The Severance Grounds wanted them broken.
Walls twisted as The Lost Ones advanced, warping and contracting like the breathing ribs of some titanic beast. Statues lining the path turned silently as the group passed, empty stone eyes tracking every step. Faint whispers clawed at sanity.
Eryndor pressed forward.
His crimson eyes burned with cold purpose as the cursed corridor bent impossibly backward, dragging them into the same passage they had crossed minutes ago. A lesser leader would panic.
Eryndor simply raised a hand.
"Stop."
The Lost Ones froze, pale and exhausted. The Mana-Cursed Girl staggered, barely upright. The flickering aura boy clenched his fists to stay conscious. Even The Unborn shifted uneasily, chains grinding softly in the oppressive silence.
"We're trapped," someone whispered.
"No." Eryndor's voice cut like a blade. "We're being tested."
The whispers intensified, forming fragmented mockeries of voices they knew. The boy's own voice called from the shadows, begging him to give up. The girl heard the laughter of the House that had abandoned her. The Unborn heard nothing.
Eryndor heard one thing.
A faint echo of the Arbiter's cold words: You cannot win.
Eryndor smiled thinly.
He stepped toward the far wall and pressed his hand flat against the shifting iron. The labyrinth responded, walls screeching in protest as he poured raw mana into the breach point he had anticipated from memory.
The wall collapsed into dust.
Beyond lay a vast circular chamber.
The Oathbrand Sigil hovered at the center. A jagged, rune-etched relic suspended in a halo of fractured black light over a churning lake of liquified cursed mana. The weight of ancient power rippled outward with every pulse. Chains of obsidian anchored it in place, writhing and grinding like serpents in agony.
The air thickened.
The System's voice fell, harsh and absolute.
[Final Trial Initiated: The Severance Judge Awaits.]
The temperature plummeted as something stepped from the shadows behind the Sigil. The Severance Judge.
A towering, armored wraith bound in plates of black steel, its helmet crowned with shifting chains that dragged into the cursed lake. Crimson light blazed from within its visor as its voice echoed, deep and hollow.
"One bearer. Only one may claim the Sigil. All others will be erased."
The Judge raised a titanic sword forged of molten System code and pointed it toward them.
"Choose."
The Lost Ones recoiled in horror. Murmurs of panic erupted.
Eryndor stepped forward alone, cloak trailing behind him like a shadow.
"I choose myself."
The Severance Judge tilted its head slightly as if amused.
"So be it."
The ground trembled violently as the Judge advanced.
Eryndor's lips curled faintly. His mind raced, already shaping the plan.
The test had begun.
The Severance Judge struck first.
The massive blade tore through the air with an ear-splitting shriek. Eryndor ducked low beneath the arc, the raw force of the swing splitting the cursed floor where he had stood an instant before.
The Lost Ones stared in horror from the chamber's edge.
Eryndor moved.
The Judge advanced relentlessly, each step a seismic crash. Eryndor weaved between the colossus' strikes, not countering, not wasting energy, only observing. Patterns. Timing. Flow.
The Severance Judge paused and spoke.
"You run."
Eryndor's cold voice replied as he slipped behind a collapsing pillar.
"I wait."
The ground shuddered as the Judge's chains lashed outward, severing stone and metal alike. Eryndor barely rolled aside, his heart racing but his mind ice cold.
Direct combat was death.
He spotted his opportunity.
The unstable mana lake churned just meters from the Judge's path. The corrupted energy surged unpredictably. Even the System's constructs avoided direct contact.
Eryndor ran full tilt toward the lake.
The Judge followed, sword raised high for the killing blow.
At the last moment, Eryndor slid across the jagged floor and hurled an alchemy shard—the same forbidden relic he had hidden from the earlier chamber—into the ground between them. The explosion of cursed mana detonated, sending both of them flying.
Eryndor hit the ground hard but scrambled to his feet instantly.
The Severance Judge staggered for the first time, chains flickering violently as corrupted mana ate at its armor.
The Lost Ones gasped.
The Mana-Cursed Girl took a single step forward, power flickering wildly around her hands.
"Stay back!" Eryndor barked sharply. His gaze never left the Judge. "This is my fight."
The Judge roared, struggling to stabilize its form.
Eryndor struck.
He darted beneath the faltering construct, driving another alchemy spike into a fracture at the knee joint. The Judge staggered again.
With perfect timing, Eryndor vaulted onto its back, climbing the chains and tearing loose the cracked restraint covering the core under the Judge's chest plate.
The Severance Judge froze mid-swing.
Eryndor pressed his gloved hand to the exposed core and whispered with cold triumph.
"Checkmate."
A blinding crimson surge exploded from his palm, feeding his mana directly into the core's unstable weave.
The Judge convulsed violently, howled, then disintegrated into burning fragments of corrupted code.
Silence.
Eryndor stood alone in the center of the ruined arena, breathing hard, his cloak scorched and torn.
The Oathbrand Sigil floated silently down into his waiting hand.
The System voice returned, low and dangerous.
[Anomaly persists.]
[Risk Level: Omega.]
[Initiating Faction War Event Preparation.]
The ground trembled ominously.
Eryndor turned to his stunned faction.
"Move," he ordered without emotion. "We're not done yet."
The Lost Ones scrambled to follow as the chamber walls began to collapse inward, the Severance Grounds enraged by their survival.
Eryndor walked calmly at the front, the cursed Sigil burning faintly in his grasp.
The next trial awaited.