The scent of damp earth and old stone filled Kael's lungs as he awoke, his body aching as if he had been crushed under the weight of a mountain. Darkness pressed against him, thick and impenetrable, and for a moment, he panicked, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Where was he? How had he gotten here?

Memories flickered at the edges of his mind like dying embers—flashes of a battle, a searing pain in his chest, and then... nothing.

A faint blue glow shimmered in the distance, barely illuminating the rough-hewn walls of what appeared to be an underground cavern. Slowly, Kael pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling. His fingers brushed against something cool and metallic at his side—a sword, its hilt ornately carved with symbols he didn't recognize. Had it been his? It felt foreign, yet familiar, as if it had been waiting for him all along.

The light pulsed, drawing his gaze toward a towering archway at the far end of the cavern. Ancient runes adorned its surface, their glow waxing and waning like a heartbeat. As Kael took a step forward, a voice whispered in his mind.

The cycle begins anew.

He spun around, but there was no one there. Only the echoes of his own ragged breathing and the silent weight of the cavern. Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward, his footsteps crunching against the loose gravel beneath him.

As he passed through the archway, the glow of the runes flared, momentarily blinding him. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in a vast underground hall. Statues of armored warriors lined the walls, each one holding a different weapon—swords, spears, axes—yet their faces were eerily identical. They bore the same sharp features, the same piercing eyes… the same face as his own.

A chill ran down Kael's spine. He had never seen these statues before, and yet, deep within him, something remembered.

Before he could dwell on the thought, the ground trembled beneath him. A gust of wind—impossible in this enclosed space—whipped through the hall, carrying with it the scent of fire and blood. A deep, resonant voice filled the chamber.

"You have awakened."

Kael turned sharply, his grip tightening on the sword. Shadows coalesced at the far end of the hall, taking shape, solidifying into a towering figure clad in black armor. A jagged crown rested upon its head, and in its skeletal grip, it held a sword that pulsed with malevolent energy.

"Who are you?" Kael demanded, his voice hoarse.

The figure chuckled, a hollow sound that sent shivers through the air. "You do not remember. But you will."

Kael braced himself as the figure raised its sword, darkness swirling around it. He had no idea who he was, where he was, or why the statues bore his face. But one thing was certain.

He was in danger.

And he had no choice but to fight.

***

Kael barely had time to react. The black-armored figure lunged, its sword cleaving through the air with terrifying speed. He barely managed to raise his own blade in time, and when the two weapons met, a shockwave of dark energy rippled outward, sending him stumbling backward.

The force of the impact numbed his arms, but he gritted his teeth and steadied his stance. His opponent stood motionless now, sword lowered, as if waiting. Testing him.

Kael didn't intend to fail.

He lunged forward, slashing at the figure's side. His strike met resistance, but instead of metal, it was like cutting into thick smoke. The blade passed through harmlessly, and the figure chuckled, a sound as hollow as the void.

"Is that all?" it whispered.

Kael didn't answer. He pivoted, slashing again, but the figure dispersed into a swirl of shadows, reforming a few feet away. It raised one gauntleted hand, and tendrils of darkness slithered toward him like living serpents.

Instinct took over. Kael rolled to the side, avoiding the first tendrils, but one managed to graze his leg. Agony flared through his body, cold and sharp, as if ice had seeped into his veins. He cried out, stumbling to his knees.

The shadowed figure strode forward. "You are weak," it murmured. "Just as you were before."

Before? Kael's mind raced, but there was no time to ponder. He had to fight. He had to win.

Planting his sword into the stone, he forced himself up. The pain coursing through his body sharpened his focus. His eyes flicked to the glowing runes on the walls, their soft pulsing light seeming to whisper something just beyond his understanding.

A memory surfaced.

Not words, not images, but a feeling. A pull.

His grip tightened on the sword, and he let himself follow that pull. The runes flared to life as he moved, guiding him. His next strike wasn't wild—it was deliberate, aimed not at the figure's body but at its shadow.

The moment his sword connected, the shadowed figure let out a hiss. The darkness wavered, unraveling at the edges. Kael pressed forward, striking again and again. Each hit scattered the shadows further, until all that remained was the echo of a whisper.

"The cycle… begins anew."

Then silence.

Kael stood alone in the chamber, chest heaving. The statues that had once loomed over him were gone, their presence erased as if they had never been there. The only thing that remained was the glowing archway ahead.

He knew now—this was no ordinary place. It was a trial.

And he had passed the first test.