The silence was stifling.
A thick black fog seeped from the broken coffin, consuming the floor like spreading oil. Torches fitted to the walls trembled, spitting, their flames spluttering against the freezing tide that swamped the room. Stone groaned. Chains clinked in the blackness somewhere and Arin stood still—his breath caught between the primal urge to run and the whisper of fate dragging him forward.
He wasn't just afraid.
He was terrified.
His right hand trembled around the short sword, white-knuckled, the beat of the pulse echoing against the inside walls of his ears. "Trial One," the system had cautioned. But this was no trial—it felt like a tomb being cracked open, not just of something ancient, but something angry.
Something aware.
Boom.
The noise was low, wet, and metallic—rotting flesh scraping against corroded metal. The fog intensified. And through the broken mouth of the coffin, it emerged.
A bent form, obscured in a haze of smoke and grime, shuffling along the brink.
Its legs were asymmetrical—one plated to the bone, the other exposed, skeletal. Ribs lay exposed, flesh appearing only in patches, with iron chains speared directly into breastbone and spine, bearing glowing red runes. Its right hand ended in a jagged, rusty sword, welded to the arm like a parasitic growth. Its face, or the remnants of a face, was covered with a dented knight's helm, welded to melted flesh.
It slowly raised its head. The torches went blue.
Then it spoke, voice a jagged whisper across dimensions.
"Demon... Lord... Return...?"
Arin's blood froze.
[Fallen WARDEN: GARVAK THE SHACKLED]
[RANK: F+]
[STATUS: DORMANT AGGRESSION - ACTIVATING...]
[WARNING: HIGH THREAT DETECTED.]
The moment shattered.
Garvak lunged.
Arin's instincts screamed. He dodged to the side just in time for the beast to swing down upon him with its sword-arm. The floor erupted—stone splintered like glass, and a shockwave hit Arin against a pillar.
Gasping for air, he rolled onto his feet, sword barely in hand. Chunks of dust swirled. The beast swivelled the head towards him, the red runes on the body blazing more brightly.
"Demon…Zarel…?"
Arin's lips parted in a silent gasp. That name. That cursed name.
How—?
He didn't have time to think.
The second strike came. He dodged that as well—barely. The sword scraped along the ribs of the cutting tunic to give him a shallow bloody gash.
It burned.
Not with pain—but with corruption.
[BATTLE PHASE I: SURVIVAL]
Arin's mind kicked into overdrive.
"I cannot battle against it head-on. No, not like that. My sword won't even strike that armor."
He glanced about the space—pillars, rubble, cracks in the floor.
He could work with that land.
The next minutes were chaos.
Garvak pursued him relentlessly, its movements slow but inexorable—like death given form. Arin darted behind stone columns, forcing it to overextend. He led it through broken archways, ducked under swings that shattered statues, baited it into swiping at walls to cause cave-ins he narrowly escaped.
Garvak pursued him relentlessly, its movements slow but inexorable—like death given form. Arin darted behind stone columns, forcing it to overextend. He led it through broken archways, ducked under swings that shattered statues, baited it into swiping at walls to cause cave-ins he narrowly escaped.
But he was tiring himself out.
Sweat had gotten in his eyes. His legs ached. His left arm throbbed from the earlier roll. His breathing was shallow, and the knife he clutched in his hand was becoming heavier every second.
He was not winning. He was surviving.
And that too would not last long.
The Warden charged ahead, red runes burning more intensely.
It was adapting.
"Dammit… I'm going to die in here."
Just as Garvak raised its blade for a downward swing meant to cleave him in two—time stopped.
Or… it felt like it.
The air trembled, as though space cracked in his ears. A cold presence coiled around his spine.
"Will you fall so easily… Demon Lord Zarel?"
The voice wasn't his. Not system. Not memory. It reverberated deep in his blood.
Arin's eyes widened.
Something inside him broke—not with fear, but with defiance.
His mana erupted.
A rhythm came from the center of his body—raw, wild, and otherworldly. It was not the mana he had recently learned to control. It was older. Wilder. Like blackened fires.
[Demon Eye – Partial Awakening]
His vision twisted.
Suddenly, he could see—not just Garvak, but its flaws.
A gash along its back. A line down the weathered blade. The center—hidden behind its ribs—glistening with black light.
"That's it..."
Arin continued to battle, no longer blindly. He dodged, rolled aside from a blow, and made a strike at the shoulder of the Warden at the shining joint. Sparks flew. The monster roared.
Another blow—now under its arm. He pushed against the inside of its knee. Garvak stumbled.
"I don't have to destroy it with a single hit."
"I just need… to take it apart."
***********************************************
Arin led the creature back toward the pillar he had marked earlier—a crumbling structure, cracked at the base.
He ran past it, leaping over fallen rubble. Garvak followed—and as it raised its blade, Arin threw a jagged chunk of debris upward.
It struck the weakened stone.
The pillar suddenly groaned and fell.
Rock and dust rained down upon the ground where the Warden stood, burying him in a shroud of broken stone. It screamed—its voice twisting to an unnatural pitch—while struggling in the pile.
But Arin had already departed.
He ran towards the core, pain screaming in his legs, and clambered up on the rubble. He looked at the glistening black core within the body of Garvak, now barely visible.
He drove the sword deep with a shriek.
"Fall, damn you—!"
The core cracked—then shattered.
A shock of black mana spread outward, propelling Arin backward in a doll-like state. He crashed against the ground, the shock knocking the air from his body.
Garvak screamed for the last time.
And then it disintegrated—ashes and smoke vanishing into the air.
Silence returned.
Arin hacked up a bloody mouthful. His arms ached like they had been broken. His vision blurred.
But he remained alive.
Then, a chime echoed in the chamber—clear and cold.
[TRIAL 1 – CLEARED]
+800 EXP
LEVEL UP! (Lv. 1 → Lv. 3)
NEW TITLE ACQUIRED: "FIRST-BLOODED CHALLENGER"
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: "CONFESSION Of THE DEAD" – ALLOWS ACCESS TO FRAGMENTS OF MEMORY FROM SLAIN FOES.
Arin blinked.
"Confession… of the dead?"
Before he could think further, the far wall groaned—and a stone door slowly began to slide open, revealing a dark stairway descending into the earth.
Trial 2 awaited.
But Arin wasn't ready yet.
He groaned and sat up, cradling his ribs, blood trickling from his lip. His sword was cracked. His armor torn.
And yet… he smiled.
A small, breathless, incredulous smile.
"There's 99 more of these, huh…?"
"Tch… better get back before Stella throws another lecture."
He limped forward, leaving behind the broken battlefield—and stepping toward whatever came next.
Unaware that in the shadows, something still watched.
«DING
[FULL BODY RECOVERY INITIATED]
The system sent out an unexpected message to Arin
Immediate the deep wound which where supposed to last a while where finally gone
And now he didn't have to work about giving is parents and Stella a fright.
[DEMON LORD TRIAL BEGINS IN 24hrs]
To be continued...
Note: Arin got the sword he used from the sword of the corpse which where rampant in the ruin. Among them he chose a pretty good sword with was in a better condition compare to the rest. A better condition but not a perfect condition, as it was still rusty, I mean what do you expect for a sword which has been lying dormant in a ruin for God known when, But enjoy.