Chapter 59: Trial of the Broken Realm

[15th April 2024]

The moment Victor’s words faded, the world around Rey twisted like melting glass.

A strange hum echoed through the air, and his weapon—if it could be called that—manifested in front of him with a thunderous crack.

“What the hell is this?!” Rey yelled, stumbling backward as his eyes widened at the sight of a monstrous hammer, taller than he was and twice as broad. Its head shimmered with fractured runes, glowing faintly as if mocking him.

Victor reclined in his spectral chair, smirking. “What’s wrong, boy? Don’t tell me the hero of our story can’t even lift his own fate.”

Rey gritted his teeth. “You call

this

a weapon? This is a punishment!”

Aiden chuckled. “Oh, relax. At least he didn’t hand you a broom.”

Rey took a shaky breath and gripped the handle. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as heavy as it looked—but its balance was wild, unsteady, alive.

The hammer pulsed faintly in his hands, as if aware of his every doubt.

“Focus, Rey,” Victor’s voice boomed. “This realm isn’t built for your comfort. It’s where you

earn

your right to exist.”

The air shuddered.

Two silhouettes began to form ahead—figures rising from the cracked marble ground like shadows birthing flesh. When their faces became clear, Rey froze.

Jacob.

Two of him.

Both wore the same bloodstained grin that had haunted Rey’s nightmares.

Aiden’s voice drifted through the mist. “You wanted to face your past, didn’t you? Well… there it stands.”

Rey’s grip tightened. “Two of him? Seriously? You couldn’t just give me one trauma at a time?”

“Think of it as a two-for-one offer,” Victor quipped.

Before Rey could retort, both Jacobs lunged.

He barely raised the hammer in time—the first strike crashed against its head, sending a tremor through his arms. The second Jacob came from the side, his kick slicing the air like a blade. Rey twisted away, barely dodging, the hammer dragging sparks across the ground.

“Too slow!” one of them hissed.

“Shut up!” Rey shouted, spinning the hammer in a desperate arc. The swing collided with the first Jacob’s chest, the impact detonating like thunder. The man flew backward, crashing into the crystalline wall of the realm and disintegrating into motes of light.

For a moment, Rey gasped, staring at the empty space where his enemy had been.

Then—

“Behind you!” Aiden yelled.

Too late. The second Jacob’s fist smashed into Rey’s spine, flinging him forward. Pain seared through him, white-hot.

“Argh! Damn it—this is supposed to be a dream!”

Victor’s laughter echoed. “A dream, yes. But one where the pain teaches you faster than fear.”

Rey stumbled up, breathing hard. Blood trickled from his lip. His whole body screamed in protest, but his spirit didn’t yield.

The hammer pulsed again.

He felt it—its rhythm syncing with his heartbeat.

When the second Jacob charged again, Rey didn’t dodge. He met the attack head-on, swinging with both arms. The hammer sang through the air, colliding with a force that split the ground open like a scar of light.

When the dust cleared, Jacob’s illusion shattered.

Rey collapsed to his knees, gasping. His vision blurred, but his pain began to fade—the world itself seemed to drink it away.

The realm shifted again. The fragments of light that once were Jacob seeped into the ground, turning the marble black. Rey’s wounds healed as the air pulsed with new mana.

“Not bad,” Victor’s voice rumbled through the void, proud but teasing. “You might survive this after all.”

“Survive? You call that mercy?” Rey groaned, glaring up at the projection of Victor reclining on his phantom throne.

“Please,” Victor scoffed, smirking. “You crushed your past. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Rey glared. “You want a celebration? Fine. Let’s see how

you

handle a four-meter hammer.”

He swung at Victor’s illusion—and of course, his hammer went straight through it.

Victor chuckled. “Temper, temper.”

Rey huffed and wiped his face. “Next time, I’m picking my own weapon.”

“Oh? You want another?” Victor raised a brow.

Rey nodded, though exhaustion trembled through him.

“Fine,” Victor said, snapping his fingers. The hammer began to warp, bending and folding until it became a long, single-edged sword glowing faintly with obsidian light.

Rey caught it mid-air. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, it felt… right.

“Better,” he whispered.

“Good,” Victor said. “Because the next round won’t wait for you to breathe.”

Before Rey could question him, the marble cracked again—three shadows emerged this time, darker, more fluid than before. Their movements weren’t human anymore.

“Wait,

three

? That’s overkill!” Rey yelled.

“No,” Victor’s tone deepened. “This is your truth. You can’t escape your fears—you face them, or you fall to them.”

The three Jacobs surged forward like phantoms.

Steel clashed. Sparks erupted. Every hit forced Rey to move faster, think sharper,

be

something more. His sword hummed like a heartbeat, feeding off his will.

When the third Jacob’s blow broke his guard, Rey stumbled back, his knees almost giving out.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” he muttered, coughing blood.

“You can,” Victor’s voice cut through the noise. It wasn’t teasing anymore—it carried weight. “Think, Rey. Look deeper. You already have the key.”

Rey’s gaze fell on the sword. Its edge rippled with darkness, but beneath it, faint veins of light shimmered—as if the weapon was alive, waiting.

He took a breath. Closed his eyes.

When he opened them, his aura erupted.

Mana flared around him like black fire, licking at the ground. The sword vibrated, its light merging with his pulse.

The next strike wasn’t desperate—it was

precise

.

Rey ducked the first attack, parried the second, and countered the third with a clean, upward slash that split the air in two.

His blade traced an arc of silver across Jacob’s chest.

Blood—real or not—splattered the ground. The three illusions faltered, then shattered into a storm of embers.

Rey stood there, chest heaving, surrounded by the remnants of his own fury.

The realm began to fade, returning to silence.

Victor’s voice echoed faintly, proud and cold.

“Not bad, boy. You’ve bled enough to call it progress.”

Rey looked down at his sword and smiled faintly.

“Guess pain really

is

the best teacher.”

Then the world dissolved—swallowed by light once more.

To be continued…