The air in the chamber was suffocating, thick with an unnatural stillness. Kael's feet echoed on the stone floor as he walked deeper into the darkened hall. The Beast Simulation had been a test of physical strength and agility, but this—this was different. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach, a deep unease that crawled up his spine. The Mental Endurance Test was about more than survival; it was about control. The question was simple, yet terrifying: How much of yourself can you hold onto when everything else is stripped away?
Kael's hand tightened around the spear's shaft, the cool steel a comforting weight against his palm. He'd never doubted its strength—its edge was sharp enough to slice through the toughest of hide—but it wasn't just the weapon's power that gave him a sense of security. His father's legacy lay hidden in the spear, a secret he had only discovered after his death. For years, the weapon had seemed like nothing more than a relic of his father's past, a symbol of his strength. But Kael had learned the truth: the spear had a power of its own, one that would only awaken at a time of desperate need.
"Focus," Kael whispered to himself as he took another step.
The chamber suddenly flickered to life. A bright, blinding light flashed from above, and Kael was momentarily disoriented. When the light dimmed, he found himself no longer standing in the arena-like hall but instead in a vast, empty void. The floor beneath him was a swirling mass of dark energy, and above him, the sky was alive with stars—too many to count. There was no ground to stand on, no walls to support him. It felt like he was falling, like his very being was being consumed by the infinite blackness.
Suddenly, a voice echoed around him. Low, deep, and unyielding.
"Welcome to the trial of your mind."
Kael's heart skipped a beat. The words weren't coming from any direction. It was as if they were seeping directly into his thoughts. He tried to respond, but his mouth felt dry, his tongue heavy. He couldn't speak.
The voice continued. "You are now in the realm where your fears, your doubts, your innermost secrets will be laid bare. Every memory you've ever had, every mistake you've ever made, will be used against you. There is no escape. The only way out is to face it all."
He stumbled backward, his breath shallow. The voice wasn't threatening—it was clinical, distant, like the examiner was reading from a script. But the weight of the words crashed into him, pulling him into an overwhelming sense of dread. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady himself. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. He had to stay calm.
Focus.
The air seemed to thicken, the darkness pressing in on him. And then, like an unwelcome visitor, the first memory struck.
He was a child again, standing in his father's workshop. Galen Strade had been a towering figure in his life—stoic, strong, a man of few words. But to Kael, he had been everything. The memory played out in vivid detail. The clang of metal on metal as Galen worked on his weapons, the faint smell of leather and oil filling the room. Kael watched, helpless, as his father's shadow loomed over him, his face unreadable.
"You're not ready," Galen had said, his voice cold. "You're not strong enough. You need more than training to survive in this world. You need conviction."
The memory shifted. Kael was no longer a child but a teenager, watching from a distance as his father left one night, never to return. The news of Galen's death had shattered him. But the truth of it—the real reason his father had been lost to the wilds, was still a mystery. Kael had never known what drove his father to leave, nor what kind of battles he had fought. The questions haunted him, but they were buried beneath a layer of anger and regret. Had his father failed him? Or had he failed his father by not being good enough?
Focus.
The voice broke through his thoughts again, the dark weight of the memory pressing in on him.
"Do you see? Do you see the doubt in your heart? The fear that your father abandoned you? You are not worthy of his legacy."
Kael's fists clenched. He couldn't let it consume him. His father had died for honor. Kael had seen it in his eyes before his last mission. Galen had chosen his path, just as Kael had chosen his. There was no room for doubt.
A shift in the darkness—his body reacted before his mind could follow. A figure appeared, a dark silhouette that was both familiar and alien. His father's face, twisted and contorted into a grotesque mockery of itself. Kael recoiled.
"You'll never live up to me," the figure hissed. "You're just a child pretending to be a man."
His heart thudded painfully in his chest, but Kael stood his ground. He wasn't a child anymore. He wasn't weak. This was a test—a trial—and he would not let it break him.
"I'm not you," Kael growled, his voice steady despite the cold panic threatening to consume him. "I'm my own man."
The figure flickered, its shape beginning to dissipate. The darkness that had been choking him receded, replaced by a fleeting sense of clarity. The mental trial had tested him, but Kael had found his center once again.
The voice returned, softer now, as if acknowledging his strength.
"You have passed. Proceed to the next trial."
Kael exhaled slowly, the weight of the trial lifting off his shoulders. His hands were still trembling, but his mind had endured. For now, he was still himself.
As the void melted away, the solid ground beneath his feet returned, and Kael found himself back in the arena, his heart racing, but his spirit intact. The Trial of the Ecliptine was next—the real test awaited.
But first, the spear's secret would reveal itself.