The darkness trembled as Ezra and his doppelgänger clashed, their blades locked in an unrelenting struggle. Each strike reverberated through the air like a thunderclap, the weight of their battle resonating in the very fabric of reality. The shadowy figure before him was more than a mere reflection—it was a manifestation of his deepest fears, his doubts, and his insecurities, and yet, in this moment, it was also the perfect opponent.
Ezra's grip tightened on his sword, the sharp edge cutting through the dark air with precision. His mind was clear now, free from the whispers that had tried to drown him. The battle was no longer about proving anything to the entity lurking in the shadows. It was about proving something to himself.
"You think you can defeat me?" the doppelgänger taunted, its voice a distorted echo of Ezra's own. "You've always been weak. No matter how hard you try, you'll never be enough."
Ezra's chest tightened, but he didn't let the words reach him. He had heard them too many times before—voices from the past, from enemies, from his own fears. But he had learned to silence them. He had learned to push past the noise and focus on what truly mattered.
"I don't need to be enough for anyone but myself," Ezra said, his voice steady, even as the shadows pressed in closer, threatening to consume him.
The figure smirked, its eyes glowing a sickly red. "Then prove it."
With that, the doppelgänger lunged at him, its movements swift and precise. Ezra barely had time to react as their blades collided once more, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the air. The ground beneath them cracked and shattered, sending debris flying in all directions.
For a moment, everything seemed to slow down. Ezra's heart pounded in his chest as the clash of steel echoed in his ears. He could feel the presence of the shadows closing in around him, but this time, they didn't feel like enemies—they felt like an extension of himself, a test of his strength and willpower.
His mind raced as he searched for an opening. The doppelgänger's movements were erratic, unpredictable, but Ezra knew it well—because it was a reflection of him. Every strike, every move was a mirror of his own abilities and flaws. If he could anticipate its next move, if he could defeat his own doubts, he would win this trial.
The figure came at him again, but this time, Ezra was ready. With a swift motion, he sidestepped the attack, his blade slashing through the air to meet the doppelgänger's midsection. The blow landed, and the figure staggered back, a dark mist swirling around its form.
For a moment, Ezra thought he had won. But then, the figure's form flickered and distorted, and it was gone—vanished into the shadows. Ezra's heart skipped a beat.
"Not this time," he muttered, his eyes scanning the darkened surroundings.
The shadows began to swirl around him, forming shapes and images that taunted him. He saw faces—familiar faces of those he cared about, twisted in anguish. Escanor, Meliodas, Ban—all of them were there, trapped in the web of darkness, their eyes pleading for him to save them.
Ezra's breath caught in his throat as the shadows whispered once again. "You are not enough to save them. You never were."
The images of his friends flickered and disappeared as quickly as they had come, replaced by something far darker—a vision of his own failure. He saw himself, alone and broken, standing in the ruins of a once-thriving world. There was no one left. No one to turn to.
"You failed them," the voice echoed, the weight of the words pressing down on him. "You could have saved them, but you weren't strong enough."
Ezra gritted his teeth, fighting the wave of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him. He had faced trials before—battles with demons, with illusions, with his own insecurities. But this… this was different. This was the trial of the soul, a test of his very essence.
"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the deafening silence. "I'm not going to fail them. I won't."
The shadows pulsed, as if in response, and then, suddenly, they were gone. The vision of failure evaporated, replaced by an overwhelming light. Ezra squinted as the brightness enveloped him, the oppressive weight of the trial lifting.
A figure materialized before him, bathed in radiant light. It was a woman, tall and graceful, with a crown of light resting upon her head. Her presence radiated power and peace, and Ezra felt a wave of calm wash over him as she spoke.
"You have passed the trial, Ezra," the woman said, her voice soothing and warm. "You have faced your fears, your doubts, and your darkest thoughts. But you are not defined by them."
Ezra's breath caught in his throat. "Who… Who are you?"
"I am the embodiment of the will to overcome," she replied. "I am the light that guides those who have the strength to fight, no matter the darkness that surrounds them. I have watched over you, and I have seen your growth. You are ready."
"Ready?" Ezra repeated, still reeling from the events of the trial. "Ready for what?"
The woman smiled, and the light around her brightened. "The trials you have faced were but a small part of the path that lies ahead. The true battle awaits you now, Ezra. The darkness is coming. And only you can stop it."
Ezra's heart pounded, the weight of her words sinking in. The darkness. It was always there, lurking at the edge of his vision. But now, it wasn't just a vague threat—it was a reality. A force that could tear the world apart.
"You're not alone in this," the woman continued, her gaze soft yet resolute. "The strength you have gained will guide you, but you must trust yourself, trust your allies, and trust your heart."
Ezra nodded, feeling a surge of determination rising within him. The path ahead was unclear, but one thing was certain—he wasn't going to let the world fall into darkness.
He wasn't going to fail.
[Countdown to the Main Story: 135,200 Hours]