Chapter 1: Trial That Calls Him Prey
The pressure changed before Severin opened his eyes.
Cold air rushed over his bare skin. Then the current reversed and dragged him sideways.
A raised rib of stone caught his left shoulder. His left hand snapped out, fingers clamping around the ridge as his hip slid toward open air. Dust streamed past his thigh and vanished without a sound.
Severin flattened himself against the shelf until the pull weakened.
The chamber exhaled.
Air slammed into the wall behind him, split around the narrow shelf, and peppered his back with grit. The dust that had fallen toward the pit came racing up again.
Only then did he open his eyes.
Gray light reached the nearest stone and little else. Thick ribs curved down around an abyss whose bottom remained hidden. Some joined closely enough to form paths. Others ended across gaps wide enough to kill him.
The shelf beneath him was broader than his shoulders, but not by much, and its open edge waited beside his right thigh. A sloping route disappeared to his left behind a wall of stone.
Behind him, solid rock blocked the way. He ran his palm over it. No doorway. No seam deep enough to grip.
The air began pulling inward again.
Severin watched the dust instead of wasting strength against the current. It slid toward the edge, quickened, and poured between the ribs. When the chamber blew outward, the same dust returned in a dry sheet and divided around the back wall.
He let the pit breathe through another cycle and counted under his breath.
The next pull came on the same count.
Good. A pattern.
He shifted closer to the wall and checked himself. His fingers curled and opened. His knees bent without pain, though the joints carried the stiffness of a long sleep. His left hand crossed his chest and found the familiar dragon tattoo beginning over his heart, spreading across his shoulder, then running down his arm.
Same body.
His last clear memory was his own bed. A woman had been asleep beside him, the mattress dipping when she turned and the sheet tightening across his leg. Nothing followed.
Now he was naked on a stone shelf above an abyss.
He searched the space behind him and reached beneath the nearest rib. His fingers came back gray with grit. No clothes. No phone. Nothing he could break loose for a weapon. He dug a nail against the rib’s edge, but the stone barely marked.
Could’ve left the pants.
His mouth was dry. Dust coated his tongue. He pressed along his ribs and the back of his skull, then checked his palms for blood. None.
The pit inhaled again.
Severin loosened his grip until the current began to tug his arm and shoulder. Before it could shift him, he tightened his hand. On the outward rush, he watched the dust slow near the back wall.
There.
The current weakened close to the stone. He flattened his palm against the floor. Dust skimmed his knuckles without dragging his wrist toward the edge. The calmer air lasted only until the pit changed direction, but it gave him room to move.
A massage formed in his mind
[Divine Trial 1 of 5 initiated.]
His fingers pressed harder into the shelf. He searched the chamber again, this time for an observer, a hidden opening, anything that might explain the words.
Nothing answered.
[Trial Type: Survival]
The next inward pull drew grit across his wrist. Severin stopped looking for an explanation and watched the route instead.
[Trial Name: The Breathing Pit]
Fitting.
[New Skill Acquired.]
[Acquisition Source: Divine Trial]
[Skill Grade: F — Nascent Skill]
[Skill Name: Threat Vector]
A faint scrape rose from below.
Severin went still. The sound ended before the chamber finished inhaling. He listened through the outward roar, but whatever had made it stayed quiet.
Threat Vector gave him nothing.
Not enough.
He kept his eyes on the bend.
[Evolution Rank advanced.]
[Previous Rank: Rank 10 — Unawakened]
[↓]
[Current Rank: Rank 9 — Awakened]
His abdomen locked hard enough to lift his hips from the stone.
His teeth struck together. Pressure drove through muscle and bone. Something colder followed beneath it, too deep to be flesh. His fingers crushed grit against the rib. The next breath flooded his lungs too fast; he coughed, and his grip slipped.
Severin planted his right palm.
He tried to draw a knee beneath himself. The leg moved farther than he intended, pitching his weight toward the edge. He twisted, caught the shelf with his palms, and stopped with his face hanging a handspan above the pit.
Dust lifted beneath his mouth and spiraled downward.
The chamber exhaled across the back of his neck.
Easy.
His pulse beat against his throat. He eased his hips away from the drop, but the small push carried him farther than it should have. He stopped before correcting again.
Too much.
The pressure inside him receded.
[Existence reconstruction complete.]
[Physical and spiritual parameters reinforced.]
Fine stone dust filled the lines of his left palm. He wanted to stand. Instead, he remained low and tested his grip before trusting his legs.
He set his left hand down again. No slap this time. He moved a knee, stopped it where he wanted, then set his foot beneath him. The body obeyed, but only after he treated every motion as unfamiliar.
[New Title Acquired.]
[Title: Blessings of the Void]
[New Skill Acquired.]
[Unknown Skill Detected.]
[Unknown Skill: Void System]
[Void Devour]
[Void Intimate]
[Void Forge]
[Void Override]
Severin’s left hand went still against the stone.
Mine. Then.
"Well, shit.!"
The pit inhaled again.
He lowered his weight before the pull reached full force. His bare feet held against the rough stone. When the pressure faded, he rose into a crouch with his left hand close to the wall.
A cautious step carried him farther than expected. Irritation tightened his jaw. He settled back into the crouch and tried again with less force. This time, his heel landed where he meant it to, well short of the edge.
Enough testing. The thing below hadn’t gone away.
The route’s outer side fell straight into darkness. Its inner wall hid everything beyond the bend. Going down would cost him sight before it gave him answers. Staying on the shelf forced anything below to enter through the narrow mouth in front of him.
He scraped grit from a crack and let it fall over the slope.
The inward current swept most of it around the bend. The outward burst threw it back. Some grains struck the inner wall and dropped into a shallow hollow near the route’s mouth, where the air barely touched them.
The pit breathed again. The grains stayed put.
Severin crossed to the hollow in measured steps. The back wall remained within reach. The inner wall covered his left side. Whatever climbed the route would have to enter his sight before it reached him.
Something clicked against stone below. A short scrape followed.
The next blast of air swallowed the rest before he could place it.
Nothing else yet.
He waited with his hands loose.
Dust climbed the slope in thin lines as the chamber breathed out. A low shape cut through a line near the bend, then vanished before he could make out legs or a head. Its back passed below his knee.
Severin didn’t chase it with his eyes. He watched the entrance.
A scrape came from the left side.
He looked left without turning his shoulders away from the route.
Nothing moved during the next inward pull.
Then stone clicked on the right, closer than before.
Whatever waited below had begun to circle.