Sentinels, often described as hollow guards, exist not only in our realm but also within parallel dimensions, acting as vigilant overseers of the myriad test models. These test models are individuals who have been reincarnated into this reality during their initial trial period, a time meant for growth and assessment of their adaptability to different circumstances. The role of the Sentinels is crucial; they embody the ever-watchful eyes that ensure the balance and stability of the environments where these models are tested.
Typically, Sentinels prefer to remain concealed, lurking in the shadows, where they can observe the unfolding events without drawing attention to themselves. Their primary mission is to monitor the progress of each test model and ensure that everything is functioning as it should. They are the unseen guardians, silently collecting data, detecting anomalies, and intervening only when absolutely necessary. Their discretion is key; the fewer disturbances in the trial periods, the more significant the insights gained regarding human resilience and adaptability.
However, the emergence of these Sentinels from their hidden realms is exceedingly rare and sends alarm bells ringing throughout the dimensions. When they reveal themselves, it signifies that circumstances have escalated to a critical point. The presence of a Sentinel in plain sight often indicates that something catastrophic is looming or that an impending disaster is about to unfold. It suggests a breakdown in the stability of the test models' environments or a profound disturbance that could affect countless lives.
This stark change can cause panic among the test models, who may sense an unsettling shift in their reality. With the Sentinels now actively involved, the trials take on an air of urgency, and the implications become far more serious. The test models must navigate their challenges with heightened awareness, knowing that the stakes have risen dramatically. In this moment of revelation, they may be prompted to confront not only their individual struggles but also the larger forces at play that could alter their fates and the very fabric of their existence. The watchers have become the actors, and the chapters of their trials are about to unfold in ways they have never anticipated.
The Arrival of the Sentinels
A cold wind howled through the desolate battlefield, carrying with it an unnatural silence that weighed heavily in the air. Dylan shivered, not just from the chill, but from the creeping unease that slithered down his spine. Another gust surged forward—this time stronger, sharper—making his skin prickle with warning.
*Something's wrong.*
"Why am I feeling this all of a sudden?" Dylan muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the eerie stillness like a blade.
Melissa didn't turn to look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was colder than the wind itself.
**"They have finally arrived."**
Dylan's pulse spiked. "What? Who are they—?"
**"Sentinels."** The word left her lips like a death sentence. A slow, chilling smile curled at the edges of her mouth. **"And I've been waiting for this day."**
Before he could react, the shadows *moved*.
At first, it was just a ripple in the darkness—then, like a nightmare given form, an army emerged. Tall, grotesque figures with elongated limbs, their joints bending at unnatural angles like insects poised to strike. Their fingers tapered into razor-sharp blades, glinting under the dim light. Crackled, decaying skin stretched over their frames, pulsing with glowing green veins—*just like Dylan's own power*.
But the most unsettling part? Their faces—or lack thereof. Smooth, featureless masks stared back at him, devoid of eyes, mouths, anything that could betray emotion. Their armor was a grotesque fusion of blackened bone and writhing shadow-smoke, trapped behind glass-like barriers as if the darkness itself had been caged within.
Hundreds of them.
And then—
***CRACK.***
A single Sentinel lunged, faster than light, its bladed fingers aimed straight for Dylan's throat.
But Melissa was faster.
With a flick of her wrist, the air crystallized into a shimmering frost barrier. The spell wasn't meant to kill—it was designed to *weaken*, to slow, to make the enemy vulnerable. The Sentinel's movements turned sluggish, its limbs weighed down by creeping ice.
**"Dylan!"** Melissa barked, her voice sharp with command. **"What are you waiting for? Attack now—this is your chance!"**
Dylan's heart hammered in his chest. This was it. His first real fight. His first time *using* his powers in battle.
*No hesitation.*
He dropped into a fighting stance, his veins igniting with emerald energy. **"Void-born resistance—activate."**
The world around him flickered—just for a split second—as his body phased into a glitching afterimage. **"Void Slip."**
The Sentinel's blade sliced through him—or at least, it *should* have. Instead, his form distorted like a corrupted hologram, reducing the damage to nothing more than a faint sting.
*80 to 85% damage reduction.*
Now it was *his* turn.
His fingers elongated, shifting into monomolecular claws—edges so sharp they could split atoms. With a single, fluid motion, he *slashed*.
The Sentinel's armor offered no resistance. It split apart like paper, its body collapsing into writhing shadows before dissipating into the wind.
Two more lunged at him.
Dylan moved on instinct, his body a blur of motion. Slash. Spin. *Rip.*
One Sentinel fell. Then another.
In the distance, Melissa watched, her lips curling into a grin that bordered on *madness*.
**"Beautiful,"** she breathed, her voice trembling with exhilaration. **"This is exactly what I craved for—AHHAHAHAHAHA!"**
Her laughter echoed across the battlefield, unhinged and triumphant, as the army of Sentinels descended upon them.
And Dylan?
He *grinned back.*
The fight had only just begun.