The white light faded like a sun obscured by clouds, leaving Joshua and Lysandra standing in a place that defied comprehension.
They were in a massive arena carved from reflective aquamarine, its walls towering higher than Joshua could perceive. Ancient symbols glowed along the perimeter with demon script so old that even Lysandra couldn't read it all. The air itself thrummed with power, the kind that made the air feel thin.
In the center of the arena stood seven thrones, each one occupied by a figure wreathed in shadow and flame. Their forms blinked constantly, sometimes human-like, sometimes monstrous, sometimes nothing but pure malevolent energy.
The Memory Trial had stripped them both bare.
Joshua reliving his family's cruelty, Lysandra watching the family who loved her die. They'd seen each other's worst moments, the scars that shaped them.
Now, standing in this impossible arena, Joshua realized the trials weren't done dissecting them yet.
"The Demon Kings of old," Lysandra breathed, instinctively moving closer to Joshua. "They're supposed to be dead."
[Soul Trial: ACTIVE]
[Warning: Detecting ancient demonic entities]
[Crimson: Fully operational but... Joshua, these things are OLD. Like, before-the-realms-split old]
Clint materialized beside them, but his cheerful demeanor had shifted into something more reverent, almost nervous. His golden eyes flicked between the thrones with what might have been wariness.
"Welcome to the Trial of Souls," he announced, though his voice carried less confidence than before. "Here, you will face the judgment of those who came before. The ancient kings who ruled when the boundaries between realms were... fluid."
The figure on the central throne stirred, its form solidifying into something vaguely humanoid but wrong in every proportion. Its voice emerged like grinding stone being crushed beneath a mountain's weight—slow, deliberate, carrying the authority of eons.
"A human prince and a demon princess, bound together." The ancient king's laugh was like bones breaking in sequence. "How... novel. It has been millennia since we witnessed such an aberration."
"They seek the binding," Clint explained, though something in his tone suggested he felt no fear speaking to the entities. "The trial must be completed."
"Indeed, it must."
Another king with a smaller stature moved, his body carved from ice that never melted. The temperature plummeted as its occupant leaned forward, and frost spread across the arena floor. When it spoke, each word was clipped, precise, devoid of warmth or emotion.
"But first, we shall see what manner of souls these children possess. Three paths. Three truths. One choice."
The third king leaned forward, its eyes burning like dying stars—not with anger, but with something almost curious. Its voice carried harmonics that made Joshua's chest ache.
"The human prince will choose. But the choice will reveal what he truly values beneath all the lies he tells himself. The trial is different for everyone. For you, Prince Joshua, it's about choosing a future. For the Princess... well, her soul has already been tested by far crueler judges than us."
Joshua felt Lysandra's hand find his, her grip tight. "Whatever happens," she whispered, "remember—"
"SILENCE."
The word hit them like a physical blow, driving them to their knees. The first king—the one of stone and judgment—rose from his throne, towering above them.
"The first trial: The Noble King. Face your birthright, human prince. See what you could become if you embraced the path your blood demands."
The arena floor beneath them began to shift, reality bending like heated glass.
Joshua found himself standing in the throne room of Arial, but not as he'd left it. This was the future—maybe five years hence. Banners hung from the walls depicting his victories over demon armies. His father's throne sat empty, and in its place stood something grander.
His own throne.
King Joshua Vale, first of his name, sat upon it wearing a crown that caught the light like captured flame. This older version of himself was broader, stronger, his face bearing scars from noble battles. Both his eyes remained blue—the blue of royal blood, of righteous authority.
"Kneel," Future Joshua commanded, and the entire court dropped to their knees without hesitation. Without question.
This wasn't the broken prince who'd been sent to die. This was what he could become—respected, powerful, loved by his people. Everything he'd ever wanted.
[Blood Magic Level: 307]
[Title: The Demon Slayer, Protector of Arial, First Blade of Humanity]
[Joshua... this power level... it's incredible. You'd be unstoppable]
"You see," the ancient king's voice echoed around them, though the vision continued. "Return to your people. Use the power you've gained to protect them. Become the hero they need. Earn the love denied to you."
In the vision, Lysandra knelt among the defeated demons, her hands bound with chains that glowed with holy light. Blood ran from cuts on her face, her armor shattered. She looked up at King Joshua with eyes full of betrayal and heartbreak.
"You promised," she whispered. "You said we were in this together."
Future Joshua's expression didn't change—cold, regal, unmoved. "I keep my promises to humans, demon. You were useful for a time. Nothing more."
The vision shattered as Joshua recoiled violently, gasping. "No. That's not—I would never—"
But part of him whispered: Is this really what I wanted all along? To be loved? To matter?
Even if it meant becoming exactly like them?
"Would you not?" The second king rose, ice forming in the air around them with each word. Frost spread across Joshua's skin, burning cold. "Then perhaps you prefer the second path. The Wanderer. The one who serves no master. Owes nothing to anyone."
This time, Joshua stood in a wasteland between the human and demon realms. The sky was the color of old blood, and nothing grew in the cracked earth beneath his feet. Ash fell like snow, covering everything in gray.
This version of himself was lean, scarred, wearing armor that had seen too many battles and been repaired too many times. His eyes held no warmth—just cold pragmatism and the hollow stare of someone who'd survived by cutting away everything that made survival complicated.
Wanderer Joshua fought alone against both human and demon armies. He served no king, followed no law, acknowledged no bond except to his own survival.
In the distance, Joshua could see Arial burning. And in another direction, the demon realm's spires crumbled under assault from human forces.
"The war continues," Wanderer Joshua said to no one in particular, cleaning blood from his blade with methodical precision. "But not my war. Not anymore."
Bodies lay scattered around him, human and demon alike. He'd killed them all without discrimination, without hesitation, without remorse.
And somewhere in the carnage lay Lysandra's still form, her crimson eyes staring sightlessly at the blood-red sky. A sword—his sword—protruded from her chest.
"She got in the way," Wanderer Joshua said with the same tone he might use to comment on the weather. "So I removed the obstacle."
Joshua's stomach lurched. Is this what fear of failure becomes? Is this where all that pain leads—to cutting away everyone before they can hurt you first?
"Absolute freedom," the second king intoned with clinical precision. "Bow to no one. Protect nothing. Survive above all else. Is this not what you truly desire, Prince Joshua? To never again be expendable to anyone? To never again be abandoned?"
Joshua's hands shook as the vision collapsed around him. "I could become that…"
"No more worrying about the words of others." he whispered to himself. "God, I really could."
The third king stirred, and its voice carried something the others lacked—not judgment or detachment, but genuine curiosity mixed with ancient sadness.
He looked at Lysandra whose face was unreadable, but there was a tinge of sadness, as if she was telling him "I'd understand if you hate me."
"I don't want to become that. I've been on the receiving end, and the last thing I'd ever want is to become like the king."
"Then witness the third path, young prince. The hardest road. The one where you choose to be neither one thing nor another."
This Joshua stood in the demon realm, but he belonged there now. One eye remained human blue, but the other had turned demon red the mark of one who'd chosen to bridge two worlds. His skin bore ritual scars that glowed with inner fire, and when he smiled, his canine teeth were slightly pointed.
He wasn't fully human anymore. But he wasn't demon either.
He was something new. Something that hadn't existed before.
Beside him stood Lysandra, no longer princess but queen, her crown resting easy on her brow. They faced a mixed court of humans and demons, ruling together over a realm where both species lived in wary but genuine peace.
"The Blood Prince," The projected Joshua said, testing the title on his tongue. "I can live with that."
"It suits you," Lysandra replied, her hand finding his naturally, like they'd done this a thousand times. "My prince of two worlds."
This Joshua had given up his humanity—not entirely, but enough. He'd chosen love over duty, partnership over solitary power, complexity over the simple certainties of choosing sides.
But his face bore the weight of it. The knowing that he'd never truly belong to either world again. That both humans and demons would look at him with suspicion. That he'd chosen the hardest path because it was the right one, not because it was easy.
"The hardest path," the third king said, its voice almost gentle—almost empathetic. "To be neither one thing nor another. To belong fully nowhere while protecting everything. To sacrifice the comfort of certainty for the burden of understanding."
The visions faded, leaving Joshua and Lysandra standing before the seven thrones.
Joshua's mind raced. The Noble King offered everything he'd wanted—love, respect, power. The Wanderer offered freedom from ever being hurt again. But both versions had one thing in common.
They were alone.
Only the Bridge showed him standing beside someone.
"Choose," all the kings spoke in unison, their voices creating harmonics that made the air vibrate. "But know that each path demands a price that cannot be undone."
Joshua looked at Lysandra, saw the fear in her crimson eyes. Not fear of the trial, but fear of what he might choose. Fear that he'd pick power over her, or freedom over them.
She opened her mouth, closed it. Then spoke quietly, just for him.
"I'll walk whatever path you choose, Joshua. Even if you choose one without me." Her voice cracked slightly. "But don't choose the one where you're alone. You've been alone enough."
[All paths are valid, Joshua]
[But... I know which one feels right to you]
[The question is: are you brave enough to pay the price?]
Joshua stepped forward, his decision crystallizing like ice forming on a lake. His voice was steady when he spoke.
"I choose the Bridge," he said clearly. "I choose to become something new. Something that hasn't existed before."
He looked at Lysandra, then back at the ancient kings.
"I'm tired of being what others need me to be. The Noble King is just another version of being expendable—a weapon for humans to wield. The Wanderer is just... running away forever." He took a breath. "The Bridge is the only path where I'm not alone. Where I choose something for myself, not because duty or fear demands it."
The ancient kings stirred, their forms wavering between approval and something harder to define.
The third king—the curious one—leaned forward.
"Then accept the mark of your choice, Blood Prince. Know that what you sacrifice cannot be reclaimed."
Pain lanced through Joshua's left eye like a white-hot needle being driven directly into his brain. He fell to his knees, screaming, as the blue iris of his eye shifted and changed. Color bled from human blue to demonic red.
And princess Lysandra, you need no greater power than the one you possess. If you can control your magic, there will be few foes that can hold a candle to you. The divines have blessed your soul far more than we can."
Lysandra didn't acknowledge their revelation, unable to look away from Joshua.
His blood sang with new power. His bones ached with transformation. Something fundamental in his soul changed, like a door closing on one path and opening on another.
When it was finished, Joshua collapsed on the arena floor, gasping. Lysandra dropped beside him, tears streaming down her face.
"Joshua—your eye—"
"I'm still me," he said softly, though his voice carried new harmonics—something between human and demon. "Just... more."
When he looked up, his reflection in the polished arena floor showed one blue eye and one red—the mark of someone who belonged to two worlds and fully to neither.
The seven kings began to fade, their judgment complete.
"The binding is accepted. The Blood Prince and his princess may rule as they see fit. Though know this—the path you have chosen will make enemies of forces far greater than us."
They all stood, their forms becoming transparent.
The thrones dissolved into shadow.
The arena walls crumbled.
For a moment, there was only Joshua and Lysandra, kneeling together in fading light.
Then Clint stepped forward from the dissipating darkness.
But the cheerful mask was completely gone now. His golden eyes burned with something cold and calculating, and his smile was sharp enough to cut. He looked at Joshua's mismatched eyes with an expression that might have been fascination or might have been disgust.
"Well," he said conversationally, tilting his head. "That's... problematic."
"What do you mean?" Lysandra demanded, helping Joshua to his feet.
Clint's smile widened into something predatory. He began pacing slowly around them, hands clasped behind his back.
"I mean they aren't happy with this outcome. Not at all." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "They wanted the human dead, you see. Clean, simple, final. Send him to the trial, let him die heroically or pathetically—didn't matter which. Remove the unknown variable."
A strained laugh escaped from Clint as if he was trying to hold himself together.
"Funnily, the Demon Kings would've killed you on the spot if your heart had even wavered for a second. They wanted to test your resolve… and blessed you with their power."
He stopped pacing, studying Joshua's new red eye with obvious interest.
"But now we have something unprecedented. Something that doesn't fit," Clint sighed dramatically. "They're going to make me clean up this mess, aren't they?"
"Who are 'they'?" Joshua asked, and his new red eye seemed to see more clearly than it should, catching details in Clint's expression that the blue one missed.
His smile turned genuinely wicked.
"They're bossing me around again. Demanding I fix their mistake." He laughed. "And I liked you two. I really… really hate this assignment."
The arena floor cracked beneath them.
"Wait!" Lysandra shouted. "What are you—"
The floor gave way entirely.
Joshua grabbed Lysandra's hand as they fell through space and time, through layers of reality that peeled away like wet paper. Darkness rushed past them, then light.
[QUEST: SURVIVE THE TRIAL OF SOULS]
[REWARD: ARCHETYPE ASCENSION]
[BLOOD —> BLOOD PRINCE]
[BLOODLINES PATHWAY UNLOCKED. MAGIC/MP UNLOCKED. BLOOD VISION ENABLED.]
The notification hung in Joshua's vision, steady and clear even as everything else spun.
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
The messages kept coming as they fell, each one appearing with deliberate precision.
[New Title Acquired: The Blood Prince]
[Warning: Unknown entities have taken hostile interest in user]
[Warning: Soul signature has been permanently altered]
[Warning: You are now visible to forces beyond standard demon/human conflict]
[Joshua...] Crimson's voice carried something he'd never heard from the system before—genuine fear. [I think we're in deeper trouble than we realized. Whatever "they" are... they're powerful enough to make Clint nervous. And Clint isn't nervous about much.]
"I'm really sorry to have to do this." Clint's voice echoed within the rings of light and dark.
And in an instant, the Rift shattered.