group of creatures lumbering toward him—three-armed, green monstrosities with heads the size of watermelons and a combined dental plan of nope. "Yeah, no thanks," Akira muttered and bolted.
He got about ten steps before one hurled a dagger that lodged itself in his stomach. He gasped, dropping like a sack of potatoes. Pain bloomed as the goblins pounced.
"Worst. Day. Ever," he thought as their claws tore into him.
And then—he woke up. Whole. Unharmed. But very much watching his corpse get ripped apart.
"You can't die here," the old man's voice echoed in his head. "You'll feel every second of it until you learn."
"Learn what?!" Akira shouted, but the goblins were already back. Thus began the worst montage of his life—dying, reviving, and dying again in increasingly awful ways. At one point, he was stabbed with his own femur.
Eventually, rage overtook fear. Lying beneath a pile of his own corpses, Akira's eye twitched. When a goblin wandered close, he sprang like a vengeful cat, tackling the creature. Ignoring the dagger in his gut, he strangled it with shaky hands.
When it finally stopped moving, Akira sat back, trembling, and let out a laugh—half relief, half manic breakdown.
"About time," the old man muttered from afar, watching Akira pick up a goblin sword.
With each death, Akira grew sharper. He learned their patterns, exploited their weaknesses, and eventually started enjoying the combat. The turning point came when he channeled mana for the first time electricity crackling along his blade as he decapitated a goblin.
"Oh, I'm awesome," Akira muttered, grinning as he watched his enemies disintegrate.
The old man smirked. "This boy's got promise."
Reborn once more, Akira felt a surge of energy. Mana coursed through his body, electrifying his nerves. As pain and power intertwined, he smiled. He had awakened his abilities.
Infusing his sword with mana, Akira moved with blinding speed, decapitating the goblins. His thirst for combat grew insatiable, an inner darkness urging him forward.
The old man observed from afar, pride gleaming in his red eyes. "This boy is extraordinary," he murmured.
The old man summoned ogres and more goblins. Akira, instead of charging recklessly, analyzed their weaknesses. He exploited the ogres' sluggishness, dodging their attacks and delivering precise blows to their necks.
Repeated exposure to goblin poison rendered Akira immune, while constant battle sharpened his reflexes. He discovered a latent affinity for elemental magic ice, fire, wind, and water and awakened his aura, further enhancing his abilities.
Two months passed in the illusionary realm. Akira had transformed into a skilled warrior, capable of strategic combat and diverse magic.
When Akira was summoned back to the temple, the old man greeted him warmly.
"You've grown immensely," the old man said. "Your determination is truly astounding."
"Thank you," Akira replied. "I couldn't have done it without your guidance."
The old man revealed that though two months had passed in training, only two hours had elapsed in the real world. He instructed Akira to travel to Skull Head Mountain and subjugate a sealed guardian.
As Akira's soul returned to his 10-year-old body, the maid and doctor rushed to his side. Their concern was palpable as they tended to him, ensuring his recovery.
Akira's mind, however, was elsewhere. The knowledge and power he had gained burned within him, and his resolve to complete his mission and claim his destiny had never been stronger.