Selion's vision swam with light and shadow as the searing pain from the contract faded into a persistent burn, a constant reminder that nothing in this place came without cost. He blinked, trying to steady his breathing, but the void around him had not changed. The shattered ruins stretched endlessly, floating aimlessly as though time itself refused to anchor the fragments. And Luke Spellbound still stood before him, tall, composed, and infinitely intimidating.
"You feel it, don't you?" Luke's voice was calm, almost teasing, yet it carried weight that pressed into Selion's chest. "That fire. That hatred. That… potential."
Selion swallowed hard, his fists trembling. "I feel… everything," he admitted, his voice hoarse. He wanted to resist, to run—but he could not. The force of the void held him in place, as if it had judged him unworthy of escape.
"Good," Luke said. He extended a hand, and the symbols beneath Selion's feet writhed and shimmered, glowing brighter than before.
"Then we begin."
***
Luke established 3 trials for Selion to face— These trials were themed based on practical reasoning, survival reasoning, and theoretical reasoning.
The first trial was simple in name, impossible in execution. Selion had to channel his Circle Two magic through the symbols etched into the ground, shaping them into a coherent circle capable of sustaining itself. Simple in theory. Deadly in practice. The first attempt fizzled instantly, sparks shooting out in chaotic bursts that singed his palms. Pain shot through his body, but Luke made no move to help. He merely observed, silent, patient, his presence as oppressive as ever.
"You're weak," Luke said quietly, though the words struck like a whip. "And yet, you survive. That is what makes you dangerous. Not your power… your will."
Selion gritted his teeth. He had survived the Baron's cruelty, the endless abuse, the death of his mother. He could endure this too. He dropped to his knees, feeling the burn in his arms and chest as he tried again, focusing not on the fear, not on the chaos, but on the raw memory of his despair. Pain became fuel, frustration became precision. The sparks faltered, then stabilized. The symbols beneath him wavered… then glowed steadily.
Luke's eyes narrowed, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Hmm. Better."
***
Hours—or maybe days—passed. Time had no meaning here. Every failure pushed Selion further into exhaustion, every success brought a brief surge of triumph, only to be followed by another, more difficult trial. His body ached as if every fiber had been torn apart and sewn back together incorrectly. His mind spun with the complexity of the magic Luke forced him to manipulate. And yet, for the first time, Selion felt alive. Not merely surviving—but creating. Shaping. Controlling.
"You are stubborn," Luke observed at one point, his voice almost amused. "A blessing, and a curse. But stubbornness alone will not save you."
Selion's response was silent, yet firm. He had no voice left. Words were useless here. Action spoke louder than any speech, and he let his body and mind pour into the spellwork, every drop of magic he could summon flowing into the glowing symbols beneath him.
And then it happened.
The circle flared, light spilling outward in a wave that lifted fragments of the ruined void around him, spinning them in perfect harmony. Selion staggered back, gasping for breath, as a sense of something profound settled into his chest. For the first time, he had wielded real magic. Not the broken, flickering attempts that had marked his Circle Two progress in the mortal world—but true, controlled, powerful energy. The exhilaration was intoxicating, almost painful in its intensity.
Luke stepped forward, closer this time, and for a moment Selion could feel the sheer magnitude of the man's presence pressing into him. "Yes," Luke said softly, almost approvingly. "This is how it begins. Not with comfort, not with guidance—but with pain, failure, and the raw insistence to rise above it. You are learning to survive, yes—but more importantly, you are learning to master yourself."
Selion straightened, exhaustion and triumph mingling in every fiber of his being. He knew this was only the beginning. The road ahead would be harder, crueler, and more dangerous than anything he had endured in the Baron's estate. But for the first time, he did not fear it.
"I will not fail," he whispered to himself, eyes scanning the endless void. "I will not be weak. I will become something… more."
Luke's smile widened faintly, his figure fading slightly into the shadows of the floating ruins. "Good," he said. "Because from here on, the world will not wait for you to catch up."
And as Selion stood in the heart of the void, the first sparks of a storm began to stir within him. A storm that would not be ignored.
But the moment that thought settled, the space around him shifted.
The floating ruins trembled, no longer drifting aimlessly but moving with purpose. Massive fragments of broken stone aligned themselves in the air, locking into place as if guided by an unseen will. The ground beneath Selion's feet cracked violently, fractures spreading outward before entire sections broke apart and began to rise, forming a jagged, unstable platform suspended in the endless void.
A low hum filled the air.
It wasn't just sound—it was pressure. Heavy. Suffocating. Alive.
Selion's breathing slowed instinctively as his body tensed. The faint warmth of accomplishment from his earlier success vanished, replaced by something colder, sharper. The magic in the air had changed. It was no longer passive. No longer something he could shape at his own pace.
Now… it was watching him.
Waiting.
Hunting.
Luke's voice echoed once more, no longer close, no longer beside him, but distant—vast, as though it came from the very fabric of the void itself.
"The first trial teaches you control."
The symbols beneath Selion's feet flared violently, far more intricate than before, their patterns twisting into something deeper, something far beyond his understanding. The light they emitted was harsher now, unstable, almost aggressive.
A pause followed.
***
"The second trial…"
The ground beneath Selion shattered completely.
"…begins now."
From the darkness beyond the floating ruins, something moved.
At first, it was only a distortion—like the void itself bending unnaturally. Then it took shape. Massive. Twisted. Wrong. A presence that did not belong, yet existed all the same.
Selion's eyes widened as the pressure slammed into him, forcing his body to tremble, his breath catching sharply in his throat. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to escape, to survive—but there was nowhere to go.
The voice returned, calm and absolute.
"For the second trial… you learn to survive."
The thing in the darkness stepped forward.
And in that moment, Selion understood.
This was no longer training.
This was a hunt.