Wu Chen's heart hammered against his ribs as the voice's final words dissolved into the void.
The world around him—that shimmering sea of light and color—ripped apart like torn canvas. Reality itself seemed to scream as the fabric of space twisted, the very air boiling with chaotic energy.
Then—the ground vanished.
Wu Chen was hurled forward, his body spinning helplessly through a maelstrom of blinding radiance and deafening noise. He couldn't tell if he was falling or flying, if seconds or centuries passed. His bones vibrated with the force of it, his vision seared white—
And then, cutting through the chaos, words burned into his mind:
[ MIND COMPATIBILITY TEST INITIATED ]
[ SYSTEM SYNCHRONIZATION IN PROGRESS ]
The voice was different this time—cold, mechanical, utterly inhuman. Not the thunderous presence from before.
Wu Chen had braced himself for a trial of blood and agony, a test where his will and strength could tip the scales.
But this?
A compatibility check.
Something utterly beyond his control.
His stomach lurched. What happened to the unworthy?, What happens if the Power, system or whatever it is finds him Incompatible.
Would he be spat back into the dirt of his old life, his memories scrubbed clean?
Or would the system dissolve him entirely, his body unraveling into atoms for daring to fail?
Worse—would it leave him aware, trapped in some limbo between existence and oblivion?
The thought sent ice flooding his veins.
Around him, the light pulsed—judging, measuring, dissecting.
And Wu Chen could do nothing but wait.
The light consumed Wu Chen entirely—not with fire, but with the terrible, sterile precision of a surgeon's blade.
For an eternity that lasted less than a heartbeat, he ceased to exist. No lungs to breathe. No throat to scream. Only the merciless scrutiny of something vast and alien peeling back the layers of his mind.
[ANALYZING NEURAL ARCHITECTURE]
His memories came not as visions, but as wounds ripped open anew—
—The acid burn of stomach acid when he'd gone three days without food.
—The copper taste of his own teeth when he refused to give what he own to stronger youth.
—The way his fingers had trembled the first time he'd held a knife to defend himself.
Stop.
Wu Chen fought like a cornered animal, but resistance was meaningless here. This was not a place for flesh or willpower.
[WARNING: RESISTANCE DETECTED]
Pain followed—not the blunt agony of broken bones, but something infinitely worse. The sensation of his very self being unraveled, thread by thread. He would have screamed if he can.
Then, as quickly as it came, the pain vanished.
The system's voice dripped into the silence like ink in water.
[ANOMALY DETECTED: PSYCHIC SCARRING EXCEEDS BASELINE]
[RECALIBRATING TEST PARAMETERS]
The void convulsed.
The blinding light fractured into a thousand shards, each reflecting a different version of himself not just who he was—but who he might become.
—A child huddled in filth, sobbing as rain soaked through his rags.
—A young man with dead eyes pressing a dagger between a guard's ribs.
—A conqueror clad in armor forged from fallen stars, his shadow stretching across continents.
The visions multiplied—a hundred lives, a thousand deaths, all spinning around him in a dizzying carousel of might-have-beens and never-weres.
Time stretched. Collapsed. Twisted in on itself.
Then -
Reversal.
The kaleidoscope of possible selves sucked backward like water down a drain. Wu Chen gasped as he found himself standing once more in the shimmering void, his body whole but his mind still reeling from the visions.
The Voice spoke, and the cosmos trembled:
"If suffering could not break you..."
A pause that stretched between heartbeats.
"...then power will not corrupt you."
The words landed like a verdict. Wu Chen's breath caught. Had he - ?
"This test," the Voice continued, "you have passed."
The realization struck Wu Chen like a physical blow - he had passed not despite his suffering, but because of it.
The Voice's judgment echoed in his mind:
The starving child who never stopped fighting...
The beaten youth who refused to become cruel...
The desperate boy who wouldn't be the Dog of Another, even when it might have saved him...
These weren't weaknesses. They were the unbroken core of who he was.
A bitter laugh escaped Wu Chen's lips. All those years in the gutters, every moment of pain and humiliation - they had been building to this. The thought was almost funny. He'd cursed his fate a thousand times, never imagining it was secretly forging him into something capable of standing before gods.
"At least..." he whispered to himself
"...my past can stay buried now."
The promise of it made his chest tight - no more hunger. No more cowering. A chance to write a new story where he wasn't just surviving, but-
"But the trial is not complete." The voice Echoed
Wu Chen's head snapped up.
What?
The euphoria curdled in his veins. The power still gathered around him, but now it felt like the charged moment before an executioner's axe falls.
He was already very happy imagining what kind of rewards this Trial would bestow upon him.
What his new Life would be like.
But then test is saying the Trial isn't over, Then what happens if he fails in the remaining Trial.
Why does it feel like the voice is playing with his emotions.
"Are you kidding me?!" The words tore from his throat before he could stop them.
He'd endured. He'd proven himself. Wasn't that enough?
A cold suspicion crept in - had this all been some cruel joke? One final test of his patience before the real torment began? His hands clenched so hard his nails drew blood.
The Voice gave no explanation. Only that same terrible, infinite patience.
Wu Chen swallowed hard.
Fine.
If there was more to prove, he'd prove it. If there was more to suffer, he'd suffer it.
After everything, what was one more trial?
The Voice's final words hung in the air like a sword suspended above his neck:
Then it continued
"You did not lose yourself in the past."
A heartbeat of silence. Then—
The Voice changed.
Where before it had been ancient and implacable, now it took on something darker—the razor edge of a blade being drawn slowly across stone.
"Now..."
The light around Wu Chen began to pulse, each throb sending cracks spiderwebbing through reality itself.
"...let us see what you make of the future."
Wu Chen's mouth opened—to protest, to demand answers—but the world erupted before sound could form.
Light.
Blinding. All-consuming.
And Wu Chen was gone.