Spiritual Realm Salvation

Chapter 6: The ordeal of the spiritual mountain- The Courage

As dawn broke, the majestic outline of the sacred mountain emerged on the horizon, resembling a slumbering giant slowly awakening. The peaks were shrouded in thick mist, occasionally revealing a mysterious glow, as if calling to distant travelers. Michael rode on his steed—a golden unicorn named Astra—slowly approaching the foot of the Mountain of Courage.

Astra was no ordinary unicorn; it boasted a pair of magnificent golden wings that shimmered softly in the morning light. These wings granted it the ability to fly, allowing it to glide effortlessly among the clouds. Michael tenderly stroked Astra's mane, feeling the strong muscles of his mount ripple beneath him.

When they reached the foot of the Mountain of Courage, Michael took a deep breath, inhaling the faint fragrance of blooming flowers, knowing that his trial was about to begin. He scanned the surrounding environment, noticing how the lush forest at the foot of the mountain gradually transitioned into sparse shrubs, then bare rocks, finally disappearing into the mist.

"Astra, my friend," Michael said softly, "thank you for bringing me here. The journey ahead, I must complete alone." Astra let out a gentle whinny, seemingly expressing understanding. Michael elegantly leaped off the back of the unicorn, his feet landing firmly on the ground. He patted Astra's mane one last time and turned to face the steep mountain path.

Michael declared, "When I complete the trial, I will return to find you."

Astra nodded, stepping back slightly, spreading its magnificent wings. With a flash of golden light, the unicorn soared into the sky, quickly disappearing among the clouds.

Michael took a deep breath, straightened his back, and began his ascent up the mountain. Each step felt as though he was treading upon his own memories, the gravel beneath him reminding him of the smoke and blood from battles past.

"Are you ready, Michael?" a deep voice came from his armor. This silver armor had been his companion for many years, standing by him through countless battles.

Michael's fingers softly caressed the surface of the armor, feeling the power it contained. A faint smile crept onto his lips, revealing a hint of a bitter laugh, "I don't know, old friend. This challenge... seems unlike any before."

"Because this time, you must face yourself," the armor's voice was filled with concern. "I sense the turmoil within your heart."

Michael nodded, furrowing his brow, "Yes, I once thought I was fearless, but now... I am no longer certain." His gaze turned once more to the mountaintop, obscured by the mist.

At that moment, his sword at his waist suddenly hummed, as if responding to his words. Michael grasped the hilt with his right hand, a warm energy flowing through him, dispelling some of the chill.

"Don't forget, we are with you," the sword's voice was clear and melodic, "no matter what lies ahead, we will face it together."

Drawing a deep breath, Michael stood tall, a flicker of determination flashing in his eyes. His movements were resolute and powerful, yet his gaze occasionally betrayed a hint of confusion.

As he ascended, the scenery began to subtly change. The air grew thin, making breathing laborious. Michael felt an invisible weight pressing down on his chest, each step becoming increasingly difficult. His feet felt heavy, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"This feeling... it's just like that night," Michael murmured, his voice quivering slightly.

"What night?" the armor asked, concern lacing its tone.

Michael paused, instinctively clenching his hands, his eyes darkening, "The night we... lost that battle."

Suddenly, the landscape before him distorted; the mountain path vanished and was replaced by a blood-red battlefield. Smoke filled the air, flames shot high, and he could hear the cries of comrades and the clashing of weapons. The scent of blood and charred earth flooded his senses.