Perfect Cut

Sultan plinked, trying to take hold of the distorted images in front of him.

Nevertheless, the action proved to be counter-productive. His vision grew hazier and blurrier, his ears filled of buzzing and his feet wobbled, forgetting how to function.

He remained in this condition for A few heartbeats until eventually, his body remembered how to operate appropriately.

 And as clarity blissed Sultan once more, he opened his eyes to find the imagery before him changed yet again. He stood in a peculiar place. On either side of him, there was light, not the blindingly bright radiance, nor the gentle, and comforting hue.

Instead, sultan perceived abnormal beads of light, which churned and swirled irregularly without an apparent pattern. Sometimes they appeared to him as tiny little specks, countless and infinite. Other times they morphed into enormous stars, so vast that a single one filled the entirety of his view, stretching endlessly like eternity.

"Have… I just been among these dots?' sultan shuddered, remembering the mental abuse he recently endured.

he extended his hand, attempting to touch, feel, or examine these strange lights, which wasn't the wisest idea if he took the time to consider it. nevertheless, His efforts proved futile. no matter how close his hand seemed to be, his reach always fell short of grabbing anything.

It was disorienting, as though distance itself was an illusion. What first seemed within reach turned out to be as unattainable as a distant mountain, deceptively near but separated by endless miles.

So as his hands have proven to be ineffective, Sultan tried walking.

He was in a line-like area. The place appeared as though someone had drawn a severing edge in the middle of the ocean of the crazy dots, and no matter how sultan moved, his location remained constant. Frantic , crazy dots on his sides, and a line of emptiness before and behind him.

 After a few more fruitless attempts, It became clear. Sultan was a visitor here, allowed to observe but forbidden to touch. Perhaps the lights were being protected from him, or he from them.

"Good. I don't want anything to do with you either," sultan announced in a raspy voice .

"but could you tell me what the heck I am doing here?" he followed up, the words coming sharp like a razor.

Currently, a war of emotions was brewing inside Sultan. and , as of now, frustration and anger were gradually coming victorious, suppressing fear and confusion.

of course, the dots were unperturbed with his proclamation.

"or could you at least send me back?... Please?". Nothing. The lights continued spinning and shifting, as uncaring for his plea as a raging sea is for the prayers of the helpless sailors.

"of course they won't reply, you idiot." Sultan felt ashamed for talking to nothingness and expecting a rep-

[The choice of life is granted to all.]

-ly. The thought halted in Sultan's head as The peculiar, otherworldly place spoke to him.

"who's there?" with hopeful eyes and ears twitching in protest , Sultan pivoted in a circle, aiming to locate the speaker .

The voice was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It didn't come from a specific direction, nor was it simply inside his head. The words surrounded him, emerging from every corner, as though he stood within the very wave of sound that carried them..

-[yet not all choices are equal in greatness.]

"and I choose to go home." Sultan chirmed in.

Still no reaction.

"your… holiness." He added, just in case.

Who knows? He could be talking to a god for all intense and purposes. Being polite wouldn't harm, while not could surely end badly for him.

[and this is the trial of destiny , In which the greatest of choices are made.]

the words kept coming, the speaker not deeming to even acknowledge sultan's opinion.

"Sigh. So I am dead after all, and now I am in the afterlife, being judged by a detached deity on my past choices."

Sultan deflated, his shoulders slumping , regret and sorrow felling him. There are plenty he craved to do, needed to do. If he is utterly dead, he didn't see it coming and he wouldn't say that he died knowing that he had fulfilled his purpose in life.

As it turns out, he ran in the end.

On the plus side, , there is truly an afterlife and he wouldn't disappear to nothingness..

[Evaluation commencing:] the judging voice proclaimed, oblivious and or uncaring for sultan's discord.

[[Challenge title: the trial of destiny.]

[Challenge grade: unknown.]

-"what?" Sultan muttered.

[challenge summary: unknown.]

well, now sultan started to get worried. This isn't how it supposed to be.

Shouldn't there be some kind of angel or god to determine whether he would go to heaven or hell based on his deeds in life??

So what's all this talk about challenges and not what.

The voice fell silent for a moment too long, and then announced, seaming…hesitant.

[Evaluating performance]

[Performance: undetermined.]

[Evaluation complete]

Sultan listened. His expression was of a local encountering an exceptionally enthusiastic foreigner insistomg on shareing his passion, and the language barrier be damned in the process. So as any good citizen wanting to encourage tourism, sultan stood perfectly still, folding his arms. and even he nodded his head every now and then.

[Bestowing Rewards.]

The voice returned after a brief pause, sounding more like the divine entity sultan assumed it to be.

[Congratulations. You have gained your trait number.]

[Trait number: the perfect nine.]

[Number type: (perfect number)]

[Number description:]

[the perfect numbers are few and far -between. They are proud numbers that refuse to be fully divided by any combination of divisors that won't add up to there value..]

[Number traits:]

[Positive trait: perfect cut.

[Trait description:]

[You wield the power of absolute separation.]

[Nothing is between the sides of your blade.]

[Negative trait: Shield of Belief.]

[Trait Description:]

[Only belief can shield the world from your wicked cut.]

[For you, it is the fire that burns yet formless for you to sever, the rust that dols your blade, And the weight you find hardest to bear.]

Sultan listened, utterly bewildered.

Reason have long since given him the middle finger. as though saying "you're on your own , buddy. This is way above my pay grade ."

So he just took it all in, focusing to his upmost ability to memorize all what is being said, no matter how Nonsensical it seemed at first.

He respectfully awaited the part he can ask his questions. 'There ought to be a q n a section in the end.' He only have to bide his time and the voice owner would Undoubtedly give him some instruction or request.

And gave him it did.

[Congratulations! challenger. You are qualified for awakening.]

[Prepare yourself.]

Well, Damm, was it all a dream. Or should he say a nightmare.

But wait, the voice who was treating Sultan like a girlfriend will treat her partner in a moody day, by insisting on ignoring all of his words, said that he should prepare for something.

So, knowing that it wouldn't work, he voiced his question anyway.

"how should I-"

But, as always , the most vital questions never see the light of day. Sultan didn't finished his stream of words because he prioritized getting on his knees and gasping for life.

At first glance, sultan's posture could imply that he is having a heart attack, kneeling with his hands clutching his chest. But the truth couldn't be any farther from that.

Sultan was drunk.

Like a desert never Known water and then the heaven opened the flood gates. 

It was as if, since the day he was born, he had been living with a deep, unquenchable hunger that was now finally being satiated.

The feeling was exulting, and Sultan wished it will never end.

But, of course, it did.

Not after too long, the waterfall pouring into his soul dwindled to few droplets until it eventually stopped completely.

[And thus, your soul shill be constant no more.] The voice proclaimed, but Sultan has no mind to pay it any attention yet the words reached him nonetheless.

So as he kneeled on nothingness, a frantic crazy dots on his sides, he haired the following.

[Soul trait: parting edge.]

[Your soul gazed at the void, and the void gazed back.]

[It demanded its rightful trophy, and you denied it.]

[Soul rank: eternal.]

[Soul number: **]

[Innate trait: living blade]

[your soul is cursed by being a living blade, and any blade in your hand is blissed by living.]