The air shuddered with power.
Noah barely had time to brace himself before the woman's silver energy lashed toward him. The blast wasn't physical—it was force itself, a wave of invisible pressure slamming into his chest.
His feet left the ground.
Pain exploded through his ribs as he was hurled backward. He hit the stone floor hard, rolling across the cracked surface before managing to plant his hands and push himself up. His breath came in ragged gasps.
She hadn't even moved.
The woman stood exactly where she had been, her silver eyes watching him without emotion. The pulse of energy around her had faded, as if the attack had been a mere test.
"Your body is still weak."
Noah gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. His legs were shaking, his muscles burning. He knew he was at a massive disadvantage. This wasn't a fight he could win with brute force.
So he needed to think.
Noah focused.
The sigil had changed him. He could still feel it—a pulse of energy beneath his skin, waiting to be understood. If he could call upon it again, even just a fraction—
He inhaled sharply, centering his mind.
And the moment he did, the world around him shifted.
The air thickened, the edges of reality became sharper. His senses expanded—the carvings on the walls, the flickering runes on the gate, the very breath of the woman in front of him.
It was like stepping into another layer of reality.
And in that instant, he realized something.
She was testing him.
Not just his strength—his ability to adapt.
She raised her hand again. Another pulse of silver light formed at her fingertips.
But this time, Noah moved first.
He didn't have a weapon. Didn't have armor. But what he did have—was the sigil's energy.
He reached inside himself and let his instincts guide him.
The instant the energy blast surged forward, he threw out his hand—not to block, but to redirect.
And it worked.
The force that should have slammed into him bent around his palm, twisting like liquid before dispersing into the stone floor.
The woman's silver eyes widened—the first hint of surprise.
Noah didn't stop. He pushed forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.
His body still ached, but the moment he had channeled the sigil's energy, something had changed. His movements felt sharper. Faster. More precise.
She raised her hand again—but he was already moving.
Noah pivoted low, sweeping his leg toward hers in a counterstrike. If she was a spellcaster, he needed to break her stance.
The attack connected.
For the first time, the woman staggered.
Her robe rippled like mist, as if her very form was shifting between reality and something else.
Noah didn't hesitate. He followed through, aiming for her wrist—trying to stop her from casting again.
But she was faster.
Before he could make contact, she vanished.
A cold presence formed behind him.
Noah barely had time to react before a hand pressed against the back of his neck.
And suddenly—
Everything disappeared.
The chamber was gone. The stone. The gate. The ruins.
Noah's body was weightless. Suspended in a void of pure white. His heart pounded, his limbs felt frozen in place.
Then, a voice.
Not just heard—felt.
"Your instincts are sharp. Your potential is undeniable."
The woman's voice, but amplified, as if it echoed through the fabric of existence itself.
"But raw talent alone is not enough."
Noah gasped as reality snapped back into place.
He was standing again—but this time, he wasn't alone.
The chamber remained, the gate still towering before him. But now, shadows lined the walls.
Figures emerged from the darkness.
Ten. No—twenty. Cloaked in black, faceless, silent.
Noah tensed.
This wasn't just a test anymore.
It was a trial.
The woman's form shifted, stepping back toward the gate.
"Face them."
Her voice was calm, almost curious.
Noah clenched his fists. He had no weapon. No armor. No idea what these things even were.
And yet, he knew one thing.
This trial was about proving something.
To her.
To the sigil.
To himself.
The first figure rushed forward.
Noah barely had time to dodge before the second came from behind.
Instinct.
Move.
He ducked under a sweeping strike, rolling to the side. The sigil's energy was still inside him—he had to use it.
He focused, feeling the pulse of power.
And the moment he did, the carvings on the walls glowed.
The same blue light as before.
He didn't understand the runes. Didn't know their meaning.
But his body did.
He reached out, tracing a shape in the air.
And the runes responded.
A pulse of force erupted from his hands, slamming into the nearest figure. The faceless enemy staggered backward, dissolving into mist.
Noah's breath hitched.
It worked.
Another one lunged. This time, he sidestepped, channeling the energy again—this time, focusing it into his palm.
The moment he struck, the force magnified.
Impact. The faceless enemy shattered.
Noah exhaled sharply.
This wasn't a battle of endurance.
It was a battle of understanding.
He had to learn—**adapt—**and conquer.
The figures surged forward all at once.
And Noah was ready.