The jungle greeted Sylas with an oppressive stillness as he stepped out of the temple. The canopy overhead filtered the sunlight into faint, dappled patches on the forest floor, but it was quieter than he remembered. Too quiet.
The faint whispers that had guided him before were now silent, leaving only the pulsing glow of the mark on his hand as his guide. The new destination etched in his mind seemed farther away than the last, buried deep within uncharted territory.
Sylas adjusted the strap of his sword across his back and scanned his surroundings. The ground was uneven and littered with thick vines that writhed faintly, as though alive. The trees seemed taller and older here, their twisted roots forming natural barriers.
"Something's changed," he muttered, gripping his blade instinctively.
The path forward wasn't easy. The jungle grew more dangerous with every step. Creatures darted through the shadows, their glowing eyes watching him from a distance. Some growled low and menacingly, while others merely observed, waiting for an opportunity.
Sylas could feel their presence like an itch at the back of his mind.
They're watching, testing me.
The power he had absorbed in the temple coursed through him, sharpening his senses and reflexes. He moved carefully, his eyes scanning every shadow and his ears tuned to every sound.
The whispers in his mind finally returned, faint and fragmented.
"Beware… the… watchers…"
"Watchers?" Sylas repeated, his voice low. "What does that mean?"
The answer came quickly.
A low growl erupted from the underbrush, and before Sylas could react, a figure leapt from the shadows.
The creature was humanoid but far from human. Its body was covered in rough, bark-like skin, and its limbs were elongated and clawed. Its glowing amber eyes locked onto Sylas, filled with a primal intelligence that sent a chill down his spine.
Sylas barely had time to draw his sword before the creature lunged. Its speed was unlike anything he had faced before, and the force of its attack sent him stumbling back.
He regained his footing just in time to parry the creature's next strike, the impact reverberating up his arm.
"Damn it!" Sylas growled, pushing back with all his strength.
The creature hissed, circling him like a predator stalking its prey. Sylas adjusted his stance, his sword humming faintly as the symbols along its blade flared to life.
The two clashed again, the sound of metal meeting claw echoing through the jungle.
Sylas fought defensively, studying the creature's movements. It was fast and agile, its strikes precise and relentless. But it had weaknesses—moments when it overextended or paused to reassess.
When the creature lunged again, Sylas sidestepped and delivered a swift slash to its side. The blade cut deep, and the creature let out a shriek of pain.
But instead of retreating, it grew more feral, its movements becoming erratic and unpredictable.
Sylas dodged another strike, his breathing labored. This thing's not going to stop until one of us is dead.
The mark on his hand flared suddenly, and time seemed to slow. The whispers returned, clearer now: "Strike the core."
The core. Sylas's eyes zeroed in on the faint glow in the creature's chest, partially obscured by its bark-like skin.
The creature lunged one final time, and Sylas met its charge head-on. He parried its claws, twisting his body to avoid its snapping jaws, and drove his sword forward in one fluid motion.
The blade pierced through the glowing spot in the creature's chest.
The creature let out a guttural scream, its body convulsing as energy erupted from the wound. Sylas twisted the blade, and the creature collapsed, its body dissolving into ash-like particles.
Sylas staggered back, his chest heaving.
Floating in the air where the creature had fallen was another orb, its surface swirling with dark and golden hues.
The whispers urged him again: "Claim it."
Sylas hesitated for only a moment before reaching out. The orb dissolved into a stream of energy that flowed into his hand, spreading warmth through his body.
This time, the power was more intense. He felt his muscles tighten and his reflexes sharpen. His mind expanded, and for a brief moment, he could hear the jungle itself—the rustling of leaves, the breathing of creatures, the heartbeat of the land.
When the sensation faded, Sylas stood taller, his grip on his sword firm.
The jungle around him seemed different now, more vibrant and alive. The faint glow of his mark pulsed in rhythm with the world around him.
As he adjusted to his newfound strength, a low rumble echoed through the forest. The ground beneath his feet trembled, and distant roars filled the air.
Sylas's eyes narrowed. The Trial was changing again, and the next challenge was coming.
He turned toward the glowing point in his mind and began walking, his sword ready.
Sylas had claimed another fragment of power, but the jungle's secrets were far from revealed. The deeper he ventured, the darker and more dangerous the path became.