As Tristan moved through the forest, a sudden wave of crushing pressure bore down on him, causing him to buckle. His joints popped and his bones creaked, protesting the unbearable weight. He felt like an old man at death's door. The unexpected increase in gravity was like a monstrous hand pressing down on him.
His suit's alarms blared, and with each beep, blood erupted from his mouth, staining the ground. The veins on his arms, legs, and neck bulged grotesquely, his muscles straining under the immense pressure. As he endured the pain, he opened his mouth to scream but made no sound. He lost consciousness, only to be awakened again by the lack of air in his lungs.
With a deep inhale, the thick air rushed in like a flowing river. A burning, suffocating sensation washed over him—the air was so thick its viscosity was like water. Panic gnawed at his mind as he choked and retched.
For three long days, Tristan lay motionless, a pitiful figure beneath the unforgiving sky. A few predators roamed nearby, but the sight of him immediately turned them away. Hope was in his grasp, however, for the pain lessened, though the weight remained the same.
With an outstretched hand, he grasped a jagged rock and pulled himself forward, propelled by an unknown, defiant nature.
Move.
Each movement was a monumental effort, but he refused to quit.
Again.
His heart raced, and though he had no voice, a silent mantra echoed in his mind: Move. Move. Move.
Minute after minute, hour after hour, he pulled himself along, soon beginning to crawl on all fours. Slowly, his body began to change. His bones shifted, tendons stretched, and muscles adapted. Though he could see nothing and hear nothing, as he crawled, his other senses heightened.
He pushed with all his might, but with a final effort, he collapsed. Time passed, and he opened his eyes anew. Ignoring the pain, he crawled forward, propelled by sheer survival. The transformation was profound.
Within the void, the Dao Wheel stirred, surrounded by chaotic mist and holy radiance that gave it an otherworldly presence. The Dao Wheel shook, the void cracked, and the mystical energy surrounding it surged, seeping out and boring into Tristan's body. This act ignited something dormant within him. He didn't notice, but his body not only adapted but became more attuned to moving within the high pressure.
Weeks passed, and Tristan emerged from despair, now moving with the agility of a monkey. With newfound strength and speed, he wandered the forest like a ghost. As he navigated this alien tapestry, he realized there wasn't much danger. Before, he had to avoid entire areas due to the strange alien plant life and bizarre, horrific beings. But now, it felt somewhat peaceful.
But unbeknownst to Tristan, a great disaster was descending upon this land. As the days flew by, Tristan felt a strange coolness envelop his being. Gradually, his spatial sense—a world of black and white—became increasingly hazy.
On day 12, he encountered it. Within the haze, he sensed a creature of unfathomable strength. Holding his breath, he hid behind a massive tree and probed his senses toward it. The creature revealed itself with a roar, a sound that chilled him to the bone and echoed through the forest.
As it walked, a massive ancient tree in front of it made a clanking noise as its paws brushed against the trunk. Tristan froze as an outline of the beast became clear in his mind. It was a giant armored wolf. Its scales were white and jagged, but between the gaps, a deep blue radiance shone. This was the first time Tristan had seen color.
The beast roared again, and a swarm of small, armored bugs buzzed from the shadows. They surrounded the beast, their bodies emitting a faint blue radiance. Tristan took a step back and stepped on a twig. The world went still for a moment, then the beast roared. The wings of the bugs buzzed with intensity as they dashed toward him. His senses tensed as he felt the space packed around him. Tristan's muscles coiled. With a sudden, aggressive motion, he darted up a tree, then lunged forward like a shooting arrow.
As he moved upward, the bugs blocked his path, but with his staff in hand, he moved with deadly precision, carving a path to freedom. With the grace of a king and the demeanor of a roach, he ran away.
But the bugs were faster. Their wings buzzed with murderous intent as they closed in on him.
A desperate battle ensued. As the minutes passed, he desperately tried to fend off the bugs, but to no avail. His stick spun furiously, but they were quick and numerous, evading him effortlessly. Tristan moved again, weaving and bobbing through the forest, but he felt his energy drop in rapid succession. Every time he stopped running, he fought, and when it was too much, he ran. With no time to catch his breath, Tristan was at 1% in every confrontation and every retreat. With his senses stretched to the limit, he kept searching desperately for a place to rest, but it was to no avail.
"Why me?"
Two days passed just like that, and Tristan could be seen looking like a rabid dog, truly in a sorry state. But as if to add more troubles to his torment, twisted beings began to emerge from the mist. Their elongated limbs and grotesque faces would scare the dead back to the living, and the creatures shrieked in a terrifying chorus. They all lunged at him, but with practiced footwork, he dodged the clawing and biting of these horrific apparitions.
Just from that attack, Tristan saw that their movements seemed erratic and spontaneous. But they came rushing at him, so with a tired stance, he got ready to fight.
He quickly dispatched them, but more apparitions came out of the fog. But there was a change. Their ability to fight had increased. Though it was not drastic, it was still something to be worried about.
Time passed. An hour turned into two, and Tristan could be seen cornered like prey. He was completely and utterly exhausted, but the beings in front had become alarmingly powerful, their movements once erratic now precise and brutal. Tristan thought for a moment that he was fighting himself.
Without any warning, the seal protecting him from the atmosphere wore down. With 60% of this world's monstrous atmosphere bearing down on him, blood immediately rushed to his feet, causing them to burst. His flesh burst open, and his bones snapped. Tristan fell to the ground helplessly, his body falling apart.
The apparitions were shocked by this unexpected turn of events as they stared on. Within the void, the Dao Wheel spun frantically. Chaotic mist surged, and space was torn apart. Within the void, white mist seeped out and pervaded the area where Tristan lay. The Dao Wheel shook as laws and symbols echoed throughout the forest, shocking all the beasts in the surroundings.
The mist wrapped his body densely, making him look like a man covered in clouds. As the pressure increased, Tristan's bones made popping noises, like popcorn in a microwave.
The wild, mystical beings of the forest stared on in awe, their expressions strange. But after staring for some time, they gradually dispersed, but Tristan was still there, writhing in agony. The echoes of his agony were silent, unheard by all but himself.
A few hours turned into a day, and then into three. The healing mist dissipated, and Tristan suddenly sat up. A young man with a lean and powerful body, his exposed arms toned and lean, looked like they could dish out a deadly dose of force. But the eternal drain seemed to have doubled in power, because at the end of the day, the fatigue sank deep into his bones.
But surrender was not an option. He fought on, swinging his stick, dodging bites, and desperately trying to stay alive. Each moment was a struggle—a blur of movement and pain. He felt the sting of bites on his arms and legs, the weight of exhaustion dragging him down. Still, he pressed forward, fueled by sheer will.
The apparitions appeared the instant he started to move, and they attacked. He fought fiercely. But as the second day wore on, his strength waned. The fog thickened, and the sounds of the forest grew distant. His vision blurred, and the world spun around him. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony as the last remnants of his energy faded away. The oppressive silence engulfed him, broken only by the distant roar of the armored wolf. Tristan fought against the darkness closing in, but it was too late. He had given everything, and now, he lay defeated in the fog.
The fog separated, and the armored beast could be seen walking over. Its armored frame rattled as it did. As it stared at Tristan, its eyes flickered with an intelligent light. It then turned around and walked back into the fog, and as it did, the fog retreated.
Tristan's mind eased as his senses expanded. This temporary relief caused him to relax and his nerves to calm. This was the moment his senses went through a wonderful breakthrough. It was like the revitalization of a spring, like the rain seeping into the earth, a rebirth—a profound transformation.
As Tristan drifted off to sleep, an invisible wave of chemicals and signals emitted from his body, giving off a sweet smell. Twelve almost invisible threads came from the top of his head, but this transformation had yet to be complete as the fine hairs on his body transformed. The fine hairs grew branch-like structures, becoming signal receivers for the almost invisible antennas.
"Congratulations for completing the trial," a male fairy stood in front of Tristan, its body rippling with power.
A female fairy walked over, knelt down, and kissed Tristan's forehead. A silver light enveloped his head, and his wounds began to heal. His eyes grew back, and his ruptured eardrums were restored. The voice suppressor and the cloth around his eyes were removed. The two figures stared at him for a moment, then faded with the fog.
Sometime later, Tristan woke up.