Trial End

The world around Troy shifted, the brilliant light of teleportation fading, replaced by the muted, artificial glow of Dukanis City. He stumbled slightly as his feet hit solid ground, the familiar sight of the trial gate coming into focus. The gate stood tall and imposing, its smooth surface reflecting the faint light of the surrounding academy grounds. The air was different here—still and quiet, the heavy pulse of ether from the trial replaced by the distant hum of the city.

For a moment, Troy just stood there, taking in the sight, his mind struggling to reconcile what had just happened. He had fought for what felt like months, endured an endless cycle of battles, each one pushing him further than the last. And now, here he was, standing in front of the gate, as if no time had passed at all. The change was jarring, disorienting.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and he turned to see the two guards approaching, their armored forms moving with the practiced ease of those who had seen their share of trouble.

"How did the investigation go?" one of them asked, their voice muffled behind their visor. There was a note of curiosity in their tone, their posture relaxed, as if they didn't expect anything out of the ordinary.

Troy blinked, his mind snapping back to the present. He had to think fast, had to maintain the facade he had created. The trial had felt like it had lasted forever, but here, outside the gate, only three hours had passed. It was disorienting, but he couldn't afford to let it show.

He straightened, forcing a calm expression onto his face. "No issues," he said, his voice steady. "I sensed some fluctuations, but it must have been a false alarm. Nothing dangerous."

The guards exchanged a glance, then nodded. "Glad to hear it, sir," one of them said, stepping back to let him pass. "If there's anything else you need, just let us know."

Troy gave them a curt nod, keeping his movements deliberate, controlled. He had to act like he belonged, like he was in charge. The guards didn't question him further, and for that, he was grateful. He turned away, his footsteps echoing on the stone path as he walked away from the gate, each step taking him further from the academy and closer to the relative safety of his assigned room.

Once inside, Troy closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet space. He stood there for a moment, his back against the door, and then he let out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as the tension finally began to drain from his body.

Relief.

It washed over him like a wave, the weight of the deception, the exhaustion of the trial, all of it catching up with him at once. He had done it. He had bluffed his way in, survived the Phoenix's Trial, faced the strongest challengers, and somehow, he had come out on top. It still felt surreal, like a dream that he was only just waking up from.

Slowly, Troy pushed himself away from the door, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He needed to assess himself, to understand what had changed. He had felt the shift within him during the trial—the merging of the other Troy, the surge of power that had flowed through him. But now, with the quiet of the room around him, he could finally take stock of what that meant.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward, feeling the ether that now permeated his entire body. It was different—more organized, more efficient. His brainwaves were no longer chaotic, no longer the erratic mess they had been when he first arrived in Base 1. They were focused, aligned, each pulse of energy perfectly in sync. It was as if his entire being had been refined, honed to a point of precision he had never imagined possible.

He could feel the ether flowing through him, not just as a source of power, but as a part of him. It strengthened his muscles, sharpened his senses, enhanced his reflexes. Every part of his body felt connected, every movement deliberate, efficient. There was no wasted energy, no hesitation. It was as if he had finally become one with the ether, his body and mind working in perfect harmony.

Troy opened his eyes, his gaze drifting to his hands, flexing his fingers as he felt the power thrumming beneath his skin. He had grown—he knew that much. He wasn't the same as he had been before the trial. He had reached a new level, a level that he couldn't quite put into words.

Peak Realm 2.

That was where he estimated himself to be now. His control over his body, his mind, his ether—it was all in line with what he had learned about the realms of power. He had caught up. He had reached the level of an average eighteen-year-old in Base 1, the level that most students here achieved after years of training and refinement. He had done in a few months what had taken others a lifetime.

But there was more.

The battles, the endless clashes with the strongest challengers of the past, had given him something else. It wasn't just power—it was experience. The kind of experience that couldn't be taught, that couldn't be gained through training alone. He had fought thousands of battles, faced opponents who had pushed him to the edge, and he had learned from each one. He could feel it in his movements, in the way his body reacted without thought, the way his mind anticipated his opponent's next move.

It was more than just skill. It was instinct.

Troy clenched his fists, feeling the ether surge in response. He had the power of a peak Realm 2 ascender, but with the experience of someone beyond that—someone who had fought and survived countless trials. Perhaps even the equivalent of Realm 3.

He frowned, the thought lingering in his mind, a question that refused to let go. Is this because I am a real ascender?

The spirit had called him that—a real ascender. Someone who had reached this point without the use of neurosync tech, without the crutch that most relied on. He had pushed through on his own, relying solely on his will, his determination. And now, he was different. He could feel it in the way the ether responded to him, in the way his mind seemed clearer, sharper.

Real ascender.

What did that mean? What did it make him?

The question echoed in his mind, unanswered, as he sat there in the quiet of his room, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on him.

But there was another question that gnawed at him even more, one that had haunted him since the end of the trial. Who was that other Troy? The one he had fought—the one who looked like him, yet felt different. Was that really him? Was that version of himself from an ancient time, a different life? And why had their merging felt the way it did—like reclaiming something that had been lost, like filling a void he hadn't even known was there?

Troy sat in the quiet of his room, the weight of the unanswered questions pressing down on him. There was something there, something just out of reach—a truth about himself that he didn't yet understand.

But he could feel it now, deep inside, a fragment of something forgotten. When they had merged, it wasn't just power he had gained. It was something more—a piece of himself, something he had once been, and maybe still was.

He didn't know the answer. Not yet.

But he was going to find out.