The echoes of the previous trial still lingered as students gathered once more, murmuring amongst themselves about their physique grades. The results had been nothing short of astonishing.
"Did you hear? Gary Amberson—Astral Embodiment! That's the best recorded physique in history!" Cedric exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe.
"Luna Ashborne went beyond even that. Transcended Form. The first in centuries," Ingrid added, shaking her head in disbelief. "A living legend in the making."
Others whispered, repeating the names and ranks, while some cast envious glances at the chosen few. Meanwhile, Dawn stood at the edge of the crowd, his thoughts elsewhere. His grade had gone unnoticed, unmentioned, as if he weren't even present. And perhaps, in a way, he wasn't.
Twisted Mortal Shell.
The words echoed in his mind, heavy and suffocating. Mortal Shell—the foundation of all physiques. But his was twisted, broken in a way none could understand. He clenched his fists, feeling an emptiness gnaw at him. What does it mean to have a broken foundation?
His body was here, standing among the others, but a part of him was still running, as it always had been.
---
Instructor Valeris's cold, authoritative voice cut through the murmurs like a blade.
"Enough chatter. The next trial begins now. The Trial of Origin."
Silence fell instantly. Even the most confident among them tensed.
"Every Prime has an Origin. It is the source of your power, the proof of your existence. To awaken it, you will be sent into a room devoid of all things—no light, no sound, no sensations at all. There, stripped of all external senses, you will face the truth of yourself."
A few students swallowed audibly. The idea of absolute nothingness was terrifying in a way few had ever considered.
"In the void, one and only one truth remains: The Truth of Self. If you can firmly affirm your existence, your Origin will awaken, and you will draw forth the Primal Origin Light from your core. The stronger your affirmation, the greater your light."
The grading system was simple but ruthless:
1 foot of light – Barely an ember, a weak Origin.
10 feet – A standard showing.
50 feet – Elite-level talent.
100 feet – A phenomenon. Only recorded a handful of times in history.
"You will enter one by one. Success or failure—this will determine your path forward."
One by one, the students were led into the void. Some followed nervously, some with confidence, others had an expressionless face.
---
Dawn stepped forward when his turn came. The moment he crossed the threshold, the world vanished. It was as if reality had been swallowed whole.
No light. No sound. No sensation.
Even the weight of his body seemed to fade. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the feeling of air against his skin—gone.
There was nothing.
His breath hitched. His mind panicked for an instant, his body seeking some sense of grounding. But there was none. His presence in this space was a contradiction. What am I?
Time lost meaning. Was it seconds? Minutes? Hours? He could no longer tell. The absence of everything felt like drowning in a sea of endless black, with no surface to reach for.
Slowly, thoughts began to surface, unbidden.
Who am I?
He had always run from this question ever since that fateful moment. He had built walls, buried himself in a sea of knowledge, pretending the past didn't exist. But here, in this void, there was no distractions, no knowledge, nothing at all.
Who am I?
Images flashed through his mind—fragments of a childhood he had long locked away. A voice, distant yet unbearably familiar. A presence he had buried beneath years of avoidance.
A beast lay within him, dormant yet breathing. He had caged it, suppressed it, hoping it would fade away. But here, stripped of all else, he could feel it staring back at him from the depths of his own soul.
The walls he had built began to crack.
A flicker of light—small, trembling—emerged within the void.
Dawn inhaled sharply.
His Origin had responded.
But it was not gentle, not calm like the others. His light was twisted, raw, seething with something ancient, something unresolved.
The void did not reject it. It merely watched.
Dawn shuddered. The beast within stirred.
What if I stop running?
The thought lingered, unanswered, as the light continued to grow.
---
In this trial of origin, the atmosphere was charged with a sense of purpose as the instructors meticulously recorded the primal Origin Light of each student. This moment was pivotal: it was not just an evaluation but a rite of passage, a visual representation of each student's inherent potential. The glass panels served as both a canvas and a measuring tool, capturing the essence of the students as they stood before the holographic display.
As the instructors observed the array of holograms, their initial pitch-black forms represented the unknown qualities within each student, waiting to be unveiled. When the first hologram began to glow softly, it marked the awakening of that individual's primal energy. The instructors quickly noted the name inscribed on the glass, documenting the illuminating moment when the student's unique light first broke through the darkness. The glow, although limited to a radius of 10 feet, was a significant event—the initial sign of the student's potential and capabilities coming to life.
With each successive student, the instructors recorded variations in the intensity and spread of their Origin Light. Some students exhibited a rapid and vibrant glow, suggesting a powerful primal energy, while others revealed a more subdued brightness. Each observation was meticulously logged, reflecting not only the individual strengths and weaknesses but also the diverse array of talents present within the group. As the trial continued, the instructors remained vigilant, understanding that each student's Origin Light was a fundamental aspect of their identity, resonating with deeper insights about their journey ahead.
The instructors, assistant instructors to be precise, gossiped with each other about the students. Many of them had awakened their Primal Origin Light. None were remarkable neither were thwy dismissed able. They gossiped about the elites and tried to predict their results. Especially Gary, a high noble and Luna... The princess known for her popularity among people.
But no one spoke of Dawn.
No name was recorded.
Yet, in the unseen shadows, the Grand Instructor watched.
His gaze remained locked on a single door—the one Dawn had entered.
Something within stirred, a quiet acknowledgment.
"Interesting."
---
To Be Continued…