The air was thick with the acrid tang of sulfur and the metallic bite of fear. Erin's boots crunched over gravel as he followed Sage Akira into the shadowed gorge, the colosseum's roars fading behind him. Before them stretched a nightmare of chaos—a serpentine course of swaying rope bridges strung over bubbling pits that hissed like angry serpents. Above, the sky churned with storm clouds, their underbellies lit by the occasional burst of firecrackers that sent showers of sparks raining down. The air itself seemed alive, vibrating with the jeers of a faceless crowd that hurled insults and rotting fruit from the sidelines.
A Vigil squad stepped forward, his lantern-and-spear emblem glinting on his black obsidian robe. "I'm Taro Matsumoto, and I will be your guide on this trial at Captain's order" He thrust a sealed scroll into Erin's hands, his voice sharp and unyielding. "Memorize the message. Deliver it at the finish line. Fail a single word, and you're out."
Erin split the wax seal. The parchment fell open—utterly blank, no ink, no scars. His fingers hovered over the void, heart drumming. A lifetime of empty pages grinned back. "Blank," he scoffed, too fluent in the silence of letters.
"The message is here," Taro whispered, his breath freezing the sweat on Erin's neck. "Gate forming at Sector 9—shadow spires, no horns."
Around him, the other contestants stiffened, their faces pale under the flickering light. A noble in gilded gloves fumbled his scroll into the mud, his lips moving soundlessly as he tried to commit the words to memory. Before anyone could protest, Taro's voice cracked like a whip. "GO!"
Erin surged forward, the blank scroll clutched in his fist. The first rope bridge groaned under his weight, its planks slick with something sticky and faintly glowing. Beneath him, the pit churned with a viscous, crimson liquid that smelled like burnt sugar and decay.
A firecracker exploded to his left, the shockwave rattling his teeth and sending a shower of sparks into the air. The noble behind him screamed, his balance faltering as he tumbled into the pit, his gilded gloves flashing like dying stars before Taro pulled him to safety with his teleportation abilities.
The unseen crowd roared, their voices a cacophony of mockery and malice. "Gravedigger!" someone bellowed, their words dripping with venom. "Bury yourself and spare us the stink!" A rotten pear exploded against Erin's back, its pulp clinging to his tunic as he pressed on. He repeated the message in his mind like a mantra, each word a lifeline— Sector 9. Shadow spires. No horns.
Ahead, a mercenary in leather armor froze mid-stride, her eyes darting wildly as a chain of explosions erupted around her. "Was it… Sector 7? Sector 7?!" she muttered, her voice rising in panic. She veered left, toward a false finish line marked by a flickering lantern, and was quickly escorted away by Taro who seems to be with them no matter where they are.
Erin's boots hit solid ground, his chest heaving as he stumbled toward the finish line. Taro is already there with their captain waiting for their arrival.
The surviving trio—Erin, a hulking blacksmith's apprentice, and a sharp-eyed thief—stood panting, their faces streaked with sweat and soot.
"Recite," Taro commanded, his voice cutting through the silence.
The blacksmith stepped forward first, his deep voice trembling. "Gate at Sector 9. Shadow towers, no horns."
"hmmp, Towers? You're out." Taro's tone was final, and the blacksmith's shoulders slumped as he was led to a holding area, where the other failed contestants waited under the watchful eyes of Vigil members.
The noble thief smirked, her confidence unshaken. "Gate at Sector 9—shadow spires, no horns." She paused, her smirk faltering as doubt crept into her voice. "Wait. Was it… with horns?"
"Incorrect." Taro's voice was cold, and the noble thief's triumphant grin turned to ash as she was escorted to join the others.
Erin stepped forward, the words etched into his mind like his father's final breath: "She's your world now."
"Gate forming at Sector 9." His voice carried over the silence, steady and sure. "Shadow spires. No horns."
Taro's gaze narrowed, as he studied Erin. "Why Sector 9?"
Erin met his stare, his jaw tightening. "My sister's age. Nine when our mother died."
A beat. Then, a nod.
Sage Akira materialized beside Erin, his disdain thawing into something sharper—interest. "Only one passed. But the Vigil needs more than memory." He gestured to the holding area, where the blacksmith and noble thief stood among the other failed contestants. "You two. Step forward."
The blacksmith and the noble thief exchanged glances, their faces pale but hopeful. Erin tightened his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"Prepare for the final trial, and pray you survive it" Sage said, his voice echoing like a death knell.