Ringing...**
A sharp, searing ring—like a massive needle had pierced through his skull and struck his brain.
It overwhelmed Kalm's ears, drowning out every other sound.
For a moment, there was nothing but the shrill tone—his hearing completely gone.
His mouth opened in a scream of pain as blood sprayed from between his reddened teeth. His breath grew ragged, and he coughed up more blood. His brain failed to register what was happening.
He lay on his stomach atop the strange surface of the water—if it could even be called that. It resembled grass… and soil… and cold, solid metal. Yet it also felt fluid and supple, like some hybrid material that defied logic, blending everything into one impossible thing.
The pain coursing through his body was hellish, as if he were moments away from becoming nothing more than a lifeless, bloody pulp.
He clenched his teeth in agony and tried to move—anything. But he couldn't. Not even lifting his head… the pain was unbearable.
His right arm and left leg were grotesquely mangled—to the point that the only thing he could feel from them was pain.
His other limbs had fared slightly better, but only by comparison.
His ribs were shattered, his chest crushed. His entire torso was a separate horror altogether.
**"Aaaarghhh…"**
As he tried to gather himself, he felt a burning heat at the top of his head. Another wound… blood pouring from it, dizziness washing over him.
Nausea. Weakness.
**"Ughhh… damn this nonsense…"**
Kalm gritted his teeth and, with great effort, lifted his blurry gaze toward the strange mausoleum ahead.
His vision was stained in crimson—like the river of blood from before—and hazy, making it hard to judge the true distance between him and the structure.
Still, based on the moment he had glimpsed it before the fall, he estimated it was several hundred meters away—perhaps four hundred… maybe more.
Even if that distance sounded short in reality, to Kalm it felt like the gap between heaven and earth.
Out of the corner of his eye, he looked upward and squinted, then closed his eyes briefly to focus. When he opened them again...
There it was.
The crimson light—a small orb, roughly human-sized—hovered in the air just a few meters above him.
It felt like it was staring directly at him… waiting for him to move, or perhaps… to advance.
**"If you want me to move… why didn't you save me from the fall, you damn… aghh…"**
Kalm cursed silently, then shut his eyes and focused on breathing.
Falling from that height had been dangerously close to fatal—especially for a child who hadn't awakened his power. It was a miracle from the heavens that he was still alive, even if only barely.
**"A miracle…? No… I doubt anything in this place—or anywhere else—works that way…"**
Kalystra hadn't lied to him.
But she had *hidden* so much.
She had played her role perfectly, manipulating words to offer him some truths… while keeping the rest shrouded in shadow.
Despite his admiration for her—and the profound sadness he felt over her—he couldn't help but think this way.
She had been so certain he would pass the trial. She had done all the hard work… prepared everything.
Kalystra—The title of calm from eight …
A warrior bearing the legacy of a Shadow Sovereign, known as the rule of Death…
No—more than that. She had once slit the throat of a ruler.
**"Enough... focus on my current state…"**
Kalm was in trouble. He knew that his survival hadn't been chance or luck—it was planned.
And now, he had to move his shattered body... and reach the mausoleum.
He didn't know what awaited him there, but it could only be one of two things.
Either he would find both weapons—or at least one—and escape this damned place to return to his world...
Which would be wonderful. A victory.
A heartwarming release from all this madness.
But then… there was the other possibility.
That he would find nothing.
And die slowly, pitifully, within the heart of the mausoleum.
--
He didn't even want to imagine what might happen if a beast were to emerge from somewhere—approaching him with the intent to kill.
That possibility… it stood somewhere between the other two. Worse than one, better than the other… maybe?
If only the crimson light hadn't decided to remain a passive observer…
It could've carried him—brought him all the way to the mausoleum and ended this entire farce.
But nothing was ever that simple. Nothing ever came on a golden—or even silver—platter in this world.
Well… maybe death.
That was the only thing that ever came easily.
**"What the hell am I thinking...? Is this really the time for philosophy…?"**
Kalm scowled in anger and took a harsh breath. Even breathing was a struggle—barely enough air made it to his lungs.
He gritted his teeth and raised his left hand. His bones groaned in protest, screaming at him to stop. His joints felt like rusted iron fibers—old and barely movable.
**"Aaaghh…"**
He screamed, blood splattering from his mouth—
But it didn't extinguish his will.
He extended his arm forward, and slowly, steadily, dragged his broken body ahead.
The pain from moving was infernal,
as if he were inviting the wrath of the heavens upon himself.
**"S…spare me your cruelty, please… Just… let me reach it. Or let me die. Don't leave me stranded halfway… damn it…"**
Kalm reached out again, using every ounce of strength he had to crawl forward.
Behind him, a wide trail of blood stained the shimmering surface beneath him.
He gasped—a short, broken breath—
Then tried once more, for the third time…
Until his muscles gave out.
Three pulls. That was all he could manage in his current state.
He slowly raised his head toward the mausoleum.
It loomed in the distance—far, far away—like something placed on the edge of the horizon.
It looked like a dream within reach,
yet at the same time, impossibly far from his grasp.
**"A dream… huh…"**
Kalm spat out more blood from his mouth.
His black eyes glimmered with a faint light—of defiance, and unyielding will.
Looking at himself…
Kalm had already been prepared to die for some time.
He had been ready to let go of life the moment he stepped into the strange fissure—maybe even before that.
He had already lost every person who might mourn him,
or miss his absence.
No one would even remember he had existed.
He had cried until his eyes ran dry,
screamed until his vocal cords nearly tore apart.
He had suffered so much that life itself had begun to feel like nothing but hell.
He lost the one thing that protected him from the world—his family.
And still… he remained, drenched in despair and misery. A pitiful existence.
Looking back at his life since becoming alone…
All he ever met were scoundrels. People who used him, who made his life harder.
There was nothing good left to live for.
Nothing to go back to.
He would only be alone again—
And that was worse than physical pain a thousand times over.
But… what if—
What if he kept his will burning?
What if he refused to give in, and pushed forward to finish the trial?
Would that bring him one step closer…
to that dream he had buried so deep inside his heart?
Would he truly be able to place that ambition before him again…?
To never be alone again…
To build a family of his own…