The battlefields in the illusion bled away like fading echoes, each fading memory pulled by the unraveling threads of the trial. One by one, the students began to awaken, as if the fabric of the world that had been twisted around them finally loosened. But the instructors, standing silent and unmoving, took no action, watching only as the exhausted, broken forms of their students materialized one by one from the depths of the illusion.
The space was tense with stillness. The air was charged, not with the intensity of the trial itself, but with the weight of what had transpired. And though the students remained unaware, there was an unspoken expectation in the air: the trial was over. Yet, something about it lingered.
Dawn was among the last to awaken, not first as one might expect, nor the last, but somewhere in the quiet middle. His eyes remained closed as his senses returned. The cold, sharp feeling of the battlefield was still clinging to him. He could almost still hear the shouts, the clang of weapons, and the desperate breaths of those who'd fought beside him.
But this was the present, and it was different.
Slowly, Dawn felt his body. His muscles ached, his mind hazy, but the familiar pull of reality began to return. His thoughts, like a storm of flickering images and fragmented memories, bled into his awareness.
He didn't open his eyes immediately.
The battlefield still loomed in the back of his mind. And as much as he tried to shake it off, memories rushed in like a flood—his past. The violence. The death. The moments that made him who he was. The burning chaos, the faces of those who had perished in the endless war, the anguished cries that haunted him, and the blood—always the blood.
The memories were relentless, unyielding, but there was something in them. Something that made him pause before he fully awoke.
---
Dawn's mind flickered back to the battle in the illusion. What had he done?
The answer was blurred. He wasn't sure. He had frozen. He had faltered. He had been weak, hadn't he? He remembered his knees giving way, the overwhelming flood of memories, and the battle… and his inability to move.
And yet, he hadn't died.
There had been death, the death of others. He could still feel it. In the illusion, many had fallen, their screams still echoing through his mind. And yet, Dawn, despite everything, had somehow survived. He didn't know how. He didn't know why. But he had.
---
It wasn't the trial that held him—he realized—it was his own past.
And in that moment, he understood.
The battlefield had never been an illusion to him. It had always been real.
---
As Dawn continued to linger in his half-conscious state, he became aware of the others stirring. The first to awaken was Gary, his face pale and drawn, his body slumped on the floor. His expression betrayed nothing as he slowly sat up, his brow furrowing in confusion.
Gary, like Dawn, had survived the trial. But unlike Dawn, the weight of it seemed to sit heavily on his shoulders, his lips tight as he breathed deeply. He glanced around, his gaze fleeting over the other students as if trying to piece together what had happened. A subtle unease rippled through him, but nothing—nothing that could be seen.
---
Next was Luna, her face a mask of control. Unlike Dawn, her body had been more composed in the illusion, but the weight of the battlefield was something that even she could not entirely dismiss. Her breath was shallow as she came to, blinking against the stark, sudden light.
---
The others followed soon after. Cedric, looking more irritated than shaken, stood up, brushing dust from his clothes as if the trial had been nothing more than a fleeting nuisance. Ingrid, the scholar, however, was the last to rise, her eyes clouded with frustration. She had tried to think her way through the chaos, had tried to control the situation—but it had overwhelmed her nonetheless. She pushed herself to her feet with a grimace, quickly scanning the room, her sharp eyes calculating.
---
But as each student stirred and began to regain some sense of reality, one thing became apparent: the trial, the battlefield, had claimed more lives than any of the instructors had anticipated.
Most had died in the illusion. Their failures came swift, violent. Some had given in too early, their lack of control costing them everything. Some, like Cedric, had charged headlong into the chaos, only to be swept away by the overwhelming force of the situation. And still, others had simply crumbled beneath the weight of their own internal battles.
---
Yet unbeknownst to all but one... Dawn had not died.
He remained motionless, still submerged in the flood of his thoughts. He had been broken, faltered, yes. But not dead.
---
The instructors, silent as ever, continued to observe the awakening students. Valeris' gaze flickered over each of them, his eyes steely and unreadable. He made no move to speak, nor did any of the assistant instructors.
But there was one present—hidden among the shadows—whose eyes gleamed with curiosity.
The Grand Instructor. The one who observed from afar. The one who never spoke unless absolutely necessary. His eyes were fixed on the scene before him with keen interest, a slight, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"What have you been through, child? Even if a illusion constructed with so many instructors isn't the actual battlefield, who can recognise it? Not wven veterans of war can! How curious!"
---
As the last of the students stirred, no one moved to speak. The silence grew heavier with each passing moment.
None of them knew what had happened—what the trial had truly tested. They didn't know that the boundaries of their lives had shifted, that a single moment had changed everything for them.
But the Grand Instructor knew. And his quiet amusement simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the next stage of their trials.
---
In the silence of that room, the students were left to wonder. They were left to piece together what had just happened.
But the Grand Instructor had already seen what would come next.
And he couldn't help but wonder: how long until the true test of their wills would begin?