The Poet's System
Chapter 86: Final Fate Trial 1

Chapter 86: Final Fate Trial 1

"You may walk into a different realm, but time flows the same. A decade here is a decade there," Blind said as they stood before the final trial portal, formed from dimensional relics, its overwhelmingly white and blue glow looming over Daylan.

"You can use this portal on your return, depending on how far your journey takes you." His voice turned cold and grim. "There are no rules. Use any trick you’ve got to defeat it... we’ll be waiting."

Daylan gave him a firm nod before turning to the portal. He had everything—food, healing potions, and all the essential supplies tucked away in his inventory. Yet, fear still crept in. His heart raced like never before, and his body refused to move naturally.

He clenched his trembling fists and stepped through the portal. The moment his foot touched solid ground, a freezing wind swept against his skin, sending a shiver through his body as goosebumps surged across him.

His eyes widened as he looked up, head turning slowly. The cold was unlike anything he had ever felt—deep, biting. Despite being fully clothed, his body trembled uncontrollably. His teeth chattered, clashing again and again as he struggled to keep his mouth shut.

Before his eyes stood a breathtaking, ethereal ice-dark dungeon—an awe-inspiring natural wonder sculpted entirely from ice and rock.

Towering icicles hung like frozen daggers from the dungeon’s ceiling, while smooth sheets of ice lined the walls, glistening with a pale blue luminescence.

At the center, melted drops from the icicles formed a small stream, flowing gently along a narrow path.

In an instant, the system snapped him out of his daze.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

Welcome to the Final Fate Trial, Daylan Rhys.

First mission on the path of fate: clear the ice dungeon of dark creatures.

Daylan blinked repeatedly. "I thought I was going to face my system," he said, his voice etched with obvious confusion. But his expression shifted instantly as realization dawned. His voice echoed loudly through the dungeon.

He immediately activated Dark Spiral and summoned his dagger. But numbness quickly crept through his body as the cold intensified, the wind biting against his skin. He summoned his gloves and mask, covering every part of his body he could.

He began taking steady steps forward, unwilling to rush into anything unprepared. For thirty minutes, he walked straight ahead but found nothing—until he came upon a giant block of ice blocking his path. It stood nearly three times his height. He tilted his head back and studied it carefully.

Is this a dead end?—He paused, took a few steps back to get a better look, and his eyes widened instantly.

This isn’t a dead end... those are giant stairs.

From his vantage point, the stairs weren’t very clear, but how many there were—that was what he intended to find out. He studied them carefully and attempted to teleport—but it didn’t work. He tried again, only to find himself back in the same spot.

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

Warning: Teleportation is prohibited at the advanced level for the trial. Any further attempts will result in an appropriate penalty.

Daylan’s expression darkened as he stood there, feeling a bit defeated. Without teleportation, climbing seemed daunting—he didn’t want to waste all his energy before facing his system. But if he was going to stand against a giant as small as an ant, he had no choice but to climb.

He tried to pierce his dagger into the ice, but its surface was as hard as steel. Bracing himself, he stepped back, then dashed forward with all his might.

Planting his leg against the wall to gain momentum, he hurled himself over the barrier. He rolled on the floor to land safely, then immediately grinned and brushed the dust off his shoulders.

He didn’t waste any time and used the same technique on the next stair. But between the second and third steps, the walls were coated in thick, reflective ice—just like the stairs. Now, his only way up was whatever his dagger could carve out.

He began using the hilt of his dagger to dig small holes into both the stairs and the walls. The thickness proved challenging—it took him nearly two hours just to make two holes for his plan.

The moment he finished, gripping his dagger tightly, he plunged it into one of the holes. Steeling himself, he pulled upward with his hands, stretched out his left leg, and planted it in the hole he’d dug in the wall. Slowly, he maneuvered his way up, resting most of his weight on the dagger but staying calm and steady.

He then reached out with his left hand, relying on the dagger’s durability to bounce himself upward and leap for the edge of the next step. He failed on his first attempt but remained composed. He tried again—and failed once more.

On the third try, his fingers found a better grip, but just as he made progress, the dagger snapped beneath him.

He tilted his head, watching the hilt of his dagger rest on the floor while the blade remained stuck in the hole. A brokenhearted sigh escaped him before he finally pulled himself up to the third floor.

Luckily for him, that was the last one. He collapsed onto the floor, letting the blood flow back into his cold fingers. He hadn’t even rested for a full minute before footsteps echoed nearby.

He conjured smaller blades and sprang to his feet, melting into the shadows. The only path forward was to the left, so he stayed perfectly still, unseen. He waited for the right moment to strike as the footsteps drew closer.

The footsteps grew closer, just steps away, yet he saw nothing—not even with his incredible night vision.

There was no breath, no scent; it was as if whoever it was simply wasn’t there. Daylan slipped silently behind the sound, and ahead, a faint shade of light glowed from the only path—the right.

He closed the distance in an instant and waited silently as the footsteps retreated from the stairs, moving toward the light. Daylan had to wait impatiently for about twenty minutes—just for the footsteps to cover the same ground he had crossed in mere seconds.

But the moment the footsteps entered the light, his eyes widened. Before him stood a being made of pure darkness. Its head was a perfect sphere, its neck and legs no thicker than two of his fingers, and the rest of its body barely the size of his wrist. It held two massive swords—blades that seemed fused with its hands.

Daylan stood motionless, watching the dark creature. How it managed to walk was a mystery—especially since it had no eyes, ears, mouth, or even a nose to breathe.

Daylan swallowed nervously, tightening his grip on the small blades. He had no intention of letting it get away.

He dashed forward and hurled the blades, but the dark creature’s reflexes were razor-sharp—it spun and blocked them effortlessly with its swords. But Daylan gave it no time to recover.

Seizing the moment, he slid across the icy floor, dodging its blades, and as he passed, he sprang to his feet and slammed its head into the wall, shattering it into pieces. The creature evaporated instantly, dissolving into dark ashes swept away by the wind.

Daylan began to feel uneasy. He had expected demonic creatures—or at the very least, wild beasts. But this... this was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Considering its reflexes and the fact that he couldn’t even see it in the dark, facing many of them would be a hellish challenge.

Even so, he didn’t dwell on his confusion for long and continued moving forward—the path ahead was also dark. After a few steps, he reached a fork in the path—left or right.

Without hesitation, he took the right. It wasn’t long before he encountered another split: forward or right. Again, he chose the right.

He walked steadily for what felt like an eternity, yet saw no sign of any creature.

Eventually, he reached a dead end—with the only path continuing to the left, where water glimmered in the distance.

Daylan sighed in disappointment, brushing his hands against his clothes. He was freezing. His lips were dry, and the icy air escaping his mouth and nose spoke volumes. With Dark Spiral deactivated, he could feel every inch of the cold seeping into his body.

He was about to turn back and take a different path when he heard it—footsteps. From the sound alone, there were many of them... twenty or more, at least.

He steeled himself and moved cautiously toward the sound. As he neared the water, he realized it came from the melting icicles above—it wasn’t a large body of water, and just to its left was where the footsteps echoed. He crept closer for a better view, but to reach the left passage, he’d have to step into the water.

Just as he searched for a quiet spot to avoid making noise, something caught his eye—reflections rippling across the surface. It was them—the creatures. And they were identical to the one he had killed earlier.

His mind raced, searching for a better way to handle their numbers—one step ahead, one thought after another. The moment an idea clicked, he stepped back and conjured a hand grenade.

Without wasting a second, he hurled it in their direction. A massive explosion followed—and then came the sound of footsteps rushing toward him.