Chapter 109 – The Trial

The path of molten silver widened, bleeding light into the abyss. Kael stepped forward, his shadowed form dragging streaks of ash across the void.

Then—silence cracked.

From the dark, thrones appeared. Dozens of them. Some towering, some shattered, all bound in chains of black fire. On each sat a husk of a god, crowned in ruin, their faces erased—only the weight of their former divinity lingered.

“To carry us,” the whispers said, “you must be measured.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “Measured how?”

The closest husk lifted a skeletal hand. Instantly, Kael’s surroundings shifted. He was no longer in the abyss but standing amidst a battlefield—one he knew.

Bodies lay broken in the dirt. Soldiers he had fought beside. Villages he had tried to save. And in the center… himself.

Another Kael stood there, cloaked in flame, eyes empty, blade dripping. This one carried no hesitation, no mercy.

The husks spoke as one:

“This is you without chains. This is the crown you could claim. Slaughter, conquest, dominion. Power unbridled. To ascend, you must defeat the reflection—or embrace it.”

Kael’s grip on his blade tightened. His double smiled—a cruel curve of his lips, as though mocking Kael’s hesitation.

Steel rang as the duel began.

Kael’s first strike clashed with his reflection’s with such force the battlefield shattered into fragments of memory. Flames burst, shadows screamed, and every echo of his past—every failure, every regret—rose like phantoms to claw at him.

The false Kael spoke through the roar:
“Why fight me? I am you. I am the Kael who doesn’t hesitate, who doesn’t falter. The one who wins.”

Kael gritted his teeth. Each swing of his double was faster, heavier, merciless.

But as the shadows closed in, he realized: this wasn’t about strength. It was about choice.

To win, he didn’t have to erase the reflection. He had to decide what part of it to carry.

Kael steadied himself, eyes burning.
“I won’t deny you. But I won’t be consumed by you, either. I’ll take your fire—and forge it into my own blade.”

His shadow flared. The reflection froze, then fractured, collapsing into Kael’s chest like molten glass.

The husks of the gods bowed their heads.

“You have chosen. Not erasure, not surrender. Integration. You walk the path of the Fractured Crown.”

And for the first time, Kael’s body solidified again—ashen flesh, burning eyes, his blade now etched with runes that weren’t his own.

Kael stood taller. He had passed the first trial.

But the abyss was far from finished with him.