Valse, now watching from the main planet, observed quietly. "This will be interesting," he thought. "One of them has overcome his situation. The only challenge left for Vultra now is to face the Yin itself— the core of this training. Let's see how this unfolds."
The scene shifted to Vultra. He walked up the spiral steps carved into cosmic stone, each one echoing with divine silence. At the summit, the Yin being stood, its very presence chilling and void. It didn't move or speak. It simply existed—a being forged from the heartless indifference of the gods. Cold, emotionless, driven by nothing.
Vultra paused, gazing at the still figure. Then, without a word, he launched forward, hurling his chained twin katanas toward the Yin being with deadly speed. The being did not move. Instead, it calmly lifted a single finger. A wave of crushing pressure slammed Vultra to the ground. The weight was unbearable—his limbs trembled, his breath failed, and his bones ached under the divine gravity.
But in his despair, he saw it—a single tear falling from the Yin being's eye.
Vultra's own eyes widened. "Why... does the Yin have emotions?" he whispered.
That glimpse shattered his doubt. Drawing upon his indomitable will, he forced himself upright, blood dripping from his hands as he reclaimed his weapons. He dashed forward once more, pain screaming through every nerve.
The Yin being responded now, summoning torrents of deadly Yin energy in sharp, fluid waves. Vultra twisted and flipped, dodging by a hair's breadth. The being's face now shifted slightly—frustration? It summoned monstrous beasts formed of pure Yin.
Vultra, unflinching, infused his katanas with Yin energy of his own. As he met the beasts head-on, his blades sang through the air, cleaving them down one after another in a flurry of crimson and black. His assault continued until the Yin being descended personally, charging at him like a silent storm.
Just as Vultra finished slaying the last beast, he was struck by a devastating blow. Blood erupted from his mouth and nose; bones snapped and organs twisted from the sheer impact. He was flung through the air, skidding violently across the battlefield. He gasped for breath, barely able to move.
Using one of his katanas as a crutch, he forced himself to his feet again. He glanced down at his bloodied hands, trembling. "I can't beat him in raw power… and his skill is beyond mine," he muttered. "But I just need to get close…"
He gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around his weapons. "Yin Blood Art," he whispered.
His dripping blood fused with his Yin power. His hair turned blood-red, and a furious aura enveloped him. He surged forward with renewed fury.
The Yin being, now sensing something unfamiliar, summoned elite warriors of its own—high-ranked manifestations of darkness. Vultra met them without hesitation, slicing through each one with deadly grace and precision. One after another, he felled them until only the last remained. With one final strike, Vultra ended it.
"Is that all?" he shouted, eyes blazing.
But the Yin being remained silent. Then, without a word, it summoned another horde—larger, more powerful, relentless.
Vultra was drained, but he still stood tall, head held high. "All this… isn't enough to stop me. I am Vultra Ludenworth!"
A surge of power erupted from within him. His aura flared with brilliant energy. He sliced through the horde with wild determination, every motion fueled by his pain, his resolve, his promise to overcome. The Yin being, now caught off guard, stepped back.
In a bold move, Vultra hurled his twin katanas directly at the Yin being. It dodged—but the katanas curved mid-air like heat-seeking missiles. Simultaneously, Vultra vanished, phasing out of existence and even halting time for a split moment.
The Yin being couldn't locate him—only the katanas chased it. It tried to disintegrate the blades, but at that exact moment, Vultra appeared before it.
The being braced for a final slash… but instead, it was embraced.
Vultra hugged it tightly.
"You can rest easy now," Vultra said softly. "Leave your worries to me. I will bear them."
The Yin being trembled. Around them, ghostly echoes of Vultra's past selves formed a circle. The Yin being, overwhelmed by emotion, began to cry again—this time, freely.
"All this while… I was consumed by emotion…" it thought. "I think… I'll rest now. Let Vultra handle it for me…"
The Yin being slowly dissolved, merging with Vultra as he held it tightly. As the fusion completed, Vultra stepped back. The Yin entity shimmered like liquid light, then transformed—taking Vultra's shape.
It flowed into him completely.
Vultra hovered gently above the ground. The entire Yin domain folded in on itself, condensing into a single glowing ring. Vultra reached out, took the ring, and placed it on his finger. A calm silence followed.
"I now have perfect control of the Yin," he whispered. "Now… I'm waiting for Leo."
He stepped through a swirling rift, vanishing.
Meanwhile, in another domain, Leo stood face-to-face with Fantasy Leo—his younger, arrogant, idealistic self.
(Fantasy Leo: A representation of Leo's past dreams and innocence. He embodies Leo's heroic ambitions, his unwavering optimism, and his belief that everything could be saved with pure will and idealism.)
Fantasy Leo grinned, stepping closer. "So you're the real Leo… the one who abandoned his dreams, his pride, and even his fantasy of being a hero," he said mockingly.
Leo didn't respond. His eyes were cold, but calm.
Fantasy Leo scoffed. "Let me guess. You think you're stronger now? Without those dreams? Without that burning heart?" His tone sharpened. "Then show me."
He burst forward, blades drawn, spinning with deadly elegance and dream-fueled power. His strikes painted trails of golden light, unreal and divine. Leo met the assault with cold precision, parrying each blow with disciplined control.
Clang! Slash! Boom!
The battlefield lit up as the two clashed—a war between emotion and reason, dream and reality.
Leo used only defensive motions, absorbing every blow without striking back.
Fantasy Leo snarled. "Why aren't you fighting back?! You think you're better than me?!"
Leo muttered, "I'm not here to defeat you. I'm here to understand you."
Fantasy Leo froze mid-motion. "What…?"
Leo continued. "You're the part of me that dared to dream big. That believed in justice… that believed in saving everyone. Even when we lost everything."
Fantasy Leo gritted his teeth. "So what happened? You gave up?"
"I had to make choices. Painful ones," Leo said quietly. "You were right. But I had to grow up. I had to become more than a fantasy."
Fantasy Leo shook his head. "Then let me remind you of what we once were."
He ignited his aura. A whirlwind of hope and brilliance surrounded him—wings of golden fire unfurled as he soared into the air, eyes glowing with righteous fury. "Fantasy Leo—True Form!"
He unleashed a barrage of dream-based magic: stars fell from the sky, constellations carved through the space around Leo. But Leo didn't flinch. He stepped through the celestial chaos, his expression unchanged. The stars broke upon touching his skin.
Fantasy Leo's eyes widened. "How…?!"
Leo walked closer. "Because dreams alone don't make you strong. It's when you carry them through the fire, even when they shatter, that they become real."
He opened his arms. "Come back to me."
Fantasy Leo looked conflicted. His aura flickered. "You… still believe?"
Leo nodded. "I always did."
Fantasy Leo fell to his knees, tears flowing freely. "I just… wanted us to keep dreaming…"
Leo knelt, touching his shoulder. "We will. Together."
The domain trembled as Fantasy Leo dissolved into golden mist, merging into Leo's chest. A faint glow circled his hand—a memory ring of dreams rekindled.
Suddenly, the domain warped again. The air grew thick with disciplined wrath. From the dark emerged another Leo—taller, broader, wearing a black military coat. Lieutenant Leo.
(Lieutenant Leo: This version represents Leo's ruthless commander-self during his war-filled years. Born from necessity, he embodies pure discipline, tactical instinct, and cold efficiency. A protector who sacrificed humanity for strength and order.)
He saluted. "Soldier. Step forward."
Leo narrowed his eyes. "So… it's you now."
Lieutenant Leo walked with sharp discipline, eyes like daggers. "You've grown weak. Emotional. You embraced dreams again? How foolish."
Leo stood firm. "You were born from war. From the days I had to make cold, brutal decisions."
"Exactly," Lieutenant Leo said. "And I was the strongest version of us. The one who never hesitated."
"You also forgot how to live," Leo replied softly.
Lieutenant Leo didn't respond. He simply drew his obsidian blade. "Combat test: begin."
Without another word, he lunged forward. Each swing was calculated, lethal—formed from battlefield experience and raw tactical perfection. Leo parried, gritting his teeth under the overwhelming pressure.
Lieutenant Leo pushed harder. "Don't falter. Or die."
Leo's arms trembled. His strikes were slower. Lieutenant Leo disarmed him, kicking him to the ground and placing the blade to his throat.
"You've already lost," he said flatly.
But Leo smiled. "Not yet."
With sudden clarity, he flipped the blade from Lieutenant Leo's hand using a hidden palm strike and tackled him.
They tumbled down the hill, fists flying. No weapons. No techniques. Just raw, primal struggle between survival and surrender.
Eventually, both lay still, panting. Leo whispered, "I needed you… when we were surrounded by enemies… when we were betrayed…"
Lieutenant Leo slowly sat up. "But I was never meant to stay forever."
Leo nodded. "You helped us survive. But now, I need to do more than survive."
The soldier's eyes softened. For the first time, he smiled. "Then carry my discipline. Without my cruelty."
"I will," Leo promised.
Lieutenant Leo stood, saluted again, then faded into shadows, leaving a black ring on Leo's other hand. Leo stood up slowly. "Two down…"
But the domain twisted again.
Monk Leo floated down next—a peaceful, meditative version of himself in flowing robes, eyes closed, aura radiating balance.
(Monk Leo: He is the spiritual anchor, born during Leo's time of retreat and emotional stillness. Representing inner peace, harmony, and self-awareness, Monk Leo reflects the part of Leo that sought detachment and serenity over conquest and conflict.)
"You have come far," Monk Leo said. "But you're still clouded by rage and pride."
Leo exhaled. "I know."
"To master balance," Monk Leo began, "you must give up control."
Leo clenched his fists. "That's the hardest part."
Monk Leo raised a hand, summoning an entire spiritual garden, complete with flowing rivers of memory and towering trees of thought. "Let us begin."
The meditation began. Monk Leo guided Leo through ancient breathing techniques, memory recalls, emotional suppression, and surrendering control of the ego. As the minutes passed, Leo began to glow—his internal energies stabilizing like yin and yang in perfect harmony.
Monk Leo placed a hand on Leo's chest. "Your path was never just power or victory. It was understanding."
Leo bowed his head. "Thank you… for reminding me of who I was when I sought peace."
Monk Leo nodded. "May you find that peace even amidst war."
He dissolved into glowing petals that wrapped around Leo, forming a radiant white ring on his finger. Three rings now glowed: dream, war, and peace.
But the final domain cracked open like a mirror shattering.
And from it emerged Hollow Leo.
(Hollow Leo: The darkest reflection—this Leo was forged from Leo's hatred, guilt, and suppressed emotions. He embodies the Leo who lost everything and felt nothing. A husk of power with no morals or dreams, born when Leo considered abandoning all identity to become pure destruction.)
He floated with no aura, no emotion. Just empty eyes and endless pressure. Even the ground beneath him withered into black sand.
Leo froze. This one was different. The others had purpose. This one was… void.
"You shouldn't exist," Leo muttered.
Hollow Leo didn't speak. He simply raised a hand, and the entire dimension collapsed into a vacuum of silence. Then he appeared before Leo, fist crashing into his stomach.
BOOM!
Leo was sent flying. Bones cracked. Blood spilled.
He struggled to breathe. "You're… not just a version of me…"
Hollow Leo emerged from the dust, walking slowly. "I am what you become when you feel nothing. When pain becomes apathy. When hope dies."
His voice was eerie, layered, as if a thousand regrets echoed through it.
Leo roared, activating his yin and yang forms, balancing all three previous rings.
Hollow Leo remained unimpressed. He raised his arm—and absorbed the attacks directly.
"Even your new harmony is hollow," he whispered. "Because deep inside… you still hate yourself."
Leo's eyes widened.
The truth stung. Buried beneath dreams, discipline, and peace… was shame.
Hollow Leo summoned a massive scythe made from collapsed dimensions and charged.
Leo braced himself, taking every blow. He refused to retaliate. Not with violence.
Instead, he let himself feel.
Every regret. Every mistake. Every death he couldn't prevent. Every moment he gave up hope.
Tears welled in his eyes as Hollow Leo slashed deeper.
And in that moment… Leo hugged him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "For leaving you alone all this time."
Hollow Leo froze.
"I hated you… because I was afraid you'd become me. But the truth is, I became you… when I stopped loving myself."
Hollow Leo trembled, scythe vanishing.
"I needed you to survive," Leo continued. "But now… let's heal. Together."
The hollowed form shook violently—before shattering into millions of obsidian feathers that flew into Leo's chest.
Silence.
Then, a fourth ring formed—pure black, but glowing with a flicker of light. Redemption.
Leo stood tall, the four rings orbiting him: Dream, War, Peace, and Redemption.
The trials had ended.
But in the distance, the Yin realm itself began to quake. Something far older than any Leo stirred. Something that had watched. Judged. Waited.
Leo turned, eyes narrowed.
"Now I face what's next…"
Find out next chapter—when mortals stand at the gates of gods, and destiny itself hangs in the balance.
Stay tuned!