Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women

Lyara tensed, reaching for her sword. "Jude," she said, her voice edged with unease.

Jude turned, and froze.

Across the battlefield, a figure emerged from the mist. Clad in dark armor, their presence exuded an overwhelming sense of dread. The figure's eyes glowed faintly, and in their hand, they held a massive blade that seemed to drink in the surrounding light.

Jude's breath caught in his throat. He had seen this figure before, in his visions, in the memories shown to him.

The one who had shattered the light.

The figure raised their weapon, pointing it directly at him.

Lyara shifted beside him, gripping her sword tightly. "Tell me this isn't real."

"I don't know," Jude admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The figure moved, too fast. In the blink of an eye, they closed the distance between them. Jude barely had time to throw himself to the side before the blade crashed down where he had been standing, sending a shockwave rippling through the battlefield.

Lyara reacted instantly, her sword flashing as she struck. But the figure moved with inhuman speed, parrying effortlessly before delivering a counterattack that sent Lyara skidding backward.

Jude scrambled to his feet, reaching into his satchel for anything that could help. His fingers closed around the artifact he had taken from the ruins days ago. As soon as he pulled it free, it pulsed with energy, reacting to the presence of the figure before him.

The dark warrior hesitated for a brief moment, their glowing eyes narrowing.

Jude didn't waste the opportunity. He focused, channeling the energy through him. The artifact in his hand flared with light, sending a burst of force outward. The warrior staggered slightly, but only for a moment.

Then, they lunged again.

Jude barely managed to dodge, feeling the air split as the blade passed inches from him. Lyara was already moving, striking from the side, but the warrior deflected her effortlessly, forcing her to retreat once more.

"This isn't working," she panted. "We're outmatched."

Jude gritted his teeth. They couldn't run. There was nowhere to go. And if this was a trial, then there had to be a way through it.

His gaze flickered back to the flame, the one in the chamber. If this was a vision, a test, then the answer had to lie within.

He tightened his grip on the artifact. "Cover me," he said.

Lyara gave him a sharp look but nodded. Without hesitation, she launched herself at the warrior again, keeping them occupied.

Jude closed his eyes, focusing inward. The artifact's energy pulsed against his palm, synchronizing with something deeper within him.

Then, he saw it.

Not with his eyes, but with something beyond sight. The battlefield was an illusion, a construct born from the flame's power. The warrior before him was not just an enemy, it was a manifestation of something greater.

The cycle.

Jude's eyes snapped open. He didn't need to defeat the warrior. He needed to break the pattern.

He took a deep breath and did the one thing he had never done before.

He stepped forward.

The warrior's blade swung toward him.

Jude didn't move.

The moment the blade should have struck, the battlefield shattered like glass. The darkness receded, the storm clouds vanished, and the ground beneath them dissolved into nothingness.

And suddenly, they were back in the chamber.

Jude's breath came in sharp, uneven gasps. His hands trembled.

The woman regarded him with an expression that was almost approving. "You understand now."

Jude swallowed, his throat dry. "The trial… it wasn't about winning."

She nodded. "The cycle is not broken by conflict. It is broken by choice."

Lyara exhaled heavily, wiping sweat from her brow. "Could've warned us first."

The woman merely smiled. "Warning dulls the lesson."

Jude turned his gaze back to the pedestal. The flame burned brighter now, as if acknowledging what had transpired.

The woman stepped forward. "You have passed the first test. But the path ahead is not yet clear."

Jude straightened. "Then what's next?"

The woman gestured toward the flame. "Now, you must carry it."

Jude's stomach tightened. He knew, instinctively, that this wasn't just about taking an object. This was something far greater.

Lyara touched his arm. "You don't have to do this alone."

He nodded, grateful for her presence. Then, taking a steadying breath, he reached out.

The moment his fingers brushed the flame, light engulfed him.

Jude's breath caught in his throat as the light enveloped him. For a moment, there was nothing, no sound, no form, no ground beneath his feet. It was like floating in an endless void, suspended between moments. Then, sensation returned in a rush. His body felt weightless and heavy at the same time, as if something was pulling him in every direction at once. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his vision blurred before suddenly snapping back into focus.

He was no longer in the chamber.

The ground beneath him was smooth, polished stone, reflecting a dim, golden glow that stretched into infinity. There were no walls, no sky, just an endless expanse of shimmering darkness. The only source of light came from the flame he still held in his hand, now no bigger than a candle's flicker. It pulsed, almost like a heartbeat.

Jude turned sharply, searching for Lyara, but she was nowhere in sight. Panic clawed at his chest. He had been holding onto reality, onto the presence of his companion, but now he was alone. His fingers tightened around the flame. Was this another test? If so, what was he supposed to do?

A voice echoed through the void. It was not spoken aloud, yet it resonated deep within his bones.

**Do you understand what you carry?**

Jude swallowed, his throat dry. "No," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The void around him pulsed, and for the briefest moment, he thought he saw shadows moving in the distance.

**Then you will learn.**

The flame in his hand flared suddenly, sending out a wave of warmth that spread through his body. He gasped as memories, some his own, some unfamiliar, flooded his mind. He saw glimpses of the past, moments of great victories and terrible losses, cycles of light and darkness that had played out over countless generations. He saw people who had carried this same flame before him, some who had wielded it as a beacon, others who had let it consume them.