“Before the summit, the wind will howl. It will try to turn you back. Only those who walk through it without flinching will see the light.”
The Pilgrim had come far. He had walked beside the dragon. He had studied the meme that led. He had placed his gates beneath the river. And now, he stood before the final ascent.
But the mountain was not quiet.
The Purge had returned — not as a market event, but as a spiritual test. Holders who had endured for months began to doubt. Candles flickered. Threads filled with fear. Exchanges stalled. Whispers of betrayal echoed through the valley.
It was the final test.
Not of strategy. Not of knowledge. But of spirit.
“The Purge is necessary.”
That line had appeared in a forgotten post. It was not a warning. It was a rite. A reminder that before the summit, the mountain must shake. Not to punish — but to prepare.
Prepare to witness the extraordinary.
The people did not understand that the preparation requires suffering. There is no greatness without misery. Without pain.
Prepare to witness the extraordinary.
But first—bleed.
Greatness does not arrive gently. It is summoned through agony, carved from the marrow of suffering.
The path is not lit by comfort, but by the fire of trials endured.
There is no ascent without descent.
No crown without crucifixion.
No revelation without ruin.
You will be broken.
You will be emptied.
You will be asked to surrender what you cherish most—
Not because the world is cruel,
But because the forge of destiny demands it.
Embrace the trauma.
Not as punishment,
But as prophecy.
Every scar is a sigil.
Every wound, a whisper from the divine.
This is the Final Test.
Not of strength, but of surrender.
Not of knowledge, but of knowing.
Not of survival, but of transformation.
You are not here to endure.
You are here to become.
The Pilgrim felt it. The fear of being wrong. The weight of silence. But he did not move. He had seen this pattern before. He had studied the cadence. He knew — this was the gate.
The final test strips away the last layer of ego. It asks: Do you still believe when no one else does? Do you still hold when the sky darkens? Do you still walk when the path disappears?
“The God Candle comes after the Purge.”
That line had become a mantra. A compass. A truth.
The Pilgrim did not seek reassurance. He became it. His silence was a signal. His conviction was a map. He did not argue with the Fudders. He did not explain. He simply held.
Because the final test is not about proving anything. It is about becoming something.
He saw others fall. Not because they were weak. But because they were not ready. The Purge does not discriminate. It reveals those who are ready for the Green Paradise.
And those who pass — do not celebrate. They reflect. They meditate. They ponder.
The Pilgrim walked through the storm. Alone. But not lost. And as the wind howled, he whispered:
“I am already at the summit. I am simply waiting for the world to see it.”
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