As the flash of light engulfed Zami, the weight of the Withering Spire disappeared. The heavy, oppressive atmosphere was gone, replaced by a disorienting emptiness. When the blinding light receded, Zami found himself standing in a strange new place.
It was endless.
The ground beneath him was unnervingly smooth and stark white, like polished marble that stretched infinitely in every direction. There was no horizon, no sky, no shadows—just an endless, featureless expanse of blinding white. It was a place devoid of time and space, as if it existed outside reality itself.
Zami's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his katana. His silver eyes scanned the surroundings, but there was nothing to see—no structures, no creatures, no sound. Just an overwhelming, oppressive silence that seemed to press against his mind.
"Prove your worth," came the cold, detached voice of the Shattered Dominion. It echoed in the endless expanse, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "By surviving here."
Zami's expression didn't change, though his instincts screamed that this place was dangerous. His body shifted into a guarded stance, ready for anything. "What is this?" he asked, his voice low and steady, cutting through the silence like a blade.
"This is the realm of nothingness," the Shattered Dominion replied. "A place where time and space cease to exist. A place where only the strong survive."
Zami narrowed his eyes. "If survival is the test, then send what you will. I've faced worse."
The Shattered Dominion's voice was devoid of emotion. "Your enemy is not what you expect. Survive."
The voice faded, leaving Zami alone in the oppressive silence once more.
The First Hour
At first, there was nothing. No enemies, no traps—just the endless white void. Zami's sharp senses, honed by thousands of years of combat and survival, picked up no signs of danger.
But as time passed, he began to notice something strange. His footsteps made no sound, his breaths felt heavy, and the weight of the silence grew unbearable. The emptiness of the realm wasn't just physical—it was mental, emotional. It gnawed at his mind, like an invisible predator preying on his thoughts.
"This isn't a test of combat," Zami muttered to himself, his voice breaking the silence. "It's a test of endurance. Of the mind."
He continued walking, though there was no direction to follow. The white expanse stretched infinitely in every direction, and no matter how far he moved, the terrain remained the same. He couldn't even tell if he was making progress.
The Second Hour
As the hours stretched on, Zami began to feel the effects of the realm. His body, though trained to endure the harshest of environments, began to feel heavier. His movements became sluggish, his breaths labored.
And then, the whispers began.
Faint, distant voices echoed in his mind, like fragments of forgotten memories. They weren't his memories—they were something else entirely.
"Failure..."
"You cannot escape..."
"Give up..."
Zami shook his head, clenching his fists tightly. The voices grew louder, more insistent, filling his mind with doubt and despair.
He dropped to one knee, gripping the hilt of his katana so tightly his knuckles turned white. His silver eyes burned with determination. "This is just another trial," he muttered. "I won't break."
He activated *Adrenaline Surge*, forcing his body to ignore the creeping fatigue. The familiar rush of energy coursed through his veins, sharpening his focus and pushing the whispers to the back of his mind.
The Third Hour
The terrain began to shift. Cracks appeared in the pristine white surface, and from them, black tendrils began to emerge. They slithered across the ground like living shadows, reaching for Zami.
Zami stood his ground, his katana gleaming in the faint light of the void. He waited until the tendrils lunged at him, then struck with precision. Using *Wild Cat Flow*, he moved with fluid grace, dodging and slicing through the tendrils with ease.
But no matter how many he cut down, more kept coming. The tendrils multiplied, their movements becoming more erratic and aggressive.
"They're endless," Zami said under his breath. "This place is trying to wear me down."
He switched tactics, using *Blade Bind* to entangle the tendrils and sever them in large swaths. He followed up with *Mantis Shrimp Punch*, delivering powerful, concentrated strikes to destroy the tendrils at their source.
The Fourth Hour
The tendrils receded, leaving Zami alone once more. He was breathing heavily now, his body drenched in sweat. The oppressive silence returned, but it was no longer the same.
The air felt heavier, colder. And then, in the distance, Zami saw something—a figure.
It was faint at first, but as it approached, its form became clearer. It was... him.
An exact copy of Zami stood before him, clad in the same black cloak, the same straw hat, holding the same ominous katana. But its eyes were pitch black, devoid of any emotion or life.
"You can't defeat yourself," the copy said, its voice a distorted echo of Zami's own. "You've already lost."
Zami didn't respond. He steadied his breathing, gripping his katana tightly. This was the true test.
The copy lunged at him, moving with the same speed and precision that Zami himself had mastered. Their blades clashed, sparks flying as the force of their strikes reverberated through the empty expanse.
The fight was relentless. The copy mirrored Zami's techniques perfectly, countering every strike with equal skill.
When Zami used *Earth Slam*, the copy evaded and retaliated with *Hawk Drop*. When Zami attempted *Pierce*, the copy parried and followed up with *Multi Kick*.
It was like fighting a perfect reflection of himself—every move, every thought anticipated.
But Zami noticed one crucial detail: the copy lacked something.
It had his techniques, his strength, his speed—but it didn't have his resolve.
Zami's eyes burned with determination. He activated *Adrenaline Surge* again, pushing his body beyond its limits. He feinted with *Razor Sharp Hands*, forcing the copy to block, then followed up with *Blood Cell Explosion*, channeling the destructive force into his blade.
The explosion caught the copy off guard, shattering its defenses. Zami didn't hesitate. He used *Hidden Strike*, delivering a final, devastating blow that severed the copy in half.
The copy dissolved into nothingness, leaving Zami alone once more. The ground beneath him cracked, and a staircase appeared, leading further into the Spire.
Zami sheathed his katana, his hand trembling slightly from the strain. He glanced at the endless white expanse one last time before stepping onto the staircase.
"This place won't break me," he said quietly. "I've survived worse."
As he began his ascent, the voice of the Shattered Dominion echoed faintly in his mind.
"Impressive. But the true trial is yet to come."