Trials of Fallen Gods
I’ve lived my whole life in a place where hope is a joke, where the strong prey on the weak, and where I’ve been beaten down more times than I care to count.
The legends speak of a core buried deep within this cursed world, a place where the gods themselves fell, leaving behind their power for those foolish enough to seek it. They say that if you survive the trials—if you can endure the agony, the despair—you’ll gain a power so great that even the gods would bow to you.
But here’s the thing: no one, in the past 600 thousand years, has ever made it. Not one. They either died trying or turned back. Those who turned back now rule this world. They’re not heroes. They’re tyrants, monsters who shape the world to their twisted wills.
So why am I doing this? Because I’m already living a life of suffering and chains. I’m going to die a slave anyway, so why not try to do something more?
Maybe I’ll be the next failure, maybe I’ll end up just like the rest. But if there’s even a chance that I can reach that power and change this brutal world, I have to try.