16 Choices.

Aldric almost did not notice the notifications as he gripped onto his sword tightly, a strange feeling rushing through his body, as if he could lose control of his own limbs. With each controlled breath Aldric took to calm himself, he felt as if the whispers in his head grew louder.

"Feed me."

A repetitive chant that felt more pressing in its hunger, before just as swiftly, it began to settle. With his grip loosening from the blade, the bloodlust swiftly dissipated from Aldric, and with a wisp, the sword disappeared.

"What... The hell was that?"

Al let out a confused mutter, his eyes trailing to the creature he had slain. To use the sword in such a way wasn't something he thought himself capable of, yet he somehow pulled it off. His strength and speed were still unbearably low; however, Aldric realized that did not matter. With the right handling of a sword, he killed his opponent.

"That's quite the blade you have—A Cursed artifact is quite the rarity."

Aldric looked up from the dead creature to the gold-haired girl as she spoke.

"However, there seems to be a battle for control. I'd advise you to not lose, but something tells me if you do, it'd be quite entertaining."

Aldric stared at her deadpan for a few moments, opening his mouth before stopping himself. He substituted his original retort for a more important question.

"What do you mean cursed?" he inquired.

They both resumed walking, knowing being in the forest any longer than necessary would do them no good.

"Exactly what it sounds like, artifacts cursed by higher entities... Wars have been fought for such artifacts. To think a naive world such as yours will possess one," she explained, pausing for a moment before continuing.

"Then again, it does make sense why a world like yours would be able participate in this trial; a blade like that is enough to make one qualified to be a candidate."

Aldric glanced at her, his mind trailing back to the knight's words: "You possess the blade but not the mark." That's what it had said to Mia just before ending her life.

'So the blade made her a candidate, but she did not have a marking and couldn't go further?'

This would be a plausible theory; however, Aldric was made a true candidate without the blade, and he made it as a final candidate by passing the personal trial. This could mean that one needed a marking for the personal trial, and because Mia lacked it, she was unable to reach that point.

"So the sword could qualify a person as a true candidate?"

"In some cases with a necessary sacrifice, yes. A cursed artifact and a show of dedication is enough for a Flawless rank to awaken their marking and be a true candidate. However, it's not worth it since often times the marking is of very low level."

Aldric nodded as he listened to her words, remembering what Mia had said to the Knight, something about a sacrifice.

"And the personal trial?"

"That's the hardest and where most fail. For some, it could be having to face their greatest fears or shortcomings, and for those yet to, it would be reaching the first enlightenment."

Aldric raised an eyebrow, glancing at her.

"First enlightenment?"

"Yes, there are four stages of enlightenment, with each, a person's understanding of their marking grows and so does the extent of their marking's ability. To obtain enlightenment is to truly understand the concept of your marking."

Aldric nodded.

"And when you reach the first enlightenment, you receive a title?"

"Yes, but only if you have a Divine Grade Marking."

Things began to fall into place and make sense; however, there was still much he didn't understand, like:

"Who even are the Firsts?" Al blurted out his thoughts.

Gold Hair glanced at him, then shrugged.

"No one really knows. I guess there are a large number of beliefs, but simply put: as their name suggests, they are the beginning, and most likely the end. Prior to existence itself, they were. Before gods and titans, before man and creature, darkness and light, the Firsts had been."

"Ah, so that's why their blessings are so important to you all."

"Yes, to be a servant of the First is an opportunity that comes every thousand years, and this is the first time there've been this many final candidates."

'What exactly... Have I been dragged into?'

Since entering the dungeon, Aldric's entire life has tilted. Everything seemed to happen so fast he had no time to even truly condense the absurdity of the whole situation. Luckily for him, blessed with a strong will to survive, he was one to adapt first and ask questions later.

"I'm Asari, do you have a name?" Gold Hair turned to Aldric.

He looked back at her, letting silence drag for a few moments before answering.

"Voss... you can call me Voss."

Asari smiled, a smile that seemed to light up the darkness of the forest.

"Well, Voss, let's try our best to survive."

They continued on, quickening their pace. Asari's warning on the dangers of being in the forest three hours after midnight did well to speed up their exit. As they walked through, the constant growls and shrieks did not ease up, some only being silenced after a more terrifying growl.

Aldric and Asari luckily were not engaged by any more creatures until they exited the forest, and as they walked further north of the forest outskirts, they soon found Blindfold and Robes standing and waiting.

'Why did they move separately from the others?'

Aldric thought, eyes scanning around for Muscles, the elf, and Purple Eyes, but not seeing a trace of them.

"You both made it out, although it's no surprise," Blindfold acknowledged their presence, looking towards Asari.

The more Aldric watched them interact, the more it seemed most of them were already quite familiar with each other, and that knowledge made him feel quite uneasy.

'How the hell does this bastard see anyway?'

"Seems we were the last to arrive," the familiar voice of the elf caused them all to turn to the side, where they saw them coming from the forest.

They all looked fairly exhausted and slightly roughed up, making it easy to tell they had been in a fight. The bloodstain on Purple's arm and the cloth wrapped around her, most likely to stop her bleeding, further told the fact.

'How many did they have to fight to look that bad?'

Aldric managed a scuffle with one and didn't look that terrible, although in all fairness, his opponent was half-dead. The team of three walked over to them, Purple Eyes standing close to Aldric as he assessed her wound.

"Well, let's not waste any more time," Blindfold's voice took a dark edge. "Make your decision."

'What decision?'

"Yes," the elf replied.

Aldric's eyes widened as blood spurted on his face. Panic settled and his muscles tensed as he reached his fingers to his face, staining them crimson as he touched it.

'Is this... My blood?'

Then, Aldric heard the muffled gasps for air. Only then did he turn to his side, and the sight he saw ran a chill through him—Purple Eyes choking on her own blood as she tried to cover her throat gushing with crimson. After moments of pointless struggle, she fell helplessly to the ground.

Aldric's eyes trailed from the convulsing body of Purple Eyes to the bloodstained knife that slit her throat, and holding it firmly was the elf, a sardonic smile adorning her face.