The horizon stretched far and wide, meeting a sea of dark red blood. The liquid moved slowly, its thick surface looking like oil. Small waves rolled in gently, barely making a ripple, as if the sea itself didn't want to move.

Above, seven bright suns hung in the sky in a fixed pattern. Their strong glow lit up the sea. Most of the light was absorbed by the liquid, with only a faint shimmer bouncing back. The few rays that escaped created a soft, red glow on the surface, coloring everything around in shades of crimson.

The sea made quiet, low gurgling sounds. Sometimes, a deeper, steady hum echoed, like the sound of a distant heartbeat.

Suddenly, a purple portal appeared in the sky, a sharp rectangle glowing against the bright light. From it, seven figures emerged, two women and five men. Each was followed by a group of ten individuals, all of them floating quietly, one by one, into the air. The portal remained open behind them, a window to somewhere beyond this strange world.

The leading figures moved calmly, their steps steady and sure. They seemed used to carrying heavy responsibilities. The others, though also calm, moved with more energy. Their faces looked more alert, as if they were still adjusting to the situation.

The newcomers wore different kinds of clothes, varying in style, size, and color. The leaders and the individuals floated above the sea. They didn't seem surprised or confused. They appeared to know this world very well.

The oldest of the seven leading figures, a man with black eyes and long, white hair that hung lifelessly in the still air, took a step forward. His gaze settled on the sea below, lingering as if searching for something in its slow, rippling depths. His hands moved behind his back, clasping firmly, and he stood there in silence for a moment. The light from the seven suns cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the solemn lines etched into his features.

Without turning, his deep voice broke the silence. "You are standing here today because of your competence and hunger to stand above all."

He paused, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. The sound of the faint gurgling sea below seemed to match his words.

"What you see before you is an opportunity that will push your powers beyond what you have imagined. Each of you will travel down into the blood sea below and try to go as deep as possible." His voice remained calm and he continued "The deeper you go, the more benefits you will receive. This sea will temper your body, it will refine your astral energy, and it will increase your connection to your bloodlines. In some cases, we have observed even talents improving beyond natural limits."

He turned his head slightly, just enough to let his voice carry toward the group behind him "But despite all these advantages, know this: this trial claims the lives of nearly one-third of those who attempt it."

The group stood in tense silence as the old man's words reached them.

"We have never understood what this sea represents, who created it, nature, or someone, or something." His tone serious and he moved his face to look up at the seven suns in the sky. "We do not know why it exists. But through countless trials and the sacrifice of lives, we have explored its dangers and rewards."

He paused briefly, his gaze deep. "The danger comes from the pressure it generates, the deeper you go, the stronger it becomes. Some of its properties resemble water, others blood and many remain unlike anything we have seen. One thing is certain: it is full of astral energy, an amount so vast it seems endless."

"The deeper you go, the more you will feel the pull to keep going," the old man continued. "It will make you believe you can achieve anything, that you can surpass your limits. But that is when you must control your greed and understand the limits of your body."

He paused, his black eyes narrowing slightly. "If you push beyond those limits, if you continue going deeper, you will simply dissolve and merge with the sea. You will stop existing."

His words hung heavily in the air. "This sea will erase you, your body, your essence, and everything you are. No protection will work. No artifact, treasure, or even your space rings will survive if you go below a certain depth."

"Take your time," he said, his voice soothing. "Dive slowly and make sure you keep your greed in check. There is no way for us to contact you down there, but we will maintain the portal for three days."

His gaze shifted briefly toward the portal, its faint glow casting long shadows. "The maximum anyone has stayed below is close to three days. So you will have enough time to explore and adapt."

He clasped his hands behind his back again. "There is nothing more to say. If you have questions, you may speak now. But let me be clear, there is no backing out allowed."

The man and the other leaders stood in silence, their gazes sweeping over the group. No one spoke, no questions were asked. After a moment, the man broke the stillness. "No need to delay. You can begin."

At his words, the warriors began descending toward the surface of the sea. Some moved cautiously, their eyes fixed on the viscous fluid below, while others approached with eager strides. As they neared the strange surface, they touched it hesitantly, fingers brushing against the oily substance. Some knelt, their hands lingering as if trying to understand it, while others tested it with small, swift movements.

Then, one by one, each warrior began to sink or dive into the sea, their bodies disappearing beneath the surface. No doubts remained in their motions, each of them choosing their path, guided by their own instincts and desire to prove themselves.

The next day passed in silence. The leaders remained at their positions, the portal still open behind them, and its purple glow unchanging. The passing hours brought no change to the sea's calm. The strange red-black fluid continued its slow, deliberate waves, reflecting only faint glimmers of the suns' light.

Somewhere in the depths of the sea a warrior, well-built but of short stature, floated in the dark sea. His bald head glistened with the strange fluid as his beard, short and thick, lightly touched his neck. His eyes were closed, and he appeared completely relaxed, suspended in the depths. Despite the overwhelming pressure around him, he was at ease, drifting deeper into the sea's strange embrace.

'There's that feeling again,' he thought, his mind lingering on the unsettling sensation. 'Why does it feel like the sea is alive? It's like....someone is watching me.'

He opened his eyes briefly, scanning the dim surroundings. The depths around him were filled with darkness, offering no answers, only a sense of growing isolation. The pressure around him deepened, but it didn't feel like danger, not yet. Instead, it was as if the sea itself was quietly urging him deeper, pulling him toward something unknown.

'Maybe this is how the sea pulls people in,' he thought. 'It twists their minds and clouds their judgment. But I can't stop now....this isn't my limit.'

He pushed forward, the sea wrapping around him like a living force; both soothing and suffocating.

Another day passed, and the man remained floating at a considerable depth, deeper than most of his companions. His body was tense, though his face remained stoic, showing little of the strain he was under. But the pressure was evident, his fists were clenched tightly, his muscles visibly tensed as the weight of the sea pressed down on him.

'I can feel the pull clearly now,' he thought, his mind racing. 'But my body's at its limit. If I go any deeper….'

He hesitated, doubt creeping in.

'No.' He clenched his fists, pushing the fear aside. 'This is my only chance, to catch up to Dion or surpass him.'

His internal thoughts were a battleground, each one tugging at him in opposite directions. The rivalry with Dion, his stepbrother, had always been a driving force in his life, pushing him beyond his limits. But now, in the depths of the sea, that competition felt more dangerous than ever.

He fought against the mounting pressure, both external and internal, as the sea whispered in his ears, urging him deeper.

The shorter warrior recalled his last encounter with Dion before the trial, the way Dion had sneered,

"Still chasing me? You'll never be enough."

The words had cut deeper than any wound, but he hadn't let it show.

'No more.' His grip tightened. 'This sea is my last chance. If I fail here, there's nothing left for me.'

Their rivalry was no longer about grabbing power, it was about survival. His survival. His family's. The one who went further wouldn't just claim the rewards; they would decide who got to live.

'This time, I'll be the one who takes it all.'

As soon as he made the decision, he pulled out an artifact from his space ring, a perfectly smooth, red-black cube. Its surface was flawless, without runes or markings, as if it rejected any impurity. He ran his fingers over it, feeling the cool texture beneath his touch.

His thoughts drifted to the war he had waged to claim it. After hearing rumors of an ancient treasure that could shield against astral energy storms and protect the mind from illusions, he had launched a bloody campaign on a distant world. Many of his loyal followers had fallen in that battle, their lives traded for the promise of this artifact. When he finally tested it, the rumors proved true, and the heavy price he paid no longer felt in vain.

The moment he pulled the cube out, the thick, viscous sea reacted. The dense fluid seemed to part slightly, its surface shimmering with faint blue astral energy as it swirled around the artifact. The tension in his shoulders eased, and his lips curled into a small smile.

'It works', he thought, the knot of doubt in his chest loosening. After spending time down here in this strange sea, he had feared the artifact might fail here. But now, he felt its power resonating, and for the first time, he allowed himself a moment of confidence.

He focused inward, reaching for something deeper than energy, his very soul. The method to activate the artifact was what had drawn him to it in the first place. It required fragments of the soul to awaken, a humongous price for power.

For a warrior of his level, accessing the soul was possible. He focused deeply, isolating a small fragment of it. The moment he severed it, a raw, piercing sensation spread through him, like countless needles scraping his very being. His jaw tightened against the pain as he guided the faintly glowing fragment of his soul out of his body and toward the cube. 

As the fragment floated toward the cube, it began to fade, its glow dimming like a candle snuffed out by an unseen force.

The warrior's chest tightened as he realized what was happening. The soul fragment was being erased, consumed by the very sea around him. He had heard the old man's warnings, but he had convinced himself it didn't apply to the cube or the fragment. His jaw clenched as he watched the piece of himself disintegrate.

Then, without warning, the process stopped. The fragment's glow flickered, stabilizing as if held in place by an unseen force. The sea, which moments ago had seemed intent on erasing the fragment, now felt eerily still. The dense liquid around him pulsed faintly, almost as if it were alive, observing him. The thick substance seemed to cradle him now, not with hostility but with a directed intent, as though it didn't want him to pull back or hesitate.

He forced the unease down. He wasn't going to stop, not now. With a final push, he pressed the fragment into the cube. The artifact stirred to life, dark red-black lines began to shift across its surface. The movements were slow and mesmerizing. Beneath him, the sea responded, a wave of hidden excitement flowing through its depths. It was not an obvious reaction, but the thick liquid seemed to stir with anticipation, almost as if it feared being seen, as if it was careful not to betray its true eagerness to anyone, inside or outside the depths.

The instant the artifact activated, the warrior's body froze completely. His heart stopped beating, his blood ceased flowing, and not even the slightest twitch of his muscles could be made. The sea of thick, viscous blood around him stilled, as if congealing in place, frozen in time. Silence descended, and the only light was the dim, eerie glow of the red-black lines twisting across the artifact.

Fear gripped him in the very depths of his soul. He could feel it, something was coming. It was undeniable. His thoughts raced, but none were of any use. He understood in that instant, deep down, through his instincts honed over many years of war, that this was it. His dreams, his ambitions, all would end here, in this forsaken depth. But he was a warrior. He would not cower. If this was the end, he would meet it like a warrior should.

As if answering his silent resolve, the sea churned, quietly, deep below him. It was a movement only he could sense. And then, from the depths, an apparition formed, an amorphous figure, made of the thick, viscous liquid, constantly changing shape. It was formless yet somehow whole, a reflection of the sea's very essence, and it loomed before him.

The warrior waited, anticipating words, a revelation, some form of communication, but there was nothing. The figure moved with silent patience, slowly its flowing, shifting form engulfing the cube in its dark embrace. Then it halted, appearing as if it were waiting.

Then suddenly it happened.

Starting at his toes, the warrior's flesh and blood started dissolving along with anything on his body, silently merging with the sea, as the amorphous figure observed in unbroken silence. The warrior watched in muted horror, his trembling eyes betraying the fear he refused to voice. This was not how he had expected to die, no scream, no struggle, just silent erasure.

As the last of him faded, a soft whisper brushed against his thoughts: 'Thank you.'