Elias stepped forward as the massive stone doors sealed behind him, the air thick with the scent of ancient parchment and candle smoke. Unlike the others, his battlefield wasn't a war-torn arena or a graveyard of fallen warriors.
It was a table.
A grand stone table, set at the heart of a vast chamber lined with shelves of scrolls and golden artifacts. At the center of the table sat a single deck of cards, the edges flickering with a strange energy. Across from Elias, a figure in white robes waited, their face hidden behind a featureless golden mask.
The voice of the temple resonated from the walls.
"Strength is not only power of body, but power of fate. A warrior may lift a blade—but will fortune guide his strike? Will fate favor him in his hour of need? Step forward, and let the cards decide."
The masked figure raised their hand. The deck shuffled itself.
Elias smirked. "A game, huh?" He flicked one of his own cards between his fingers. "My kind of fight."
The figure gestured to the table. Five cards appeared before each of them, hovering above the stone. Elias studied his hand. Each card pulsed with hidden potential.
Then the figure spoke. "We wager not coin, but consequence. Each card drawn changes fate. Do you accept?"
Elias tapped the table. "Deal me in."
The Game Begins
The figure moved first. They flipped a card—
A spectral beast erupted from the stone, its form shifting between a lion and a serpent. It roared, lunging toward Elias.
He barely blinked. Flick. A card snapped from his fingers, glowing. A bolt of lightning cracked from the ceiling, striking the beast mid-air—turning it into golden dust.
The masked figure nodded. Another card flipped—
A wave of crimson fire burst across the table. A test of endurance.
Elias grinned. He flipped a counter-card, summoning a shield of flowing water that doused the flames.
The game escalated.
Each round, the masked figure raised the stakes. The cards began affecting reality itself—the floor cracked, illusions of warriors rose and fell, the very air shimmered with unstable magic.
Elias kept up. Barely. His heart pounded as he played counter after counter, watching as the odds stacked higher and higher.
Then—he hit a wall.
He reached for his next card—and the deck vanished.
The voice spoke again.
"Strength is not just playing the right hand—it is having nothing, and still playing on."
Elias tensed. His deck was gone. He was empty-handed.
Across the table, the masked figure flipped their final card.
A towering, ethereal knight emerged, blade raised high. A force Elias couldn't counter.
Or could he?
He laughed.
"Nothing in my hand?" He spread his empty palms. "Good. That means I can't lose."
Elias reached forward—and grabbed a card from the enemy's side.
The masked figure froze.
Elias flipped it.
A coin appeared mid-air—spinning.
The golden mask tilted slightly, as if considering.
Then—the coin landed.
And the knight vanished.
The temple shuddered.
The masked figure nodded, standing slowly. The cards faded. The game was over.
Elias had won.
The voice echoed one final time.
"You have played fate itself—and fate has played fair. You are worthy."
A golden light swirled around Elias' hands. When it faded, he held a single enchanted card—one unlike any he had before. His gift for passing the trial.
He smirked, slipping it into his deck. "I'll take that."
The doors behind him swung open.
Trial three—complete.
---
Now, only Reed remained.
His trial would be different. He was the healer—the protector.
And the Trial of Strength would demand something far greater than force.