Sylas lay on the cold ground of the chamber, his chest heaving as he clutched the glowing crystal in his hand. Its light pulsed softly, casting faint shadows on the walls. The rush of energy he'd felt earlier had subsided, leaving behind an odd sensation—a blend of exhaustion and clarity, as if his senses had been heightened.
He sat up slowly, glancing around the chamber. The walls, previously smooth, now shimmered with faint symbols that seemed alive, shifting and rearranging themselves in intricate patterns.
"What is this thing?" he murmured, staring at the crystal. It fit neatly into his palm, its surface smooth and warm to the touch. As he held it, the mark on his hand flared in response, a pulse of bronze light linking the two.
Before he could ponder further, the voice returned.
"You have claimed the first Fragment of Ascension. The path ahead will test your strength, resolve, and spirit."
"Fragment?" Sylas asked aloud, his voice echoing in the chamber. "How many are there? What happens when I find them all?"
The voice did not answer his questions directly. Instead, it spoke cryptically: "The fragments will unlock your potential and reveal the truth of this world. Seek them, and you may rise above. Fail, and you will perish."
As the voice faded, the symbols on the walls shifted again, forming a map. Unlike the one outside, this map showed detailed paths branching out in multiple directions, each marked with distinct glowing points.
Sylas studied it carefully, his heart sinking. "This place is massive," he muttered.
The glowing point nearest to his location pulsed faintly. It was clear this was his next destination.
"Fine," he said, slipping the crystal into his pocket. "One step at a time."
The air outside the chamber was thick with humidity as Sylas stepped back into the jungle. The transition from the cool, serene interior to the chaotic, vibrant world of the jungle was jarring.
The moment he stepped outside, the sounds of the jungle returned in full force: the distant calls of creatures, the rustling of leaves, and the faint hum of insects.
Sylas tightened his grip on his makeshift weapons—a jagged claw and a sharpened piece of bone. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not even for a moment.
The glowing point on the map in his mind pulled him forward, the mark on his hand faintly guiding him like a compass.
Hours passed as Sylas trudged through the jungle, his body aching from the effort. He encountered several smaller creatures along the way—some harmless, others aggressive.
One such encounter nearly cost him his life.
A reptilian beast, smaller than the one he had faced earlier but no less deadly, lunged at him from the shadows. Sylas barely managed to dodge, the creature's claws raking the air where he had been standing.
The fight that followed was brutal. Sylas's movements were clumsy, his strikes wild and imprecise. But the mark on his hand flared again, enhancing his speed and reflexes just enough to give him an edge.
When the creature finally fell, Sylas collapsed beside it, his chest heaving.
"Too close," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.
He examined his mark once more, watching as its glow faded slightly. It seemed to respond to his need, but he could feel the toll it was taking on his body.
I need to get stronger, he thought grimly.
As night fell, the jungle grew even more foreboding. The temperature dropped, and the sounds of nocturnal creatures filled the air. Sylas knew he couldn't afford to keep moving in the dark.
He found a large tree with low-hanging branches and climbed up, settling into a crook between two thick limbs. It wasn't comfortable, but it was safer than staying on the ground.
As he rested, his mind wandered back to the vision he'd seen when he touched the crystal.
The flames. The crumbling ground. Ana's terrified face.
He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. "What does it mean? Why was she there?"
The mark on his hand pulsed faintly, as if in response, but no answers came.
The morning came slowly, the jungle waking with the first rays of sunlight. Sylas climbed down from the tree, his muscles stiff and sore. He drank sparingly from a nearby stream, careful to stay alert for any signs of danger.
The glowing point in his mind urged him onward, and he resumed his journey.
The next destination was unlike the first. Instead of a tree or a clearing, Sylas found himself standing before a massive stone archway, partially hidden by vines and moss. The symbols etched into its surface glowed faintly, matching the mark on his hand.
As he stepped closer, the archway shimmered, and a faint barrier of light appeared within its frame.
Sylas hesitated. "Another test?"
The mark on his hand pulsed again, the whispers urging him forward. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the barrier.
The world beyond the archway was different. The oppressive jungle was gone, replaced by an open plain under a star-filled sky. The ground was covered in strange, glowing flowers that emitted a soft, otherworldly light.
At the center of the plain stood a pedestal, similar to the one in the tree. But this time, there was no crystal. Instead, there was a weapon.
A sword.
Its blade was sleek and curved, its surface etched with the same glowing symbols as the Stele. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, and the entire weapon pulsed with a quiet, restrained power.
Sylas approached cautiously, his breath catching as the mark on his hand flared brighter than ever.
The whispers became a roar in his mind: "Claim it."
Without hesitation, Sylas reached out and grasped the hilt.
The moment his fingers closed around it, the world erupted in light.
Pain surged through his body, and his vision blurred. The whispers in his mind grew louder, more coherent, speaking in a language he didn't understand.
Images flashed before his eyes—battles, triumphs, defeats. He saw figures wielding weapons similar to the one he now held, their marks glowing brightly as they fought against impossible odds.
When the vision ended, Sylas found himself kneeling on the ground, the sword clutched tightly in his hand.
The mark on his hand was brighter than ever, its warmth spreading through his entire body. He felt… different. Stronger.
The voice returned, calm and resonant.
"You have taken the first step. The path to power begins here."
Sylas stood slowly, his grip on the sword firm.
He didn't know what lay ahead, but for the first time since the Trial began, he felt ready to face it.
The Trial was far from over, but Sylas was no longer the same. The jungle still held its dangers, and the mysteries of the Stele remained unsolved. But now, he had a weapon—and a reason to keep fighting.