The cavern trembled.
The whispers stopped.
For a moment, the silence was worse than the voices.
Then… it rose.
From the black mass of slain shadows, a new shape crawled into existence. A towering figure stitched from every fragment of despair they had faced. Its form shifted—sometimes humanoid, sometimes beastly, sometimes nothing but a writhing void. Its eyes, two suns of crimson, burned with malice.
Elira's breath hitched. "That… that's no ordinary shadow."
Alden tightened his grip on his axe, his voice low. "That's the heart of this place. The Trial's true guardian."
The Abyssal Shade let out a sound—half scream, half laugh—that rattled the stone walls. And then it moved.
Faster than thought.
It struck with claws wide enough to cleave stone. Reinhardt barely blocked, his arms screaming with pain as his blade shuddered under the impact. The ground cracked beneath his feet.
"Spread out!" he ordered.
They obeyed instantly. Elira lunged left, her spear flashing arcs of light. Callen circled right, his blade steady despite the fear burning in his chest. Alden charged forward with a roar, his axe igniting with raw force as it slammed into the Shade's torso.
The monster barely flinched.
Its counterstrike blasted Alden backwards, smashing him into the cavern wall. Blood sprayed from his lips as he hit the ground hard, his weapon clattering away.
"Alden!" Elira cried.
But Reinhardt couldn't afford distraction. The Shade's claw descended again, faster this time, hungering for his life. He braced—
And Callen was there. His sword intercepted, sparks screaming into the dark. He gritted his teeth, knees buckling.
"I won't… break again!" Callen roared, shoving the claw aside with every shred of strength.
The opening was small, but Reinhardt saw it. He struck, his blade flashing with a surge of energy that was more willpower than steel. The cut tore across the Shade's chest, black ichor spraying into the air.
The monster howled.
For the first time, it bled.
But the trial was far from over. The cavern shook violently as the Shade's body split open, birthing a storm of smaller shadows that swarmed around them like locusts.
Reinhardt's chest heaved. His arms burned. His heart thundered like a war drum.
"This is it…" he whispered. His eyes blazed with fire. "…The Trial of Ascension doesn't want us to fight shadows. It wants to see if we can fight despair itself."
And so they did. Four blades—battered, bleeding, but unbroken—rose against the Abyss.