The camp was still, the morning air crisp with the scent of pine and wet earth. Zenith sat near the fire, the embers casting flickering shadows on his face. His mind was heavy with the events of the previous night. Saphira's warning echoed in his thoughts, a constant hum in the back of his mind. The monster, the war… it all felt so far beyond him, yet so impossibly close.
He had barely taken a bite of his dried meat when the air changed.
A cold wind swept through the clearing, unnatural and sharp, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Zenith froze, the hairs on his arms rising as the temperature dropped. The birds fell silent. Even the crackling fire seemed to stutter for a moment, as if afraid of what was coming.
The sound of footfalls broke the stillness, but they were no ordinary steps. These were measured, purposeful. As if something—or someone—was closing in, not just on the camp, but on him. Zenith's heart began to race. His instincts screamed that this was not a mere traveler or wandering creature. This was something else entirely.
He stood quickly, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword, but the blade felt too heavy in his hand. His powers still simmered faintly inside him, but they were not ready. Not yet.
Then, they appeared.
Five figures emerged from the treeline, their movements impossibly fluid, like shadows flickering across the ground. They were humanoid, but there was something distinctly otherworldly about them. Their skin shimmered in hues of silver and deep blue, reflecting the faint light of the morning sun as though it were an object, not flesh. Their eyes glowed—not with warmth, but with a cold, merciless fire, burning like the heart of a distant star.
Zenith's breath caught in his throat. He could feel their presence, a palpable force that crushed the air around them. These weren't just beings from another land—these were creatures from another world.
The leader, a tall figure with sharp, angular features, stepped forward. Their voice was deep, resonating like a drumbeat. "Zenith," they said, their tone calm, but carrying the weight of inevitability. "We have come for you."
The words seemed to hang in the air, thick with foreboding. Zenith's blood ran cold.
"What do you want?" Zenith demanded, his voice more a whisper of defiance than certainty.
The leader's eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of a smile playing on their lips. "We come to test you," they said. "You are the one, the one who will stand against us in the coming war."
A sinking feeling twisted in Zenith's stomach. He had heard the rumors, the whispers of invaders, of battles fought between worlds. But this? This was beyond anything he had imagined.
"What war?" Zenith asked, his voice shaking slightly despite himself. His heart beat faster, an uncontrollable panic rising in his chest. "I'm no warrior. I'm not ready for any war."
The leader's smile widened, cruel and knowing. "That is why we are here. To show you that your readiness doesn't matter. To show you the truth."
Before Zenith could react, the invaders moved as one. A crack of energy split the air, sharp and brutal. The leader raised a hand, and Zenith felt the ground beneath him tremble. Without warning, the earth split open with a deafening roar, a chasm opening wide in front of him. He staggered back, barely managing to stay on his feet.
In an instant, the other invaders were upon him.
A woman, her body shimmering like smoke, appeared beside him in a blur. Her eyes burned with an intensity that matched the inferno within her. She struck without hesitation, a single swipe of her hand cutting through the air with a force that sent Zenith sprawling to the ground. His sword flew from his hand, and he gasped, struggling to breathe. He had barely seen her move.
"Is this the best you can do?" the woman taunted, her voice as cold as ice. She circled him, her laughter low and mocking. "Pathetic."
Zenith tried to summon his powers, but his body was sluggish. He could barely focus, the weight of their presence crushing him. Desperation surged through him, and he raised his hands, attempting to form a shield of light—but it flickered and sputtered, barely more than a wisp. The woman's foot connected with his chest, sending him flying backward. Pain exploded in his ribs as he collided with the hard earth, gasping for air.
"Pathetic," she repeated, her voice laced with scorn.
He tried to rise, but his legs buckled beneath him. His muscles screamed in protest, the physical toll of their assault leaving him weak and unsteady. In his mind, flashes of his training flickered—his failure to connect with his powers, his struggle to make sense of the visions Saphira had warned him about. None of it mattered now. He was too weak, too slow.
A figure loomed over him, another invader, with eyes like twin suns. Their gaze was unblinking, relentless.
"You are nothing," they said, their voice a low growl. "Your magic is weak. Your body is frail. You cannot even defend yourself, let alone stop us."
Zenith's breath came in shallow gasps as the world around him began to blur. His body screamed for relief, but there was no escape. The invader raised their hand, and Zenith felt a crushing weight on his chest, as if the air itself had turned to stone. His heart pounded in his ears, his vision narrowing.
But just as he thought he would lose consciousness, the leader's voice broke through the fog of panic. "Enough."
The pressure lifted, and Zenith collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his body trembling with pain. He barely heard the leader speak again, their voice cold and final.
"This was only a test, Zenith," they said. "A trial. You were never meant to win. We needed to see your limits. And now we know them."
Zenith struggled to lift his head, his hands pressing against the dirt for support. His vision swam, but he could hear the leader's words clearly, as if they were carved into his mind.
"If you fight us in the war, it will be the end of you," the leader continued, their voice a death sentence. "The forces you will face are far beyond anything you can comprehend. This was nothing. You are nothing. Prepare yourself, because when the real battle begins, you will fall. And we will rise."
Zenith's pulse hammered in his ears, the weight of their words suffocating him. He could barely keep his eyes open, could barely keep his thoughts together. The war was coming, and he was no match for these invaders. Not now. Not ever.
The invaders turned, their forms dissolving into the air, vanishing as if they had never been there at all. The silence that followed felt like a roar in his ears, deafening and final.
Zenith lay there, his body broken and bruised, the words of the invaders searing into his mind like a brand.
He wasn't ready. He wasn't even close.
But he would be. Somehow. He had to be. Because the war was coming, and it was coming for him.
Back at the camp, Nyra and Erya had been watching from the edge of the clearing, hidden in the shadows. They had seen the entire exchange. Nyra was the first to step forward, her expression grim but determined.
"I don't like this," Nyra said, her voice steady, though her eyes betrayed her concern. "This trial—they weren't just testing you. They were mocking you."
Zenith, still on his hands and knees, looked up, his face pale with exhaustion. "They said... it was just a taste. They told me that if I fought them in the real war, it would be my end."
Erya stepped forward, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. "Well, that's a load of nonsense. They're trying to break you before the fight even starts. But they won't win."
Zenith shook his head. "I don't know if I can stand against them. I wasn't ready for that… that was nothing compared to what they said is coming."
Nyra knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Then you'll train harder. We'll make sure you're ready. We won't let them win. You've fought monsters. You'll fight them too."
Erya's voice was sharp but reassuring. "You're not alone in this, Zenith. You have us. And we'll see it through together. If those invaders think they can intimidate you, they're dead wrong."
Zenith looked up at them, the fire of determination flickering back to life in his chest. "You're right. I can't give up now. Not when the war is coming. Not when you're here with me."
Nyra nodded firmly. "We won't let them break you. We fight together. Always."
Erya gave him a rare, approving smile. "Now get up. The real training starts now."