2025-10-23 00:58:55The Ancient One stood before Marco, his eyes gleaming with wisdom.
The Trial of Wisdom awaits, Marco Valenti. Are you prepared to face your greatest challenge yet?
Marco steeled himself.
I'm ready. Let's begin.
The Ancient One nodded, raising his staff.
The air shimmered as he drew intricate symbols on the ground – the Trial of Wisdom.
These symbols represent knowledge, logic, and intuition.
You must solve the trial's puzzles and riddles to claim the Crest of Wisdom.
Suddenly, the chamber filled with a blinding light.
When the light faded, Marco found himself standing in a vast library filled with ancient tomes and mysterious artifacts.
A figure approached him – an old man with spectacles and a kind smile.
Welcome, young warrior.
I am the Guardian of Wisdom , Solve my riddles, and you shall claim the Crest.
The Guardian handed Marco a parchment with the first riddle: What can be broken, but never held? What can be given, but never sold?
Marco furrowed his brow, puzzling over the riddle.
What can be broken, but never held? What can be given, but never sold?
He thought of swords, glass , and forgiveness , but none seemed quite right.
Frustration grew within him.
Is there a hint? Something to help me? Marco asked the Guardian.
The Guardian shook his head, his eyes twinkling with wisdom.
You must do this yourself, Marco Valenti.
Nobody can help you , The answer lies within your own mind and heart.
Marco took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
He focused on the riddle, repeating it to himself.
What can be broken... but never held?
Suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind – Sophia's promise to always be there for him, a promise that could be broken but never physically held in his hands.
And what can be given... but never sold?
Another memory appeared – his mother's love, freely given but priceless and impossible to sell.
Marco's eyes snapped open.
The answer is a promise! A promise is something that can be broken but never held, given but never sold!
The Guardian congratulated Marco with a warm smile.
Well done, young warrior.
Here is your next riddle: What is always coming but never arrives? What has a head, but never weeps? What has a bed, but never sleeps?
Marco thought deeply, but his mind remained blank. Hours passed as he sat pondering the riddle.
As night fell in the library, Marco slumped over the table, exhausted.
I don't understand this riddle, he admitted to the Guardian.
No matter how hard I think, the answer eludes me.
The Guardian nodded sympathetically.
This riddle requires patience and intuition.
Sometimes, the answer lies not in thinking, but in feeling.
Marco sighed, rubbing his temples.
I've been thinking and feeling for hours.
I still have nothing.
The Guardian leaned forward, his eyes twinkling.
Perhaps you are overthinking it.
Try letting go of your thoughts and listen to your heart.
Marco closed his eyes, taking slow breaths.
He let go of his thoughts, focusing on his heartbeat and the silence around him.
But still, no answer came.
Suddenly, Marco opened his eyes and asked the Guardian: Can I ask you something about the riddle?
Marco looked at the Guardian intensely.
Are the three questions in the riddle actually... the same answer? I mean, is it one thing that's always coming but never arrives, has a head but never weeps, and has a bed but never sleeps?
The Guardian smiled, nodding his head.
You are absolutely on the right path, young warrior.
The three questions indeed point to the same answer.
Marco's eyes widened, excitement growing within him.
Then I have a guess... but it sounds crazy.
Is the answer... a river?
The Guardian's face lit up with delight.
Tell me, why do you think the answer is a river?
Marco explained eagerly:
A river is always flowing or 'coming' but never actually arrives at a destination.
A river has a 'head' or source but it never weeps or cries.
A river has a 'bed' or channel but it never sleeps!
It's always flowing!
The Guardian applauded, a warm smile on his face.
You are absolutely right, Marco Valenti!
The answer is indeed a river!
I am impressed by your wisdom and intuition.
Marco beamed with pride, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders.
Does this mean I pass the Trial of Wisdom?
The Guardian nodded.
Almost. You have one more task. Solve one final riddle, and the Crest of Wisdom shall be yours.
He handed Marco a small, delicate box with a riddle etched onto its lid: What can only be seen by closing your eyes?
Marco thought deeply, but no answer flowed to him.
He could only stare at the box, his mind blank.
Frustrated, he dropped the box, the riddle still unsolved.
The Guardian watched him, then asked a surprising question:
Marco Valenti, how can you relate the answer 'river' to yourself?
What does a river represent in your own life?
Marco looked up, curious.
What do you mean by that question ?
The Guardian repeated his question to make it clear to him : How can you relate the river to yourself, to your quest, to your mission against Ruby?
Marco pondered deeply, connecting the dots between the river and his journey.
A river... flows constantly, overcoming obstacles and challenges.
It adapts, changing course when needed.
And eventually, it reaches its destination, fulfilling its purpose.
He looked up at the Guardian.
I relate to the river because my journey against Ruby is similar, Marco explained.
I've faced many obstacles, adapting and persevering to reach my goal – defeating Ruby.
The Guardian smiled warmly.
Your wisdom and self-awareness are impressive, Marco Valenti.
However... the third riddle remains unsolved.
Marco looked down, disappointed.
The box... I still don't know what can only be seen by closing my eyes.
The Guardian placed a hand on Marco's shoulder.
Do not worry. The answer will come to you when the time is right.
Suddenly, the answer hit Marco like a wave.
The answer is... my heart! Or rather, what's in my heart – my thoughts, desires, and soul.
I can only see into my own heart by closing my eyes!
Excited, Marco lifted the lid of the box, and a small key lay inside.
What does this key open? Marco asked the Guardian.
The Guardian pointed to a door beside him, one Marco hadn't noticed before.
You will have to do this one yourself, the Guardian said.
The Crest of Wisdom is inside.
Whatever you see in there will have to stay between you and you alone.
Marco's curiosity grew.
He took the key, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.
As he stepped inside, what he saw crossed his mind...
Marco's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat.
He stood there for what felt like an eternity, frozen in shock and awe.
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The Fourth Fragment’s Trail
The void pulsed with a sinister rhythm, every beat echoing like a drum of inevitability. Marco felt the fragments against his chest, their combined light now blazing, guiding him to the next step—but the path was not just ahead; it was within.As he stepped forward, the shadows thickened, condensing into shapes that were both familiar and terrifying. Malakai’s voice, silky and venomous, flowed through the void.“Ah… Marco Valenti,” he said, voice low and mocking. “You’ve come so far… and yet, do you truly believe you can claim what is mine? That you can reach her before I consume what remains?”Marco’s grip on the fragments tightened. “She’s not yours! She’s not gone!”A wave of darkness surged at him, crushing his chest with its weight. Shapes formed—walls of memories, warped and twisted. He saw Sophia again, her face pale and frightened, reaching for him. But Malakai’s shadow coiled around her, gripping, dragging, twisting the scene into a nightmare.Marco staggered, almost fa
A glimpse of the Fourth Fragment
The void had grown colder.Not just the absence of warmth, but the absence of hope, light, and certainty. Every step Marco took carried a weight heavier than stone, as if the void itself measured the cost of his mission and found it wanting.The third fragment hummed against his chest, its white light fading slightly but still pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Its glow illuminated the path ahead, jagged and treacherous, a bridge of fractured stone stretching over an abyss of endless black.He forced one foot forward, then another.A whisper slithered across the void, soft but unmistakable. “Marco Valenti…”His pulse spiked. The voice was everywhere at once, soft, menacing and familiar.Malakai.The shadow coiled around him, twisting the light of the fragments into serpents of dark energy that hissed and lunged for his mind.“Did you really think it would be that easy?” the voice said. “Did you really think that collecting fragments would bring her back without cost?”Marco’s ja
the Third Fragment
The void shifted around Marco, the bleak darkness folding inward, stretching, reshaping into something new.After Malakai’s retreat, silence settled—an unnerving quiet that felt less like peace and more like the world holding its breath.Marco exhaled shakily, one hand pressed to his chest where the second fragment still glowed faintly beneath his ribs. The warmth it gave him was a modest comfort, a reminder that he had won a small victory. But fragments were not resurrected and the path ahead was growing darker.He moved forward.The ground beneath him changed from shadow to hardened, glassy stone. Veins of pale blue light slid through the surface, pulsing slowly like the heartbeat of something ancient. The air thinned, cold and sharp. The third realm of the Shadowfold was waking, aware of him, sensing the foreign light he carried.He forced his steps to stay steady.“You can do this,” Marco whispered to himself. “For Sophia.”The thought steadied him more than the fragment’s ligh
hope in hidden places
The glow of the second fragment still burned faintly in Marco’s chest, a white-hot pulse that both steadied and shattered him.The Shadowfold had retreated for now, curling into distant corners like a wounded beast, but he knew it would not stay down for long.And he was not alone.A ripple in the darkness shifted his attention. The void itself trembled, the black mist convulsing as if inhaling sharply.Then he felt it.A presence cold and familiar, dragging against the edges of his consciousness, probing, testing.Malakai.Marco’s stomach dropped, and his hands tightened around the fragment.“Not now,” he whispered. “I don’t have time for this, I don't have time for your mind games and tricks.”But the Shadowfold was his conduit, and in this place, there was no escape.A shape emerged from the darkness, Tall, Lean, draped in shadows that seemed to writhe like serpents. Malakai’s eyes—sharp, merciless, and impossibly dark—pierced Marco like twin blades.“You’re persistent,” Malakai
the second fragment
The Shadowfold shifted around Marco as he pressed forward.The darkness was no longer passive, It pulsed, like a living heart with uneven beats, echoing against the walls of his mind.Every step carried weight—the memory of Sophia, her laughter, her hope, a fragile thread guiding him deeper into the void.And yet, he could feel the presence of the second fragment before he even saw it.It was closer.He could sense it, a tug at the edge of his consciousness , a whisper of warmth hidden beneath the cold, relentless shadow.But as he reached for it, the Shadowfold reacted.The darkness thickened, Shapes emerged.This time, not illusions or masks—but memories.The floor beneath him became cobblestone streets, familiar yet fractured.Houses loomed with missing walls.Children played—but their faces melted into ash as he watched.And there, standing on a burned-out doorstep…Sophia.She smiled at him, small and warm, reaching for his hand.“Marco, please don't come , why are you here?” she
The Shadowfold
Darkness filled the air , Not absence of light—no.This was darkness that touched back, that breathed, that noticed , that felt.Marco felt it immediately: the pull.Like invisible threads hooking into his nerves, tugging gently, testing him.The Shadowfold did not welcome intruders.It studied them.Marco took a step forward.The ground… was not ground, maybe something of imagination, It flexed like soft leather, sinking slightly beneath his weight.He forced his voice steady.“Sophia… I’m here.”No echo replied.Sound behaved strangely here—swallowed by the void.He kept walking.At first Marco simply felt cold, Then he began to feel… forgetting.It started small , little by little he lost himself.He tried to recall the scent of the Mountain air—sharp with ice and old stone.But it slipped away.He tried to remember the color of Aria’s eyes — Gone, he couldn’t remember. He tried to see Sophia’s face — and for a heartbeat, he couldn’t , why couldn't he remember.Panic flared.No—no
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