Krain gripped his sword tightly, standing alone within the chamber walled by flowing darkness.
Here, even time refused to breathe — silent, cold, yet somewhere within the void, a heartbeat echoed faintly.
"So this is my final trial…"
he whispered to himself, taking a step forward.
Then suddenly, the shadow upon the wall stirred — and came alive.
It followed his form, rippling across the stone,
and from it emerged a figure — his own reflection.
But its eyes glowed a deep crimson, and its breath faded like cold smoke.
"What are you?"
Krain demanded.
The Shadow let out a low, hollow laugh.
"What am I? I am you — the rage you hide,
the fear you deny, the desire you bury, the vengeance you crave.
The more you reject me, the stronger I become."
Krain raised his sword. "I do not fear you."
The Shadow smiled faintly.
"Do you not?
Every time you deny me,
you break your own strength.
Without me, you are only half a man."
Between them, the air ignited — a storm of shadow and flame.
Krain's blade sliced through the darkness,
but every wound sealed itself again.
The Shadow struck back, and pain like fire coursed through his body.
The battle raged not in the room, but within his own soul —
wrath, despair, fear, and hatred all came alive.
And with every strike he landed,
another memory faded —
his childhood laughter, the trust of friends —
all burning in the fire of his fury.
He fell to his knees, lowering his sword.
His breath trembled,
and in his eyes burned two opposing flames — red and white.
"If you are part of me…"
he whispered softly,
"then I will no longer deny you."
The Shadow fell silent.
Then it dissolved like mist,
and seeped into his heart.
Pain, fear, and rage all merged into one quiet rhythm.
After a single breath, he rose.
The fire in his eyes had dimmed,
yet a new stillness dwelled within him.
He had not defeated his Shadow —
he had accepted it.
A whisper escaped his lips:
"True strength lies in accepting the darkness within."
The chamber grew silent.
At that moment, Krain's eyes
turned deep and sorrowful,
like the dim clouds of a moonless night.
There was no triumph — only understanding.
Peace, bought at the cost of his own darkness.