A month had passed since I first became a slave.
The pain hadn't gone away. The wounds from the soldiers' blades had long since closed, but others had taken their place—bruises from falling rocks, burns from hot tools, lashes from the overseers.
My immortal body healed, sure, but slowly. And the pain always returned.
Worse than the physical pain, though, was the waiting. I still hadn't unlocked my second ability—Soul Connection. And my necromancy? Useless.
No matter how hard I tried to summon the dead or channel souls, nothing worked. It was like the system was keeping it locked from me.
I began to suspect there was a reason for that.
One morning, a horn blared through the camp. We were assembled in rows like cattle, lined up under the cold gray sky.
Two masters approached—Master Wilten, his crimson helmet glinting with dried blood, and Master Irey, her silver hair flowing behind her like a banner.
Both were powerful mages and known for using slaves like pawns.
They walked slowly down the line, inspecting each of us.
"You, you, and you," Wilten barked, pointing.
Then his finger landed on me.
"You're coming with us."
Five of us total were chosen. I could see the fear in their eyes. It wasn't just another mining job. This was different. Dangerous.
We were shackled and led onto a creaking wooden ship docked at the edge of a dead-black sea.
I'd never seen water so dark—it was as if the ocean itself refused to reflect the sky.
"This is the Path of the Dark Waters," Master Irey said, standing at the front of the ship as we departed.
"Those who fall into these waters don't die," Wilten added, gripping the railing. "They transform.
Twisted by the power of the 99 realms. Realm creatures—soulless monsters that serve no one and devour everything."
"They are not of this world," Irey continued. "They come from broken dimensions, places ruled by chaos. And if you fall… you join them."
I stared at the waters, unmoving, as the wind howled past. I didn't need to speak to understand what this was. A trial.
A Spartan trial.
This realm wasn't real. It couldn't be. I remembered reading about the Spartan Trials in one of my mother's stolen books. Simulated realms meant to test the strength and will of warriors and mages. Fail the trial, and you die. Succeed… and you gain unimaginable power.
But no one knew how to escape them.
The ship rocked as we approached a jagged, obsidian mountain jutting from the sea like a broken tooth.
The masters docked it at a rusted pier, then led us inland toward an abandoned fortress clinging to the side of the cliff.
"You'll earn your food tonight," Wilten growled. "Work first. Eat later."
The slaves were split into tasks—mopping bloodstained floors, patching up cracked walls, scrubbing dishes. I was assigned to kitchen duty, alone.
I worked in silence, scrubbing pans and watching the two cooks prepare the evening's stew. That's when I saw it.
A thin vial. Glass. Barely visible in the cook's hand.
He poured its contents into the pot—no hesitation. Poison.
I glanced at the doorway. No guards. No eyes.
I made my move.
While the cook was distracted, I slipped behind the spice rack, grabbed the remaining vial, and poured more of it into the backup pot. Just enough.
If they were going to poison us, I'd return the favor.
Dinner came. The food was served in silence. The slaves were forced to sit by the walls while the two masters and their guards took their seats at the long, crumbling table.
They ate without question. Spoon after spoon.
And then the world shattered.
A monstrous roar ripped through the hall, shaking the stone walls. Plates clattered to the ground. One of the guards stood up, his face pale.
"Commander!" he shouted. "Something's breached the outer gate!"
Another strike shook the ship as the 2 masters and slaves come out.
The wooden doors exploded inward as a massive creature burst into the fortress.
It was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Its body was a shifting mass of black ooze and jagged bone.
Tentacles writhed from its back, each tipped with glistening claws. Its face—if you could call it that—was a swirling maw of eyes and teeth.
"A realm creature," Irey hissed. "One's followed us from the waters."
The guards drew their weapons. Spells lit the room in flashes of fire and light. But the creature was fast. Unnaturally fast.
One guard was sliced in half before he could scream. Another was impaled, dragged screaming into the beast's twisting belly.
Chaos erupted. The table flipped. The food spilled. I dropped to the ground, crawling behind a pillar as magic exploded around me.
The other slaves ran. One leapt out a window and vanished into the darkness below.
Wilten fought with a blazing axe, cleaving into the creature's mass. Irey chanted a high spell, her voice echoing as chains of ice erupted from the floor.
But it wasn't enough.
The creature screeched, shattering the ceiling. Stone rained down, forcing everyone to scatter. I took my chance and ran.
I darted through the corridor, past the dying guards, past the broken kitchens and torn banners. My heart thundered in my chest, my breath ragged.
This was my chance.
My escape.
But before I grabbed the spare boat the creature struck again as it broke half of the ship.
While I was still on the half of the boat, my body was limp as I was on the brink to being unconscious.
If I could survive, if I could make it through this trial… maybe I could find a way to break the system's grip on me.
Maybe even unlock Soul Connection. Or my necromancy.
And I wasn't going to die before I took control of my fate.
I awoke hours later on a snowy beach. The waves lapped quietly at the frozen shore, and towering mountains loomed in the distance.
My eyes hardly open I lips barely smile and in a dry voice.....
Well.....at least I'm not a slave. I laugh quietly as I lost contentious on the cold ground.
The game had changed—and I was still playing.