The moment Lasron's trembling finger touched the words "Difficulty S+ Challenge" on the system screen, an unnerving chill ran down his spine. The sharp "ding" resonated in his mind, like the sound of a heavy, ancient gate groaning open, heralding an inescapable destiny. The ethereal screen before his eyes vanished, returning him to the chaotic scene of the poor market, but the world in Lasron's eyes was now entirely different. Despair lingered, yet mingled with it was a strange acceptance, a terrifying stillness of one who had nothing left to lose.

  The whispers and curious gazes of the surrounding crowd no longer seemed to reach him. He staggered to his feet, his body still trembling from the shock of the Awakening, but in his eyes, the flickering light of false hope had been extinguished, replaced by a cold emptiness. He didn't know where to go, what to do next. Would someone come to guide him, or would he be left here to die?

  Just then, a familiar, hoarse voice cut through Lasron's muddled thoughts. "You little brat, get up already! Who do you think you are, collapsing here and playing act?"

  It was Grak, the slave driver with the long scar on his face. He had witnessed the whole thing, or at least seen Lasron fall. Perhaps the System had notified the slave owners about the children who had Awakened. Grak approached, his leather whip in hand, but his eyes lacked their usual ferocity, replaced by a strange mix of curiosity and an indescribable contempt. He didn't know what trial Lasron had chosen, nor how pitifully low his stats were, but to Grak, an Awakened slave was still just a slave.

  "Heard today's the day to take you brats to the Shrine of Acknowledgment," Grak growled. "Follow me. Don't try anything funny, or you know the consequences."

  Lasron said nothing, merely bowing his head and silently following Grak. He had no strength left to resist, nor any reason to. Fate had been sealed, and the S+ path awaited him.

  The road to the Shrine of Acknowledgment - or the Trial Shrine, as it was more colloquially known - was long and dusty. They passed through the squalid streets of the slums, then out to the outskirts where buildings grew sparser, giving way to desolate fields and barren hills. Lasron had never traveled this far. His world had previously been confined to a few streets and the market where he struggled to survive. The air here was a little cleaner, yet it still carried the scent of poverty and desperation.

  Occasionally, Grak would glance at Lasron with a scrutinizing gaze. He couldn't understand why this kid was so silent. Other children, upon learning they were going to the Trial Shrine, even if fearful, usually showed some excitement or curiosity. But Lasron was different, like a shadow, a half-dead soul.

  After nearly half a day of exhausting walking under the harsh sun, they finally reached a large, flat area at the foot of a majestic mountain. From a distance, Lasron could see an ancient, massive stone structure - the Shrine of Acknowledgment. And towering above everything, silhouetted against the blue sky, was an image that made his heart skip a beat.

  A colossal tower, so tall it seemed to pierce the clouds, loomed into view. Its body was made of some strange material that sometimes shimmered like metal in the sunlight, and at other times bore a deep, mystical black hue. Lasron could only see the base and a section of its trunk; the rest was obscured by a sea of white clouds.

  "Is... is that the Nonaria Tower everyone whispers about?" Lasron thought involuntarily, his eyes fixed on the magnificent sight. "The place only for powerful Conquerors, those who have overcome their trials and are permitted to ascend its higher floors?" He felt so small, so insignificant before the tower's grandeur. A sense of inferiority and self-pity washed over his young soul. Could someone with a total of 10 stat points like him ever dream of setting foot in there?

  As they drew closer, Lasron saw that the shrine courtyard was already quite crowded. Most were children around his age, twelve or thirteen, accompanied by adults. Some children were dressed elegantly, their faces bright, escorted by parents or servants, their eyes shining with confidence and eagerness. Others were more shabbily dressed, likely commoners or from poor families; they stood close to their relatives, their faces showing a mixture of anxiety and faint hope. And, of course, there was a small group of slave children like Lasron, in ragged clothes, their faces smudged with dirt, cowering under the supervision of grim-faced overseers.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Lasron was shoved by Grak to stand with the slave group, trying to shrink himself down to avoid attention. He heard the children around him chattering excitedly, their tones a mix of worry, hope, and even a touch of pride.

  "I only got 23 points," a scrawny, pale-faced boy whispered to his friend, "I'll probably just dare to pick D. I heard those with 20 to 25 total stats should choose Difficulty D, it usually only takes 1 to 3 days to finish. Pray I get through it smoothly!"

  His friend, looking slightly better off, patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, your score is perfect for D. I got 28 points, I'm torn between D and C. Difficulty C is for those with 26 to 30 points, heard it's much harder, could take 5 to 15 days, but the rewards are definitely better. Sigh, it's a tough choice!"

  Not far off, a lavishly dressed boy, perhaps the son of a merchant or minor noble, was boasting to his surrounding friends, "What are you guys worried about? Look at me, 34 points, definitely choosing B. Difficulty B, suitable for those with 30 to 35 points. It might take about 20 to 30 days, but my father said if I pass, I'll have a chance to go straight to the Royal Knight Academy. By then, even if you wanted to be my attendants, you might not even qualify!" He guffawed, smugness written all over his face.

  Lasron overheard someone even discussing Difficulty A, a trial said to be for those with 35 to 42 points, with a completion time that could stretch from 40 to 80 days - a figure he dared not imagine.

  Then he heard a deeper voice, likely an adult advising their child or a more knowledgeable child explaining to their group: "...as for Difficulty S, that's a whole different league, only for those with a total stat score of 43 or higher. I heard it lasts at least 3 months, some even took a whole year to complete - that's a historical record. And that’s just regular S! Within that S trial, there are three main zones. They say the first zone alone is as difficult as a high-tier C trial, and the third zone is a special challenge, its contents unknown beforehand. The rewards are incredibly generous - a special skill and a hidden stat, but the price to pay isn't something everyone can bear."

  Lasron listened to the chatter, each piece of information like a knife twisting deeper into his already bleeding heart. Difficulty D needed 20-25 points. And he, with his miserable 10 points, was forced into S+. If regular S was already so terrifying, what would his S+ be? His heart grew heavier. Difficulty D, C, B, A, S... those were now as distant to him as stars in the sky he could never reach. He didn't dare imagine how long the S+ trial would last, or if he could even survive a single day.

  In the middle of the vast courtyard stood a colossal magic portal. It was formed by swirling, multi-colored energies that constantly shifted, creating a sensation that was both fantastical and frightening. Children, after their names were called and something was confirmed with the black-robed Shrine administrators, would walk towards the portal one by one. They would stand before it for a moment, apparently interacting with a system interface only they could see, and then a beam of light from the portal would envelop them, and they would vanish.

  Lasron understood that, depending on the difficulty chosen in their personal system, the magic portal would send them to corresponding trial spaces. Only the children themselves knew which trial they had selected. The burden of choice, the secret of destiny, each had to bear it alone. This made Lasron feel even more isolated. His S+ choice, an unspeakable selection, a death sentence hanging over him.

  While waiting for his turn, Lasron's gaze inadvertently fell upon a huge, imposing stone statue placed in the most honored position in the shrine courtyard. The statue depicted a middle-aged man with a resolute face, his eyes gazing into the distance, his hand resting on the hilt of a greatsword. At the foot of the statue was an inscription in an ancient script that Lasron couldn't read, but he heard a nearby Shrine administrator explaining to a group of visitors: "This is the statue of the Great Emperor Kaiser, the Indomitable Conqueror, who pioneered and reigned on the thirtieth floor of Nonaria Tower, the highest level our humanity has ever reached."

  The thirtieth floor! Lasron couldn't imagine how high, how magnificent it was. Emperor Kaiser, a name he only dared hear in legends, a symbol of ultimate power and strength. This made his S+ choice seem even more ludicrous and hopeless. Could someone like him ever hope to even glimpse the shadow of such individuals?

  Finally, Lasron's name was called by a Shrine administrator, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. Grak shoved him hard in the back. "It's your turn, brat. Don't embarrass me."

  Lasron stumbled towards the magic portal, each step as heavy as lead. He looked at no one, nor did he pay attention to the curious or pitying gazes directed at him. In his mind now, only the image of the blood-red, glowing words "Difficulty S+ Challenge" remained.

  He stood before the swirling energy portal, feeling the cold aura emanating from it. He knew that with just a confirmatory thought, the System would send him to his predetermined hell. There was no turning back.

  With a heavy sigh, a bitter acceptance of his fate, Lasron closed his eyes. "Ready."

  A blinding light enveloped his small frame, and in the next instant, Lasron vanished from the Shrine of Acknowledgment, beginning the cruelest trial in history.