Gunmage-Chapter 24: Trial of the Unworthy

Lugh wondered how things had come to this.

One moment, he was watching a brutal melee unfold between two soldiers.

The next, he was writhing on the floor of an enchanted forest, barely clinging to consciousness.

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Then, a pitch-black portal swallowed him whole, and suddenly, he was here—standing in an endless white void.

And, apparently, he'd been possessed.

This was the explanation he'd been givien, but their words only made him more uneasy. It hadn't lasted long, yet it felt as though a massive chunk of his life had been stolen, leaving only a hollow space behind.

Then came the knight.

The place they were in wasn't hot or cold. It was eerily neutral, as if the concept of temperature didn't exist in it. And yet, a chill seeped into their bones when the knight first appeared.

It towered over them—nine feet tall, clad in rusty, battered armor, its abnormally large shadow stretched behind it like an abstract cape.

In its hands, it wielded an enchanted sword, the edges gleaming with an unnatural violet glow. This was the kind of being that should have inspired awe, perhaps even reverence, a figure worthy of legend.

But the raw animosity radiating from it crushed all thoughts of admiration.

When it moved, the very air seemed to fracture around it, as though reality itself struggled to contain its presence.

Ozan's grip on his knife tightened until his knuckles turned white. Lyra's breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow movements.

Lugh tried to analyze the situation, looking for a chance of, if not victory, then at least escape. There was nothing.

Its overbearing gaze was hidden behind its visor, but they all felt it, weighing down on them, like a hand pressing on their very souls.

Then, without warning, the knight vanished.

Its shadow shifted, and in the blink of an eye, it was in front of Ozan, bringing its sword down with earth-shattering might.

The very air distorted around the strike, the blade cutting not just through space but through something deeper—something fundamental.

Ozan barely managed to dodge, instincts honed by years of combat kicking in just in time. The blade missed him by mere inches, but the force of the swing alone was enough to send a shockwave tearing through his sleeve, flaying the skin beneath it.

He barely registered the pain before the sword struck the ground.

A deafening explosion.

The impact sent him flying, the force slamming into his ribs with enough power to crack them. He hit the ground hard, his vision swimming.

Ignoring the intense pain, he struggled to right himself, his heart pounding with a familiar feeling. The feeling of scraping past death.

A sharp metallic ring cut through the void as Lyra unsheathed her dagger. Ozan met her gaze, and without exchanging a word, they both moved.

Ozan struck first, charging at the knight and slashing at its armor. The blade skidded uselessly against the rusted metal, not even leaving a scratch. He had expected it to be brittle, but it wasn't.

It was as if the rust was a lie, a disguise for something indestructible.

The knight turned, raising its sword to cut him down, but before it could, Lyra was already mid-air, her dagger aimed at the exposed gap between its helmet and chest plate.

She didn't even make as much success as Ozan. Against the laws of physics, her dagger, as well as its wielder, hung in mid-air, like an insect trapped in amber. A casual swat, and Lyra was sent tumbling back, her bones cracking under the pressure.

Think, Lugh. Think.

Ozan and Lyra were the only ones fighting, the others were completely shaken, knowing that resistance was futile.

Dain's eyes darted around, searching for an exit. Emil was already on the ground, clutching his head in silent terror. Even Aldric, normally composed and talkative, had frozen in place.

Lugh was still trying to piece things together.

This battle was too one-sided. Why did it feel like this place was specifically designed for them to lose?

Surely whatever brought them here needn't have gone through this much trouble? If they were meant to die, why not just kill them outright?

'I'm missing something'

Then it clicked.

"Prove thyself or be devoured."

What did that mean? What had Ozan been talking about?

Lugh turned to Aldric.

"Did I say anything else? A clue? A hint?"

Aldric hesitated, thinking back.

"Yes! Before that, you said, 'Strength is insufficient to seize victory.'"

Lugh repeated the phrase under his breath. Strength alone wasn't enough—so what was?

Before he could figure it out, Dain made his move.

The lieutenant sprinted forward, he had no weapons, only his bare fists and the iron will of a man prepared to die.

The knight quickly moved to punish his insolence, it swung its blade horizontally. The shock wave of the slash caused a boom that sent even Lugh flying away.

But, Lieutenant Dain had already slid on the ground, narrowly avoiding the death blow.

In a fluid motion, he reached up and snatched something from the knight's waist.

Lugh's eyes widened. That was it.

Dain stepped back and pulled the weapon from its sheath. It was a dagger, and from the looks of it, also enchanted.

He flipped it in his hand before tossing it to Ozan.

"A trade for my knife,"

He said simply.

Ozan caught it and smiled, testing the weight of the blade. If the knight's armor was impervious to attacks, then their only chance of survival was to turn its own weapons against it.

He felt a surge of confidence when—

The knight spoke.

"Unworthy."

The voice was deep, ancient, carrying the weight of something far beyond human comprehension. It wasn't an insult. It was a declaration, a universal truth spoken into existence.

Lyra tightened her grip on her dagger, but her hands trembled. Dain took an involuntary step back. Even Ozan, who had been grinning moments before, felt his body grow cold when he realized—

—Up until now, they had been focused solely on surviving. The thought of winning had never even crossed their minds.

It felt like even thinking of victory was blasphemy.

"Run!"

The words involuntarily left Ozan's lips, even though he knew that there was nowhere to run to.

His mind screamed on instinct, but his body moved anyway; there was nothing else he could do.

He charged forward with a cry, thrusting the enchanted dagger forward. The knight caught his wrist mid-strike. A sickening crack echoed through the void.

Ozan's arm shattered like glass, the bones splintering beyond repair. The dagger slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. He stifled his scream, but the pain was unbearable.

Still, he wasn't done.

He brought down his other fist, not because it could cause any particular damage, not because he was desperate, it was just his final act of defiance.

His fist struck the breastplate uselessly, the knight didn't flinch.

The sword came down, piercing Ozan's chest, its enchantment igniting his very blood.

His veins glowed from within, his flesh burned in a way no natural fire could replicate.

By the time he hit the ground, his body was already turning to ash.

The knight barely acknowledged the sacrifice.

It simply turned its gaze to the others and spoke one final word.

"Next."