The day of the trial arrived with a weight that pressed against the air, suffocating and heavy. Fifty disciples stood gathered at the edge of the Crimson Veil War Sect, their faces set with determination or tinged with barely concealed fear. The trial of the Ashen Hollow was more than a competition—it was a crucible that burned away weakness and forged the strong.
Failure meant more than humiliation; it meant irrelevance.
Ravok stood apart from the crowd, his crimson eyes scanning his fellow competitors. He noted their body language, their gear, the nervous tapping of fingers against sword hilts. Some wore the masks of confidence, while others trembled visibly, their hands clutching charms or crude weapons like lifelines.
He smirked inwardly. Most of them don't even know they're already dead.
---
The Overseer's Speech
Instructor Faerin stood before the group, his stern visage illuminated by the pale morning light. His voice rang out, crisp and sharp, cutting through the low murmur of the disciples.
"The Ashen Hollow trial begins now. What lies ahead will test your body, mind, and willpower. The weak will fall. The reckless will die. Inside the Hollow, the rules are simple: there are no rules. Spirit stones, relics, and other treasures lie scattered throughout the ruins. Claim them if you can. Survive if you're able."
His eyes swept over the gathered disciples, lingering momentarily on Ravok. "Three days. That is all the time you have. At the end, only those with proof of their worth will advance. Remember, mercy is a weakness this trial will not forgive."
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken tension. The crowd shifted, energy buzzing like a storm about to break.
"Step forward when ready," Faerin said, turning toward the shimmering veil of mist that marked the Hollow's boundary. One by one, the disciples began to move, their forms swallowed by the eerie haze.
---
Arrival at the Ashen Hollow
When Ravok's turn came, he stepped into the mist without hesitation. The sensation was immediate and jarring—the air was cold, damp, and suffused with a strange hum, like a distant vibration just beneath the skin. The world beyond the mist unfolded like a nightmare.
The Ashen Hollow was a sprawling wasteland of jagged cliffs and ancient ruins, its crumbling structures jutting upward like broken teeth. Dark clouds swirled unnaturally above, casting fractured light over the terrain. The air felt alive, thick with unstable energy that made Ravok's skin prickle. A faint metallic tang lingered on his tongue.
In the distance, a tower stood half-shattered, its silhouette jagged against the swirling sky. To the west, a deep ravine carved its way through the ruins, while to the east, clusters of collapsed buildings lay in eerie silence.
Chaos disguises opportunity, Ravok thought. This place is a puzzle. And puzzles are meant to be solved.
---
The Trial Begins
Ravok crouched low, his movements fluid as he slipped into the shadows of a ruined wall. Unlike the others, who rushed forward with reckless abandon, he moved deliberately, his senses on high alert. The Hollow rewarded patience and punished haste—a lesson many here would learn too late.
---
A Calculated Encounter
As he navigated the ruins, Ravok's sharp eyes caught a faint glimmer embedded in the wall of a collapsed structure. Spirit stones. He approached cautiously, the silence around him feeling unnatural. The stones were lodged tightly in the cracked stone, their faint glow illuminating the jagged surface.
He pried the first one free, his fingers brushing against its smooth surface. Just as he reached for the second, a faint sound—a footstep—echoed behind him. Ravok froze, his grip tightening around the spirit stone.
"I'd leave those if I were you," came a voice, low and taunting.
Ravok turned slowly to see a wiry disciple step into view. The man's dagger glinted faintly, and his smirk carried the confidence of someone who had taken from others before.
"You've got sharp ears," the disciple said. "But that won't help you much. Hand over the stones, and I might let you limp out of here."
Ravok straightened, slipping the spirit stone into his pouch. His crimson eyes met the man's, unflinching. "These?" he said, his voice calm, almost bored. "I think I'll keep them."
The disciple's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he lunged, his dagger flashing toward Ravok's chest. But Ravok had already moved.
Sidestepping the attack with ease, he grabbed a shard of broken stone from the ground and drove it into the man's leg. The disciple let out a sharp cry, stumbling as blood dripped onto the cracked earth.
Ravok didn't stop. His hand lashed out, striking the man's wrist and sending the dagger clattering to the ground. In an instant, Ravok was on him, the jagged shard pressed against his throat.
"Fool," Ravok said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion. "You thought this would be easy. You didn't even consider the cost."
The man whimpered, his confidence shattered. "Please… don't…"
Ravok's gaze lingered for a moment before he released the pressure on the shard. "Run," he said. "And next time, choose your prey more carefully."
The disciple scrambled to his feet and fled, leaving behind his dagger and what little dignity he had left. Ravok pocketed the blade, his lips curling into a faint smile.
One less competitor.
---
An Unexpected Alliance
By nightfall, Ravok had taken shelter in the hollowed remains of a tower. The upper levels offered a clear vantage point over the surrounding ruins, while the enclosed space kept him hidden from prying eyes. He leaned against the cold stone, the faint hum of the Hollow's energy filling the silence.
A soft sound—barely more than a whisper—broke the quiet. Ravok turned, his hand instinctively moving toward the dagger at his belt. A familiar figure stepped into view, her movements fluid and deliberate.
"Lara," he said, his tone even. "I should've known you'd find me."
Lara Ironshade smirked, her twin daggers gleaming faintly in the dim light. "You're harder to track than I expected. Not bad for someone who used to be a laughingstock."
Ravok didn't rise to the bait. "What do you want?"
"A trade," she said, holding up a small pouch that jingled faintly. "I've got information. There's a relic cache deeper in the Hollow. High-value. Problem is, it's crawling with beasts."
"And you want me to help you," Ravok said, his voice flat.
"Why not? You're sharp, cautious. I'd rather split the spoils with you than deal with some overconfident brute."
Ravok studied her, his mind already working through the angles. Lara was capable and pragmatic, but trust was a currency he spent sparingly.
"Fine," he said at last. "But know this—if you cross me, I'll make you regret it."
Lara's smirk widened. "Fair enough. Three days, Kael. Let's make them count."