Renjiro stood across from Noah, arms crossed as the wind stirred in the cavernous chamber. The glow of the ancient runes painted light across his face, sharpening the line of his jaw and the cold certainty in his eyes. Noah stepped forward, his sword floating subtly at his side, pulsing with quiet strength.
"No powers," Renjiro said. "At least, not at first. We start with raw skill. If you can't hold your own in that, you're not ready for anything else."
Noah nodded. "Fine by me."
He took the blade in his hand—not raised, not aggressive. It felt heavier than it looked, not in weight but in responsibility. This wasn't a fight to win. It was a fight to be seen.
The circle of Bearers watched silently. Jaya's eyes were unreadable. Elijah leaned forward slightly, tense. Amara clutched her Crescent, the soft glow of it washing over her fingers. Even Azrin, the silent one, opened a single eye.
A beat passed. Then another.
Renjiro moved first.
Fast.
His feet barely touched the stone as he closed the distance. His strikes were sharp and brutal, each one a probe for weakness. Noah parried, pivoted, adjusted. He wasn't as fast. But he was steady. The sword moved with the grace of something older than he was, and soon sparks filled the arena.
Steel met steel, echoing in the cold silence.
Renjiro's technique was polished. Disciplined. He fought like someone who had learned the hard way, who bore scars for every inch of strength. Noah fought differently—less refined, but instinctive. His body moved like it had done this before in another life.
Renjiro launched a low sweep, forcing Noah to leap back, then lunged with a thrust aimed at Noah's heart. Noah twisted, slamming the side of his blade against the attack and pushing it wide. A rippling shockwave burst out from the impact.
"Not bad," Renjiro muttered, leaping back. "Still holding back?"
Noah exhaled. "Just learning."
He advanced now, the zweihander sweeping wide, arcing with the force of crashing waves. Renjiro ducked, spun, countered—but barely. A flicker of something passed over his face. Not fear. Respect.
Then, with a silent cue, the energy shifted.
Renjiro's Mirror appeared behind him, a shining disc of reflected light that shimmered like liquid silver. It cast no shadow.
Noah responded. He opened the lantern inside himself, calling upon the sword not just as a weapon, but as an extension of will. It didn't glow. It breathed.
Power surged. The air grew denser. Sparks turned to streaks of fire.
Renjiro's next strike was a blur of mirrored echoes—six reflections slashing at Noah from every direction. Noah crouched low and spun, the sword humming with harmonic force as it carved through the illusions. One struck his shoulder—he staggered, rolled, then came up swinging.
Their blades met mid-air, locking for a breathless instant.
"You've got power," Renjiro said through gritted teeth. "But power without control is just noise."
Noah's eyes narrowed. "Then let me show you harmony."
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. The lantern pulsed once.
He stepped forward, cutting with a rhythm that mirrored something divine. The ground cracked beneath his feet. Every swing of the sword carved arcs of kinetic energy that slashed through stone and echo alike. The Mirror cracked.
Renjiro countered with a blast of light from the Mirror, but Noah raised his free hand and willed the light aside. The lantern drank it. Then he surged forward, sweeping low and high in a perfect dual strike.
Renjiro blocked low—but missed the high feint. The flat of Noah's blade slammed against his ribs, hard.
Renjiro staggered, dropped to one knee.
Noah stood over him, breathing hard. He didn't raise the blade again.
Renjiro looked up. And smiled.
"Enough."
The light dimmed. The energy collapsed.
Noah lowered his blade.
Renjiro stood for a moment, breathing heavily. Then he walked forward—and extended a hand.
"You're not just talk. You earned this."
Noah took the hand.
A murmur of approval passed through the circle. Elijah gave a slow nod. Amara looked relieved. Jaya simply closed her eyes for a moment, thoughtful.
"The Circle accepts you," she said. "For now."
Noah almost smiled.
But something inside him stirred. Not the sword. Not the lantern.
A presence. Noah stood in attention, the energy was large, overwhelmingly large. And he just injured one of the bearers.
Far away. Faint. Like a heartbeat echoing through the world.
Elijah noticed the shift in his expression. "What is it?"
Noah looked toward the mountain ceiling. "Something's coming. I don't know what, but… it's close. Renjiro... stay here you're injured."
Jaya turned her gaze to the darkened archways above. "Then we prepare."
Suddenly, the chamber shook.
A low rumble, followed by a sharp crack above. Dust fell from the ceiling. The runes flared red.
A massive claw tore through the wall—scaled, black, and dripping with ink-like ichor.
Roars echoed beyond it. Not one. Many.
"Breaches!" Elijah shouted, unslinging his relic.
"Already?" Amara whispered, her Crescent pulsing.
Noah tightened his grip. The lantern flared with light.
"Then the trial isn't over," he said, eyes narrowing.
And with that, he rushed toward the breach.
The first beast emerged—towering, serpentine, with jagged armor and glowing crimson eyes. It screeched, shattering stone and will alike. Noah readied his sword, his hands trembling with nerves. Amara put her hand on Noah's shoulder, calming his nerves a bit.
The Bearers moved into formation.
Elijah wielded a radiant longbow strung with threads of golden light, each arrow forged from his own spirit essence. He loosed one, and it streaked through the darkness like a shooting star.
Amara raised her Crescent, now fully bloomed into a glowing disc. She whispered a prayer, summoning waves of lunar energy that poured forth like moonlight given form.
Jaya opened a weathered spellbook floating before her, its pages inscribed with sigils that flickered with cosmic fire. She began incanting, and the air shimmered around her, forming burning halos.
Azrin, silent as always, unsheathed twin obsidian daggers that distorted the air. With a blink, he vanished into shadow, only to reappear behind a beast, blades flashing with silence and death.
Noah gritted his teeth. The lantern pulsed harder.
He rushed forward to meet the oncoming horde.
And just beyond the breach—hidden, not yet visible—something vast watched him.
A presence more ancient than breath.
And it was waking.