Trial of Courage(Grey's POV)
Grey stood alone.
The space around him was vast and empty, a colorless expanse that felt neither warm nor cold. There was no floor—yet he stood. No sky—yet something loomed above. The silence pressed in, heavy and deliberate, as if the trial itself was waiting for him to react.
Then—
Another presence appeared.
Grey faced himself.
Two figures stood several paces apart.
One was Grey as he had always been—black eyes calm, face unreadable, posture steady and grounded. The other wore the same body, the same features, but his eyes burned a deep, unnatural red. A crooked, taunting smile tugged at his lips, sharp with mockery and knowing cruelty.
The red-eyed Grey tilted his head slightly, amusement dancing in his gaze.
"No fear. No hesitation. No panic." He spread his arms as if presenting a joke. "Do you even know what courage is, or are you just empty?"
Grey's eyes remained fixed on him.
The demon stepped closer, boots echoing despite the lack of ground.
"You're not brave," the demon whispered. "You're hollow."
Grey exhaled slowly.
He tilted his head up—not in defiance, not in anger, but with quiet finality.
Then he spoke.
"Begone."
The word was not shouted.
It was not infused with rage or mana or force.
It was a statement. However that statement caused space to fracture instantly.
Cracks tore through the false Grey's body like shattered glass, red light spilling from the fissures. The taunting smile froze, eyes widening in sudden disbelief.
"No—"
The heart demon shattered completely, fragments dissolving into nothing before they could hit the void.
Silence returned.
Where the demon had stood, a door formed
Grey did not hesitate.
He walked forward, grasped the handle, and opened the door.
Without looking back, he stepped through like he didn't face one of the most terrifying tribulations of every system wielder. If Primo was to see this his non existent jaws would have needed help tightening.
LEO'S POV
Leo now stood in front of a giant stairway. It rose straight upward into nothingness, steps stacked endlessly upon one another until they vanished into a pale haze. Just stone steps that didn't seem to end.
Leo frowned.
{ Well,} Primo chuckled, {happy climbing}
"Figures," he muttered.
He braced himself and decided to face whatever was coming his way.
He placed one foot on the first step.
The moment his weight settled, pressure descended.
Not an impact—but a slow, crushing presence, as if the air itself had thickened. His muscles tensed instinctively. Breathing became laborious, each inhale heavier than the last, like gravity had quietly doubled.
He climbed.
Second step. Third.
The pressure increased with every ascent. His legs burned. His shoulders sagged beneath invisible hands pressing him downward, daring him to stop.
But Leo didn't.
He grit his teeth and kept moving, boots striking stone in steady rhythm.
Through sheer grit he reached the ninety-ninth step, sweat soaked his clothes and his breath came rough, but then, abruptly, the pressure vanished.
He froze.
The weight lifted completely, leaving behind a strange lightness that spread through his body. The fatigue drained away as if it had never been there. Muscles loosened. Breath steadied.
Refreshed.
Leo exhaled slowly. { Don't relax yet. You know the saying, there is a calm before the storm} Primo advised.
Leo agreed with Primo. He took a deep breath again and stepped onto the hundredth stair.
The pressure returned instantly.
But this time—
It wasn't on his body.
It was on his soul.
Leo staggered, his thoughts blurred. His heartbeat echoed too loudly, too close. It felt like something was trying to smother him from the inside, to extinguish not flesh—but will.
He climbed.
Each step was agony. Memories surfaced unbidden—fear, doubt, moments of weakness he thought he'd buried. His resolve trembled, threatened to fracture under the invisible weight pressing down on his spirit.
But still, he climbed.
At the ninety-ninth step of the second ascent, the pressure vanished again, leaving him trembling—but intact.
Leo steadied himself and gazed at the next set of stairs as he had come to realize that after every 99 stairs the pressure targets a different front.
'What next?' He wondered inwardly.
The next stair felt… wrong.
Different.
The instant his foot touched it, that was when he knew he had f*cked up.
"Oh," he breathed hoarsely. "I'm screwed."
The pressure hit all at once.
Body and soul.
The crushing gravity of the first staircase returned, bearing down on his muscles and bones—combined with the suffocating weight that clawed at his spirit. Every step forward felt like betrayal against his own limits.
His knees buckled.
His vision swam.
The staircase didn't just test endurance—it promised suffering.
"This thing…" Leo whispered through clenched teeth, forcing himself upright, "is trying to kill me."
So he did the only thing he could.
He refused.
Step by step, he dragged himself upward. Muscles screamed. His soul burned.
Every instinct begged him to stop—to rest—to give in.
But Leo moved anyway.
Not because it was easy.
Not because he was strong enough.
But because stopping was not an option.
When he finally reached the end of the third staircase, he collapsed to one knee, chest heaving, body shaking violently.
"Yeah," he muttered, forcing himself to stand.
That was when he noticed that he was back on the central platform again, and he was facing the very last pillar of the five.