Within four cracked walls, the sunlight streaming through the window illuminated Noctis's pale white skin. He sat on the floor, his legs crossed, his breathing steady.
His mind was calm—completely emptied—as he meditated in silence.
Ever since the old man had taught him how, Noctis often used meditation to maintain his composure. Minutes passed before he slowly opened his deep blue eyes.
The first thing he saw was his own shadow cast upon the wall.
Expressionless, he stared at it.
Since awakening, he had begun to feel strange whenever he looked at shadows.
He couldn't explain the sensation—but if there was one emotion that stood out above the rest, it was hatred.
He stretched his arms and back, then took a few sips of the clean water by his side before summoning the dark runes.
[ 1 day 4 hours 19 minutes 51 seconds ]
He stared at the black text for a few seconds.
Gradually, his excitement began to grow—and with it, a strange, indescribable feeling.
'Why do I feel so excited?
It's as if my very soul is yearning for the trial...'
Noctis wanted to enter the trial.
The closer the countdown ticked toward zero, the stronger that pull inside him became.
By the final day, the sensation had become nearly unbearable.
'I can't resist this cursed feeling any longer...
I need to tell Grandpa.'
He slowly stood and walked toward the old man's room. The elderly man was smiling softly as he gazed out the window, the daylight reflecting in his single eye.
When Noctis approached, he turned his head, his smile widening.
Noctis sat on the chair beside him, his expression uncertain.
"Grandpa... my soul wants to enter the trial now. Since last night, this strange urge has been growing."
The old man's smile faded slightly.
"Son, there's still a whole day left.
Use that time to gather your thoughts—or prepare your mind."
Noctis sighed.
'I'm already ready... maybe?'
He gave his grandfather a strange look.
"Grandpa, I really don't want to enter right now—not at all. But this cursed feeling inside me... it's driving me insane."
The retired soldier gave Noctis a strange look for a few seconds.
"Alright… I don't know exactly what you're feeling, so I can't say much. But at the very least, prepare your mind. In the realm of magic, the most important thing is a mind of steel."
Noctis raised a single brow.
'He talks as if he's been there himself.'
He sighed. The old man was right, so there was no reason to argue.
Still, enduring the strange unrest within his soul felt like torture.
"I understand... Then I'll enter when there are only a few hours left."
The old man smiled faintly and nodded.
As Noctis turned to leave the room, he frowned slightly.
'Now that I think about it... How did Grandpa use the ring?'
The old man opened his mouth to say something, but Noctis spoke first.
"Grandpa, how did you use the ring when you're not even awakened?"
The old man lifted his single visible brow, then chuckled softly.
"Ah… I'd forgotten to mention it. Sylen has an artifact that allowed him to transfer a bit of his soul essence into mine. The last remaining drops of it—I used them that day, to look into your soul."
Noctis gave him a skeptical look.
'I was expecting something more mysterious than that...'
Unsatisfied, he left the room.
Back in his own, he ate a few dry ration supplements, then began meditating again.
He was deeply grateful that the retired soldier had taught him how to meditate. Every time he did, he felt a rare, soothing calm.
The Exile District was always noisy under the sun, but meditation allowed Noctis to shut out the chaos completely.
Hours passed, and the sun drew closer to the horizon. Noctis slowly opened his midnight-blue eyes. His mind was clear. The anxiety about the trial had faded, replaced by an almost tranquil stillness. Even the vile sensation in his soul had quieted somewhat.
Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet and walked to the old man's room.
The elder greeted him with a gentle smile.
"I have to enter now…"
A strange sorrow appeared on the old man's face. He sighed softly and tried to rise from the bed. Noctis reached out to stop him, but the old man stood anyway and gestured for Noctis to lie down. Noctis did as told, stretching out on the bed while the retired soldier sat on the nearby chair.
For a few minutes, there was only silence.
Then the old man drew a deep breath, his voice trembling.
"I always told myself this day might come...
But why does it feel so strange now?"
Noctis swallowed hard, saying nothing.
He simply met the old man's tired, reddened eye. Moments later, that same trembling yet gentle voice spoke again.
"Noctis, don't forget a single thing I've taught you. Always stay calm. It's your first trial, so the magic won't push you too far—but still, be cautious... You can't trust that cursed thing."
When the old man finished speaking, Noctis felt something stir within his soul—a strange, fleeting sensation.
The old man inhaled again and continued.
"I know you… You're curious, just like I was.
But don't let that curiosity consume you.
I lost my eye because I couldn't control mine."
He took a few slow, shaky breaths.
"When fear comes, let it.
When you must flee, then flee.
And if you must kill to survive—kill.
Do whatever it takes to stay alive."
Noctis nodded, his expression faintly conflicted.
"I understand, Grandpa… Don't worry.
I'll survive—no matter what."
He slowly curled up on the bed.
As his eyelids grew heavy, a faint hunger gnawed at him, but he ignored it.
"Then… see you soon, Grandpa."
In his mind, Noctis whispered the word "Yes" to the dark runes. The old man reached out, holding his hand tightly. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he spoke in a frail, quivering voice:
"Great God and fallen angels... please, protect my grandson."
[ ... ]
[ Sinner Noctis has confirmed participation in the first trial. ]
[ Countdown halted. ]
[ Your soul guide is forming... Please wait. ]
Noctis heard the voice echo through his soul—both beautiful and hideous at once.
He opened his eyes and looked around.
There was nothing to see. Everything was darkness. He couldn't even comprehend that what he was seeing was dark.
The memory of his nightmare flashed through his mind, and he shivered.
For a long moment, he simply stared into the void. Then—somewhere both distant and near—something began to take shape.
A black mist, coiling like strange smoke.
Noctis took a cautious step back, his gaze locked on it.
The smoke drew inward, condensing upon itself. Slowly, a body began to form.
Noctis could hardly believe his eyes.
What stood before him was a tall, broad-shouldered figure dressed in a long, black medieval garment traced with crimson markings—a black skeleton.
The only unnatural thing—if such a creature could have just one—was its head, which floated slightly above the base of its neck.
Headless, yet graceful.
Terrifying—and oddly elegant.
Noctis froze. What he saw both fascinated and unsettled him. The skeleton seemed distant at first, but with a single step it appeared right before him.
Noctis panicked, instinctively taking a defensive stance.
When his eyes met the creature's hollow sockets, a chill ran through his body.
Its eyes were not eyes at all—just empty wells stretching endlessly into oblivion.
The floating skull tilted slowly up and down, as though studying him.
Then came a voice—hollow, formless, and empty, just like its gaze.
"Welcome, my lord... I am your guide."
Noctis wasn't even sure he had heard the words. He slowly lowered his hands, forcing himself to stay calm. Just as he was about to speak, the hollow voice echoed again.
"My lord, your composure is… impressive."
Noctis's expression twitched.
Deep down, he was trembling, but he refused to show it. He had always wanted to meet a soul guide—never imagining it would actually frighten him.
A few seconds later, he steadied himself and spoke.
"I see... You'll be helping me with my first trial, right? Before that, may I ask you something?"
He was curious about one thing—the strangest and most infamous quirk of all soul guides: whenever they were asked their names... they changed.
Noctis felt a flicker of excitement.
"What's your name?"
The black skeleton did nothing. No hollow voice answered. It only stared at him with its empty sockets. Noctis's instincts stirred uneasily. A few silent seconds passed before the creature's floating head tilted slightly.
"That is forbidden, my lord. Please... simply call me the Skeleton."
'Forbidden? Why would a name be forbidden? …Whatever, that's not important right now.'
Noctis nodded with a faint, puzzled expression. A moment later, the hollow voice returned.
"My lord, time is running short…"
Noctis gestured for it to continue.
"Go on."
The skeleton straightened its back, clasping its hands behind it like a disciplined knight.
"The magic will send you into an ancient realm. That realm has been adjusted according to your current level. It is filled with dangers—but worry not, for the magic's justice is absolute."
Its voice echoed through the void, yet its bony jaw never moved.
"Allow me to offer one piece of advice, my lord… Listen to your soul."
Noctis raised a brow.
The skeleton continued, tone flat yet almost reverent.
"When the mind and body fall silent, the soul speaks. That voice is your true voice."
Noctis pretended to understand.
"Thanks for the advice… Then tell me, what's the goal of this trial?"
The skeleton's head lowered slightly.
Though it had no eyes, Noctis could feel its gaze drift toward the Moon Seal on his finger.
Then it stepped back, and its voice deepened into an even emptier tone.
"My lord, the magic commands you… to devour the cursed shadows."
Both of Noctis's brows rose.
"Devour the shadows? How the hell am I supposed to eat a shadow?"
The skeleton stared silently for a few moments before answering.
"Yes, my lord… Please, devour them. You are an early one—your magic is faintly active. You can already produce a small amount of essence… enough to consume the shadows."
At those words, Noctis felt something stir in his chest—an odd vibration, followed by a faint hunger.
"These shadows… are they strong? How am I supposed to kill them?"
The skeleton's voice came again, hollow and unshakable.
"Do not worry, my lord. The magic's justice is absolute. I do not need to tell you how to kill them… the thing within you already knows.
And now, it is time."
Noctis tried to speak, but no sound came out.
The skeleton raised one hand and snapped its bony fingers. Instantly, the darkness devoured everything.
Noctis's eyes widened—his mouth fell open.
His primitive mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. A sharp pain tore through his skull, and his consciousness collapsed.
The black skeleton gazed upon him one last time. As it, too, was swallowed by the void, it whispered:
"You have potential... I hope you do not die, my lord."
Then everything was consumed—
Even the darkness was devoured by deeper darkness. Only the wretched voice of the magic remained.
[ Sinner Noctis has entered the trial... May the Great God be with you. ]