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Edward fell.
"How pathetic… can't even celebrate," he muttered through a crooked smile as the world spun around him. "Well. This is the first step to avenging my friends." His grin stretched until his eyes went blank, and darkness claimed him.
When consciousness returned, it was slow and heavy, as if the world itself was weighing him down. The roar of water filled his ears. He opened his eyes to mist curling like ghosts over slick stones, each one glistening with river spray. The air smelled of wet stone and moss, of minerals buried deep in the earth, sharp and alive. Each breath carried a tingle of cold water and the distant roar of the waterfall, so powerful it rattled his chest.
"Oh… my head," Edward groaned, pressing his palms against his skull. "That old man… I'll show him who's the real boss soon."
He scrambled upright, hands brushing wet rock. Mist blurred his vision, turning the banks into ghostly shapes. There was no visible path—just the endless roar of water and a wall of stone rising beside him.
"Anyone… hear me? Help me! I'm trapped here!" he shouted.
A stick shot down from nowhere, striking his back with excruciating force. Pain seared through him like molten iron. He screamed, collapsing onto the stones.
"This dumb old man—always striking when I'm busy. I'll make him pay one day," Edward spat through gritted teeth, struggling to his feet.
The old man's calm voice carried over the roar of the falls:
"Well, brat, I know you're foolish… but not foolish enough to ask for help before trying yourself. I cannot even blame you."
He sighed, closing his eyes. "You have cleared the second path—the test of strength. Before the final trial begins, I am… bored. Can you sing a poem for me?"
Edward blinked. The man who had seemed solemn and impenetrable now shone with an uncontainable excitement. His grin spread like wildfire.
"I… studied literature in high school," Edward stammered. "I can try."
He took a deep breath, letting words flow unpracticed but heartfelt:
"When truth descends like autumn rain,
Ten hearts entwined, one soul remains.
Balance broken, shadows cease,
By the devil's fall, the world finds peace."
The old man's eyes softened. "Wonderful. Familiar… yes. But true. And yes—your behavior. It comes from all who taught you. Master Rose's lessons lingered here, did they not?"
Edward clenched his fists. "Back to the trial, then."
"The Trial of Courage begins."
The waterfall thundered louder, and the stone beneath Edward's feet trembled. Spray lashed his face. His heart raced. He felt sweat streak his temples, cold and wet from the mist. The wall of water parted, revealing a narrow path along the cliffside, slick and precarious.
Edward stepped forward, toes gripping the stone, eyes scanning for danger. At the end of the path, he saw a black throne carved from obsidian, the labyrinth etched into the stone beside it, and, embedded in the earth, the sword—this time glowing with pure light, stripped of the darkness he remembered.
"Ok… just pull the sword. Sit on the throne," he muttered, recalling scenes from movies he had seen.
"You have three chances," a voice boomed, echoing from the mist. "Fail, and you will never see the world again."
Edward swallowed. He approached the sword, hand trembling as he touched the hilt. Pain erupted like molten metal through his arm, spreading through his chest and legs. He screamed, body thrown backward, crashing into stone. Four ribs cracked under the force. His vision swam with red and white light.
"I… I can't give up. Everyone's counting on me," he gasped. "I will do this myself. But… can I pull it?"
The sword pulsed like it had a heart of its own. Rage and despair seemed to pour from it, whispering in his mind: I will destroy everything. I will make everyone pay. No one controls me.
Edward's laugh cracked his throat, jagged and unrecognizable. He tried again. Pain, tenfold worse, shot through him as if a thousand hammers struck simultaneously. His chest felt crushed. And then—a sudden calm. All rage, despair, and hatred vanished, leaving a strange emptiness.
"What… just happened?" he murmured, stunned. "Did I… lose control?"
But from the emptiness arose something stronger: hope. Justice. Determination. He rose again, eyes blazing.
"I must do it. I must bring justice."
He gripped the hilt once more. The sword yielded, sliding free with a whisper. No pain. No struggle. Only the weight of destiny in his hand.
From the mist, a spirit appeared, radiant and ethereal. "You passed," it said. "You risked your life when most would flee. For that, you are worthy. Thank you… for freeing me. I will accompany you on your journey."
Edward allowed himself a long, trembling smile. He raised the sword high. Spray from the waterfall glittered like shattered stars around him.
He swung.
And the world seemed to hold its breath.
To be continued.....