As the weight of the burlap sack pressed down on Evan's head, blocking out the world, his senses sharpened in other ways. He could hear footsteps echoing around him, the hard, rhythmic clack of armored boots that reverberated through the earth.
"Move, move." a soldier barked, punctuated by the scrape of chains.
Evan's hands were pulled forward by the rough tug of the chains connected to the others, however, his min was not at rest.
'Should I strike now?'
he thought, his fingers brushing the hilt of the small knife tucked at his waist, its edge dull but sharp enough to do damage if used in the right moment.
'No, I wouldn't stand a chance. They're trained. I'm just a man with a dagger. I should wait for the perfect moment.'
But doubt gnawed at him.
'....But...What if there isn't a perfect moment? What if I walk straight into whatever trap they've set for me and the worst happens?'
It was a terrifying thought which clung to his mind. However, there was a secondary thought in his mind, which till this point he had been struggling to find the answer.
'..I was in Nebula...I remember everything vividly- including when I took the trash out- but after that, ik it's all blank.'
'What had happened since then? How did I even get here?'
'How long have I been walking?' he wondered, but no answer came. All he could hear was the constant shuffle of boots and the distant chirping of birds—perhaps a sign that they were in a woodland most likely.
As he proceeded, he stumbled slightly, his foot catching on the uneven ground beneath him. His knees buckled, but he succeeded to keep to himself up, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he considered using the fall to his advantage.
'If I just fall down, they'll have to stop and help me. Then I'll make a run for it, and try to slip away.'
But then the reality of his situation slammed into him.
'No. I'm out numbered and blinded. The soldiers will be on me in an instance if I try anything.'
With no escape route, he could do nothing but stagger forward, the sound of his chains rattling in the stillness of the woods. Then, as though in response to his thoughts, the group came to a sudden halt. The soft rustling of the soldiers' movements ceased. Even the birds fell silent.
A man's voice, cold and commanding, rang through the air.
"Put them in formation, now."
Evan could feel the soldiers' hands on him again, this time guiding him into position. The rough tugging was deliberate, as though they were pushing him into place, but there was a strange coordination to it, like a synchronized dance that he wasn't part of. He was dragged, his body pulled through the motion by the unyielding chain. His knees scraped against the dirt as he was forced down to his knees, and then, in one smooth motion, the sack was ripped from his head.
He gasped, squinting against the sudden onslaught of light. The sharp sting of daylight burned into his retinas, but he forced his eyes open, adjusting to the surroundings.
'Where....am I this time?'
The sight that met him was unnerving.
They were in a clearing, an open field bordered by towering evergreen trees. The air here was thin and crisp, the scent of pine strong and pungent.
Evan's gaze darted from one prisoner to the next, and his confusion deepened.
'These aren'tthe conditions of an execution. There're no gallows, no stone slab for a final judgment' The thought lingered in his mind.
' If we were to die, why is there no crowd? No witnesses? That's how execution of prisoners were done in all the medieval manga I've read...so...what the hell are we doing here?'
The sudden movement of the soldiers around him broke his thoughts. They were securing the prisoners in place, surrounding them in a tight line, their faces hard as stone.
Then the Lord appeared—his silhouette looming like a shadow cast by an eclipse.
He stepped forward with deliberate slowness, his eyes scanning each of the prisoners one by one, as though he was savoring the moment.
Atlast, the Lord spoke, breaking the silence with his chilling words.
"I'm sure you all are wondering why you're here." His eyes flicked over the group.
"Many have stood in your shoes before. But they... they all had a happy ending. Well, to be blunt, happy for me."
A cruel smile spread across his face.
'Is this man... insane?' Evan couldn't understand the words—couldn't fathom how anyone could speak with such conviction, such twisted pride.
"What I do here is necessary," the Lord continued, his voice low and filled with dark purpose.
"You all have been chosen, and I take great pride in what I must do. It's a form of purification. You are the scum of the earth, and in order to cleanse myself, I must rid the world of you."
Evan's stomach churned, his blood running cold as he took in the man's words.
'It was an execution. But what the hell is this? This isn't justice; it sounds more like madness.'
He clenched his fists, the small dagger still resting against his side, useless against this madness.
The Lord's gaze shifted across the prisoners again.
"If any of you have questions, raise your hand."
None of the prisoners moved, their faces pale with terror. They knew. They understood what was coming. Even in their fear, they couldn't stop what had been set in motion. One by one, their eyes filled with dread.
The Lord's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. He drew it slowly, the steel flashing as the blade caught the light. His malicious grin deepened.
"Who's first?" he asked, his voice a mockery of curiosity.
With a flick of his wrist, he pointed the tip of the sword at the second prisoner, who was right at Evans side.
The man was old, frail, his body bent with the weight of years. He looked like he had been worn down by time itself, his skin pale and his hair thinning on top. His eyes widened in fear as the Lord approached him.
"No, no, please," the man begged, his voice trembling.
"Please, I'll repent. I'll spend my life in service. I'll care for the orphans. Please, spare me. I beg you." His words were frantic, desperate.
The Lord sneered.
"Who gives a damn about the gods?"
he spat. The sword flashed down in a blur of motion, striking with precision. The man let out a final, desperate cry as the blade sank deep into his chest, piercing through him like he was made of paper. His body jerked with the impact before collapsing to the ground, lifeless.
Evan's stomach churned as he watched. The blood pooled around the old man's body, his final breath still visible in the cold air. And with one last painful gasp for air, the poor old my died.
'Oh my God! He's...He's dead! He's actually dead!!'
The thought hit Evan like a slap to the face. He felt his insides twist, a wave of nausea sweeping over him.
' What kind of monster is this man? He can't be human. No normal human would kill another human with such pride...right?'
Before Evan could react, the Lord's attention turned to the next prisoner—a young man, beautiful in an ethereal way, his features delicate but hardened by the life he'd lived.
"You." The Lord stated as he pointed his freshly bloodied blade at the young man, releasing a slight satisfied chuckle.
"Please my Lord. Mercy."
Unfortunately, the Lord gave him none. His sword slicing through the air with a fluid motion, passed through the prisoners chest with such ease and as he released it, tge prisoner fell to the ground.
And so, the other prisoners, while still knelt, were shaking in fear as they all gazed upon the gruesome scene. You could almost smell the fear from them as they all began to gradually breakdown.
The soldiers, who had been standing like statues, kept their eyes fixed on the scene. They made no move to intervene, not even a flicker of emotion crossing their faces.
Evan's heart pounded, his hands shaking as he struggled against his restraints.
'Is this how I'll die?' His mind screamed.
' Alone, in a forest, surrounded by strangers, without a soul to care... and...a goddamn virgin!'
Releasing a short sigh of relief as the Lord took a good look at the atrocities he had just committed with pride, the Lord returned to his inspection. The moment stretched on forever, the tension thick enough to suffocate.
"Who's next?" The Lord's voice broke through Evan's thoughts. The blade hovered near his chest.
Taking his precious time, the lord looked from side to side, looking for his next target. And atlast, he sighted him.
"You." the Lord said, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
"Pretty boy...Very pretty boy, with blue eyes, eh? You're so pretty, I think I might keep you as a souvenir. Guards." The Lord commanded.
Evan's heart lurched as the two guards behind him immediately stepped forward, forcing him down to a cow pose- exposing his neck.
'No. No, this can't be it. Not this soon. I can't die like this.' His hands were trembling as he reached for the dagger at his waist, struggling against the knights who held him down.
The sword pressed against his neck, the cool steel biting into his skin as the Lord leaned closer, grinning.
"Stay still," the Lord commanded, his voice a mockery of calm.
"This will only take a moment."
Evan's breath caught in his throat. His pulse raced as he stared at the Lord, at the gleaming blade poised above him.
'This is it. I'm actually going to die?!!'
Right then, once again, the system notification appeared.
[Congratulations, Player.]
a disembodied voice intoned.
>You have begun the Trial of Courage.
Task 1: Survive.
'Huh?' Evan thought to himself.
'What the hell is this? I'm about to die and I've been tasked to survive?! How the hell am I supposed to survive this?!!'
But just as the sword swung down, a deafening roar echoed through the forest, sending a shiver through the air.
The Lord's strike faltered, his eyes snapping toward the sound.
The soldiers, along with the prisoners stood still as they turned their gaze from side to side.
Then came a second roar, and along with it was massive tree, thrown a few meters above, crashing through the underbrush, slamming into the ground where one of the knights-who wasn't quick enough to move- and crushed him along with a horse with a sickening crunch.
Out of the forest emerged a creature unlike anything Evan had ever seen.
It was a bear—or at least, it resembled one. Standing over twenty feet tall, its hulking frame was covered in matted fur streaked with blood and burns. Arrows jutted from its back, and one of its eyes- the left eye- was milky white, scarred by a jagged claw mark. Its jaws were lined with monstrous teeth, and its claws gleamed like razors.
The beast let out a bone-chilling roar, its keen eyes locking onto the group. Evan felt his blood run cold as he stared into the creature's gaze. The message in his mind echoed louder than ever.
'Survive.'