It was still dark, the first light of morning yet to appear on the horizon. Arin Vexar sat cross-legged in front of his home, in the pale illumination of the faintly visible moon, his face grave and still. The bitter wind blew the high grass, but his eyes were turned inward.
He had woken up early—far earlier than needed. Sleep had long become elusive since the ruin. Every time his eyes drifted shut, the echo of Garvak's roar and the metallic tang of blood stirred behind his eyelids. But it wasn't fear that haunted him. It was the realization: he had died before but now won by accident. He had survived by luck.
And luck was a cruel, unfaithful partner.
"No more of that," Arin whispered to himself, eyes hardening. "From now on… I control the board."
He summoned the System.
[SYSTEM INVENTORY OPENED]
Four glowing icons hovered in the void-space window, softly rotating. Among them were two that caught his attention immediately.
[IRON SWORD (SEALED)]
Grade: Normal
ATK: 9
Durability: 7
Details: An iron sword that is just normal. The weapon is sealed. Unseal to unlock more details.
[LEATHER ARMOR]
Grade: Normal
DEF: 10
Durability: 15
Details: A fine leather armor made from an F-grade monster's hide.
Softly, Arin coaxed the sword into his lap. It was a dull-looking sword, grey metal with chipped edges. The hilt, however, pulsed. It was as if it held its breath.
"Sealed, huh?" he grumbled, tracing his finger along the hilt. His thumb rested on the [UNSEAL] option.
A long pause.
He stared at the button with narrowed eyes. If this sword came from that place, then unsealing it without knowing the cost could be a trap. It might use a rare key. It might attract something worse. For now, it was better to wait.
"A sword isn't what makes you strong," Arin murmured. "It's how you wield it."
He set the blade aside and equipped the leather armor in its place. Smooth, not coarse as he had expected. Surprisingly light. It shaped itself around his body as if it were his own, closely fitted and yet flexible.
He flexed his arms, punched with a light blow, squatted down. Comfortable. Durable. Better even than those tattered clothhe'd had on when he'd come here.
He sat back for the second time, placing the sword on his lap. Grass rustled. In the distance, crickets chirped.
Something, however, was in the air.
It started with silence.
Not the peaceful kind. No—the unnatural kind.
The crickets suspended mid-chirp. The wind ceased. Even night seemed to be in suspended breath. Arin's muscles braced themselves. The leather armor weighed him down. His heart's pulsing resounded louder in his ears.
Then—
[WARNING: DEMON LORD TRIAL – PHASE I STARTING IN 00:00:60…]
A harsh, crimson-lit glow emanated from his System, colouring the grass beneath him with a bloodred tone. Arin rose, sword still clutched in hand. The soil beneath him pulsed softly—like a sympathetic heart attempting to harmonise with his.
The countdown continued.
[00:00:45]
Arin gazed out into the star field. Something was… wrong. Off, in a subtle way. Twinkling too quickly, too wildly. And then, suddenly—
A whisper stroked his thoughts, cold but soft: "Zarel."
His face hardened.
Garvak's mangled corpse flashed behind his eyes.
Then… the silver-eyed man. The dream that wasn't a dream. The chains. The ruined throne.
What the hell was he becoming?
[00:00:30]
He exhaled slowly, pushing the memories out. No time for questions. No time for fear. Only determination.
"...This time, I won't survive by mistake."
The countdown stopped
[00:00:10]
A growling, monstrous sound came forth from the ground. The grass convulsed. Earth cracked in helical fissures. Black energetic veins crawled out in twisting strands from the ground, creating a sigil beneath Arin's feet...
He didn't flinch.
All this was only felt by Arin, to others nothing special has happened.
[00:00:03]
The stars above him shimmered like glass—
[00:00:02]
—then shattered.
[00:00:01]
[TRIAL COMMENCING…]
***********************************************
Reality ruptured.
Void-black energy erupted out of the ground, engulfing Arin in a globe of living darkness. For an instant, he was nothing. No body. No breath. Only falling—weightless, endless, cold.
Then—
Pain.
He crashed hard upon rocky outcroppings, air knocked out of his chest. He grunted, scrambling up on his knee. The atmosphere clung thick with sulfur and rotting moss. Glowing embers flickered in the darkness like lost fireflies.
He was surrounded by a ruined castle overtaken by time. Fractured walls, taken over by dark vines and churning fissures. Shadows curled up as smoke in the corners.
[DUNGEON ENVIRONMENT: "THE DEMON'S LAMENT" – TUTORIAL TIER]
[OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE UNTIL DAWN]
[PENALTY FOR FAILURE: DEATH]
Arin sucked in a breath. His pulse thudded hard. This wasn't just a trial.
It was a graveyard waiting for names.
Then came the voice—monotone, mechanical, yet cruel in its apathy.
[PHASE I BEGINS. TRIAL OF WILL AND WAR. SURVIVE. ADAPT. OR DIE.]
His grip tightened around the sword. "Bring it on."
The wind changed direction once more—but this time it accompanied a noise. Wet. Ripped. Breathing.
Out of darkness ahead, three forms coalesced into the dim light of the dungeon's unhealthy illumination.
Demonic hounds.
Their bodies were grotesquely deformed, bulging with muscle in places, empty in others. Flesh was seared, hanging in tattered strips like burned wax. Jaws opened wider than was possible, mouths full of iron spikes that passed for teeth. Eyeballs pulsed red with blood, staring at Arin.
He felt it instantly—these weren't like Garvak.
These were predators.
They lunged without warning.
Rolling over into his side, Arin swung the metal sword. It caught on the ribs of one hound but did not slow it down. Another approached him—he stepped aside and smashed his elbow into its nose, then drove the sword halfway into its throat.
Blood was gushing. The hound shriek
And the third passed them from behind.
His claws ripped down his back. He screamed, stumbling ahead, as agony scorched down his back. The leather armor saved him from most-but not completely.
Gritting his teeth, he turned to face all three again.
His breathing was shallow. Mana stirred inside him—wild, unstable, but present.
He focused. Then leapt into action.
He darted between broken pillars, forcing the hounds to chase. One crashed into a wall, stunned. Another tripped over rubble. Arin capitalized, striking with a downward slash that severed its spine.
Two down.
But the third pounced.
Its claws tore across his arm, sending his sword clattering to the ground. He barely dodged the next bite. Pain blurred his vision.
He reached for the blade—and the hilt pulsed.
[UNSEALING CONDITIONS MET – IRON SWORD EVOLVING…]
His eyes widened as the sword began glowing—a dark mist tracing along the blade. The black runes appeared on the hilt, curling around in brand-like flames.
The sword glimmered, reforming.
[NEW WEAPON: SWORD OF DORMANT WRATH – UNCOMMON GRADE]
ATK: 16 | DURABILITY: 22
Passive: Amplifies basic attack when user is injured.
Arin's hold closed. The hound attacked again.
He hit once.
A burst of power emanated from the blade, ripping a hole in the floor of the dungeon. In mid-air, the hound was cut in two, blood and bone splashing upon him.
Silence ensued.
He gasped in the stunned silence that ensued, his hot sword still clutched in his fist. His side was cut, but his eyes burned with grim determination.
"I'm done being prey."
But peace didn't last.
The dungeon trembled.
Dust trickled from the broken ceiling. Arin turned just in time to see a massive door ahead—twenty feet tall, sealed with chains and runes—begin to unlock.
The system interface flickered again.
[WAVE 2 APPROACHING – 00:09:59]
Arin limped toward the now-open path, shoulders tense, eyes burning.
His voice came out hoarse, but defiant.
"One night… just one night. I can survive this."
To be continued...