"What bullshit…?!" Zagan cursed under his breath, glaring at whoever had designed this trial.
On the central platform, three people stood on three medieval-style gallows, nooses tight around their necks. One was his stepmother, the second his father, and the last… his mother. All three had already passed away before he traveled through time.
If he didn't free them in time, the wooden trapdoors beneath their feet would drop, and they'd hang in midair, suspended by the ropes.
When Zagan activated the Chrono Singularity Engine to leap into this era, the only blood relative he left behind was his sister. Before departing, he had transferred all property and assets into her name, ensuring she would have a lifetime of wealth and the freedom to live as she pleased.
"Are these their real souls… or just illusions meant to test me? If they're real… does that mean the Soul Realm has always existed, and humanity simply never had the means to reach it?!" His mind raced. He didn't know what to believe anymore.
And now, the trial forced him into an impossible choice: Save one, and watch the other two hang.
It reminded him of a question from his old life: If your mother and your wife were drowning, who would you save first?
The bridges were long but he could reach the central platform with his enhanced body, more so now that soul energy too is augmenting it. In theory, he could sprint across in 5 minutes and free all three, as long as he could move without interruption.
The keyword being: without interruption.
He looked up at the sky: Dark shapes circled above, like they were waiting. Below, the grey, churning sea hinted at dangers lurking just out of sight.
Abyssal beasts — Creatures of the Soul Realm alongside the Eidolon beasts. The difference between them was simple: Abyssal beasts corrupted soul energy into abyssal energy, poisoning the very fabric of the realm. Eidolon beasts, in contrast, mirrored Humans and Draens, wielding soul energy and harvesting soul essence.
Even crossing the bridge safely in ten minutes would be a challenge with beasts prowling above and below. Trying to do that in five minutes? Yeah… right.
Zagan slapped himself hard across the face, the sound echoing through the mist. A red handprint bloomed across his cheek.
"When did you turn into such a damn wimp, Zagan?" he muttered under his breath
Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath, forcing his thoughts to steady. They're already dead. That was an undeniable fact. As the trial's description had said, this was his chance to say a final goodbye, to make peace with the ghosts that still haunted him.
And among all his regrets… one name rose above the rest.
His gaze drifted toward the gallows, locking onto the white-haired woman standing there. Even bound by the noose, she held a quiet grace — aristocratic, elegant — her white hair swaying lightly in the spectral wind. When her eyes met his, a faint smile touched her lips, calm and unyielding.
His stepmother. Serena.
The one person he could never forget. The one regret he could never bury.
There was no doubt in his mind which bridge he would take.
But before that, he needed to check his status panel… or in this case, his Soul Record.
Zagan closed his eyes and focused, letting his consciousness sink into his Soulspace.
Moments later, faint archaic letters began to shimmer in the void before him, forming lines of text that pulsed with a strange, ethereal glow.
— ✦ —
[ SOUL RECORD ]
Name: Zagan Omen Lysander
Race: Human
Rank: —
Soul Core: Seed Form
Traits: [ Paradox ] [ Temporal Flow ] [ Unthinking Blade ]
Essence Class: —
[ Corebound Modules ]
◆ Weapon Module: [ Kuro no Zai ( 0 ) ]
◆ Utility Module: [ — ]
— ✦ —
Hmm… There wasn't much to see in his records anyway. Most of the real abilities: his Essence Class and the powers tied to it, would only awaken after he cleared the trial.
His gaze drifted toward the Traits section. Those were passive gifts, either something one was born with or acquired through the scars and experiences of life.
Zagan's eyes narrowed slightly. One of them caught his attention.
Paradox.
Curious, he focused on it, wanting to know what it truly meant.
— ✦ —
[ Paradox ]
Description:
A living contradiction — one who exists between reason and chaos, truth and falsehood. The more paradoxical your existence becomes, the higher you ascend beyond logic itself.
— ✦ —
His lips twitched. "The hell's that supposed to mean?!"
Ascend beyond logic? Since when was he that kind of guy? He was a kind and honest man. Hmm…meh, whatever. Systems like this can make mistakes.
He sighed and moved on, shifting his focus to the second trait — Temporal Flow.
— ✦ —
[ Temporal Flow ]
Description:
A trait born from meddling with the flow of time itself. It grants you an altered perception — the world may seem to slow or quicken according to your state of mind.
The change lies not in time itself, but within you.
— ✦ —
"Oh… finally, something useful." He nodded, already guessing why he had been granted such a trait.
Then he focused on his last trait — Unthinking Blade.
— ✦ —
[ Unthinking Blade ]
Description:
A trait born from one whose soul resonates with the blade itself. You move not through thought, but through instinct. Mastery over the sword, especially the katana, comes naturally with each swing. Energy flows through your weapon as if it were an extension of your being.
— ✦ —
Now this… this felt like a reward for all the years he'd spent training with a blade. How long had it been? A decade? Maybe more.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder — how exactly did these traits even work?
The only explanation AndroNet had given him was simple: they were passive.
"Forget it… time to start my trial." He left the Soulspace. He already knew what the first rune inscribed on his katana was… and it looked absolutely sick.
He itched to test it on the overgrown beasts circling the skies, but how much soul energy it would drain from him, he had no idea.
Zagan finally stepped toward the three arrays before him. Each functioned like a teleportation point, sending him to one of the smaller platforms. Which platform he'd reach depended entirely on the array he chose.
The platforms: west, south, and east — were colored black, white, and blonde. Black led to his mother's gallows, white to his stepmother, and blonde to his father. The arrays mirrored the same hues, as if reflecting the hair color of the person they corresponded to.
Without hesitation, Zagan entered the white array.
"Huuu…" He exhaled deeply. Ten minutes to cross the bridge and free his stepmother. Five for both his father and mother. It was either Do or die.
He glanced at his right hand. A marking was etched on his arm; a blade engulfed in flames, yet broken. A soul sigil, but not his own.
Zagan narrowed his eyes, then—
The array flared with a blinding light. When it faded, Zagan was gone.