Darkness swallowed Kai whole the moment the stone door sealed behind him.
There was no torchlight, no flicker of spiritual flame to guide his steps—only the endless void, and the sound of his own breath echoing faintly in the ancient corridor. The Obsidian Path was aptly named. Every stone underfoot seemed to drink light, and the oppressive silence pressed against his ears like water closing in from all sides.
Kai extended his spiritual sense, but even that felt muffled, blunted as though the very air resisted intrusion. He touched the hilt of his blade—not out of fear, but to anchor himself. He had walked through enemy camps, dueled rogue cultivators, and endured the pain of rebirth in the Memory Crucible. But this… this silence made him feel small.
Then, a voice echoed around him—not a whisper, but a command.
"Trial One: The Burden of Flame."
A red glyph flared into existence beneath his feet, illuminating a wide circular chamber. At its center stood five stone pillars, each bearing a different object: a worn sword, a shattered mask, a bloodied scroll, a broken ring, and a single crimson feather.
Above the pillars hovered five ghostly images—each a version of himself.
Kai stared at them, recognizing the faces immediately. Each was a path he could have taken. Each was a life the flame had shown him during his Memory Crucible trials.
One Kai wore the robes of a tyrant, his eyes cold, ruling a burning city from atop a mountain of corpses.
Another was dressed in white, calm and gentle, a healer who knelt beside a dying child, unable to save her.
The third stood drenched in blood, his blade broken, his sect destroyed—revenge written across his hollow gaze.
The fourth wore chains, kneeling before a foreign emperor, his power stolen, his will broken.
And the last… the last stood smiling, surrounded by friends and family, his flame extinguished by peace and comfort.
"Choose," the voice demanded. "The path you reject… is the one you must bear."
Kai's heart pounded.
Each item on the pillars represented a life. A regret. A truth he didn't want to face.
He approached the bloodied scroll first. It represented the healer—compassionate, selfless, and powerless when it mattered most. He then turned to the feather: the peaceful life, the one that required him to abandon the struggle, to live in obscurity.
"No," he whispered. "I can't choose peace. Not while this world burns."
He walked past the tyrant's sword. Power without purpose.
Past the chains of submission. A life surrendered.
And finally, he stopped before the broken ring.
A symbol of love lost. Family torn apart. A life lived for vengeance.
"I can't become that," he murmured.
But as he turned away, the scroll—the healer's path—drew his gaze again. It was the one life where he had saved lives, even if he couldn't save them all. The one life where he didn't wield the sword first.
"I reject… the life of the healer," Kai said at last. "Because I know I'll never be able to save everyone."
The moment he spoke, flames erupted around the pillars, and the ghostly images vanished—except for one.
The healer remained.
His eyes filled with pain. "So you've chosen the sword over the soul."
Kai stepped forward, gripping his blade. "I've chosen to carry the weight of that choice."
The healer ghost rushed at him, and for the first time, Kai realized the truth of the trial—not a symbolic rejection, but a battle with the burden itself.
Their blades clashed, one real, one spectral, yet each strike felt real, cutting deep into Kai's spirit. The healer's strikes were precise, aimed at his hesitation, his guilt, his fear. But Kai fought not to destroy—but to endure.
He bled, yes—but he did not fall.
With a final cry, he drove his sword into the ground, channeling the Flame Mark. A pulse of golden-red fire burst outward, consuming the illusion.
Silence fell once more.
Then, the voice returned.
"Trial One… passed."
The chamber darkened again. Kai fell to one knee, breathing heavily.
"Four trials remain."
And somewhere, in the depths of the Obsidian Path… something stirred.