Time has a way of reshaping people, whether they welcome it or not. As it marches forward, it pushes us to evolve, shaped by the world around us in ways we could never have predicted. But what happens when the world is stripped away—when the environment is nothing but endless black? What force remains to spark that change? With that question lingering, one can’t help but wonder... In this abyss, will these four reveal their true selves, untouched by the influences of the world they once knew?

  ***

  (Back to the present: chapter 1)

  Cole sighed, closing his diary and tucking it away.

  He hadn’t thought the group dynamic would fall apart so quickly. However, it made sense. It was hard to blame them—he was beginning to lose his patience as well. They had been trapped in the Abyss for what felt like days. The oppressive darkness remained unchanging, with no indication of when—or if—the trial would begin. It was odd, the trial should have begun by now. The distorted voice from before had vanished after the mention of the interface, leaving only silence in its wake.

  At least the Abyss didn’t seem to demand much from their bodies. Hunger, thirst, and fatigue were absent, as though the rules of reality had been suspended. Yet that small mercy did little to ease the tension that had settled among them.

  Jake and Hunter’s squabble ended faster than usual this time, leaving a strange quiet in its wake. Cole suspected they argued more to break the monotony than out of genuine conflict. The silence felt heavier than before, pressing down on them like the weight of the Abyss itself.

  “What if…” Cole began, his voice cutting through the stillness. He hesitated, waiting for their attention to shift from the oppressive emptiness back to him. Slowly, their gazes lifted, curiosity flickering in their tired eyes. “What if this is the trial of the Abyss?” His words hung in the air, more a thought voiced aloud than a declaration. “Just… endless waiting. Until a certain amount of time has passed.”

  Hunter scoffed, stretching his back slightly in his endless motion of falling, “A trial like this? Doesn’t sound like much of a challenge, does it?”

  Cole shrugged. “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

  Bea’s soft voice cut in, a calm counterpoint to Hunter’s skepticism. “It would fit, wouldn’t it? In a place where there’s nothing, the real challenge might be finding something to hold onto.”

  Hunter opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself, his lips pressing into a slight pout as he crossed his arms. “Sure,” he said, though the doubt in his tone was unmistakable.

  Cole’s eyes flicked to Jake, who fell quietly. Jake didn’t look like he was faring well—his expression distant. It was subtle, but it was enough to set off alarm bells in Cole’s mind. If Jake cracked, the others might follow. The tenuous thread keeping them tethered to sanity was already snapping.

  Cole bit his tongue, bracing himself. He couldn’t let the group spiral—not now, not ever. But even the thought of trying to lift their spirits felt like a boulder pressing down on his own.

  “Jake,” Cole called, his voice steady, cutting through the void. “What do you do when you’re bored? Something you enjoy.”

  Jake’s gaze shifted toward Cole, his usual sharpness dimmed but still present in his eyes. He thought for a moment before answering, his voice quieter than usual. “I like to look at the canvas in the sky and think.”

  “The canvas in the sky?” Cole repeated, raising a brow.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Yeah,” Jake said, his lips curving ever so slightly. “The talented people—they’re like vibrant colors, filling up the canvas. The way they shine... It’s like they paint the sky with their existence.”

  Cole blinked. ‘Has this guy already lost it?’ he thought. But he caught himself, realizing that everyone here was grasping for something, anything to keep from unraveling. Jake’s metaphor was strange, but it was his way of holding on.

  “Well,” Cole began, softening his tone, “that canvas you’re talking about… I know there’s no sky here, but why not try imagining it?”

  Jake’s lips twitched slightly, his eyes wandering upward as though searching for the invisible sky above them. Despite their endless descent into darkness, he tilted his head back, staring into the black. His gaze moved slowly, lazily, as if he truly saw something up there.

  He didn’t reply immediately. His mouth opened slightly, closed again, and then finally opened once more. “Thanks,” Jake whispered.

  The single word was so soft it might have been swallowed by the black—yet in the oppressive silence of the Abyss, it echoed clearly. Everyone heard it. Vulnerable, fragile, but sincere.

  And for a moment, no one spoke. There was a shared understanding in that silence. Each of them realized they would need to find their own anchor, their own way to withstand the suffocating nothingness that surrounded them.

  Because here, in this place where the world seemed to forget their existence, even a fleeting thought of a painted sky could be enough to keep them tethered.

  As much as he hated it, Cole’s thoughts drifted to The Absolute. The man’s words echoed in his mind: “The trial is not easy.” Cole now understood the weight of those words. Whether it was the oppressive vastness of the Abyss or the looming difficulty of the trial itself, the truth had become clear: he was insignificant. Just a speck in a boundless space. His voice, fears, and strength felt too small to matter.

  But he wasn’t alone. And for that, he was grateful. To have others—however mismatched—meant that he wasn’t bearing the weight of insignificance alone. That small comfort steadied him, even as doubt threatened to consume him.

  The silence that had settled among the four was shattered as a thunderous, distorted voice reverberated through the Abyss, its tone almost inhuman.

  {Your trial will now begin.}

  The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Cole’s body tensed, his mind scrambling to process what was happening. Before he could react, everything changed.

  In an instant, the infinite blackness of the Abyss was gone. The place he had been transported to was still dark, but this was different.

  Cole’s consciousness stirred slowly, his body heavy as if weighed down by invisible chains. His first sensation was the cold—sharp and biting, pressing against his skin like icy needles.

  His heart raced as he reached out, his fingers brushing against smooth stone walls. He was trapped in a small room, devoid of light or sound, except for the faint echo of his own shallow breathing.

  Before panic could take hold, a voice broke the silence—a voice that was calm yet commanding, laced with an undertone of weariness.

  “Today, you march toward death,” it said, resonating in the chamber like a whisper carried by a storm. Cole froze, his hand still against the cold wall.

  The words reverberated, heavy with meaning.

  “But in the face of death,” the voice continued, “freedom may yet be found. The weight of the world is not carried by one man, but by the collective resolve of many. Will you falter beneath that weight, or will you rise, as others before you have done?”

  A sudden rumble shook the room. Dust rained from the ceiling, and the walls groaned as if protesting against the force.

  “Step forward,” The voice commanded. “Our trial begins now.”

  Cole’s body moved instinctively, his feet carrying him toward what he guessed was the center of the room. A faint creaking sound reached his ears, and with a low groan, a pair of enormous iron doors slowly swung open.

  Blinding light flooded the chamber, forcing Cole to shield his eyes. The biting cold was replaced by a wave of heat, the air heavy with smoke. As his vision adjusted, his heart sank.

  Before him stretched a scene of utter chaos. Buildings burned furiously, their skeletal frames collapsing under the weight of the flames. The ground was littered with debris, and shards of glass glinted like stars amidst the wreckage. Screams of terror and cries of pain filled the air, blending with the cacophony of clashing steel and the thunderous roar of explosions.

  This wasn’t just destruction. It was a war.