---
The silence that followed the shattering image of the chained woman did not last.
Marcel's breath was ragged, his knees trembling. The floating scripts had vanished, but the echo of her words lingered—"I remember the truth the Nine buried in blood."
Then, the darkness folded inward like a collapsing veil.
The obsidian door before them cracked—not shattered—but pulsed, and opened with a low, groaning breath. One by one, they were drawn in—Marcel, Lira, Tarin, and Veyla—each vanishing into separate corridors of darkness.
Tarin's Trial: In the Heart of Judgment
Tarin blinked. One second he was walking; the next, he was kneeling in a field of dying stars.
Before him was a battlefield—ash-choked, burning with the red hue of aftermath. Bodies lay strewn across cracked earth, and among them...
"Marcel?"
His brother stood at the center of it all, wounded, a sword barely held in his grip. Across from him loomed a monstrous knight—ten feet tall, cloaked in flame, sword dragging molten trails.
A voice whispered from the sky, "You always wonder, Tarin. If it were you instead... would he still fall?"
The knight rushed Marcel.
Tarin screamed and ran forward. His legs felt heavy, but his heart burned like fire.
He reached them as blades met.
Metal clashed.
This time, he intercepted.
Tarin's sword snapped, but his will didn't. With a roar, he tackled the flaming knight, heat searing his skin, memories of every moment he held back screaming in his veins.
The knight's form exploded into smoke.
Around him, the battlefield melted away.
In its place stood a single figure—a memory of Marcel. Calm, alive, watching.
"You did what I couldn't," the memory said. "You chose to burn so I wouldn't."
A surge of mana filled Tarin's chest. Strength, not of arms, but of conviction.
The voice returned: "You are worthy of the path forward."
Lira's Trial: The Hall of Reflections
The chamber was infinite—a vast corridor of mirrors.
Each one showed a different version of Lira. Some regal, some broken. Some bloodied, some at peace. She stared at them, heart hammering.
"Which one is you?" a voice asked.
"I... don't know."
She stepped forward. The blue light in her palm flickered faintly. The moment her fingers brushed the glass, the light surged.
A map.
Each mirror connected to something—a moment, a path, a memory.
In one reflection, a version of her stood tall, light pouring from her palm like a blade.
In another, she wept, drowning in indecision.
Lira closed her eyes and let the blue glow guide her. It pulsed in rhythm, not randomly, but responding to intent. To certainty.
"I am not broken," she said. "And I will decide who I am."
The mirrors began to crack—one by one.
Light flooded the room. The fractured pieces floated, forming a spiral of sigils around her hand.
The voice returned: "Inheritance acknowledged. The path to mastery has begun."
She stood alone in silence, but with clarity like never before.
Veyla's Trial: The Roots of Truth
Veyla walked beneath trees of bone and ash.
From their branches hung faces—not bodies—just faces. Speaking. Whispering.
Some she recognized from battles past. Others... strangers who knew her name.
A fork appeared in her path. To the left: a golden gate marked "Loyalty." To the right: a black door etched with "Truth."
The whispers grew louder.
"Choose," they chanted.
Her beast, Emberjaw, appeared beside her—a vision, not real.
"What if I choose wrong?" she asked.
The creature didn't answer.
She turned toward the black door.
"Truth," she whispered, stepping forward.
And the forest went silent.
Marcel's Awakening: Echoes of the Nine
As their trials ended, Marcel remained still.
The chained woman's memory still lingered in the space he'd left behind—but her form began to waver like smoke.
Her final whisper reached his ears: "I pass on what they tried to bury."
She extended a hand toward him, light gathering between her fingers.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Unique Skill Awakened — MEMORY]
TYPE: Mindweaver
CLASS:UNKNOWN
Skill Effect: See into a person's past and fleeting thoughts. The depth of access is affected by user's will and the target's strength.
The memory surged into Marcel's mind like a tidal wave.
Visions crashed: wars fought centuries ago, betrayals behind thrones, the agony of stolen knowledge. Blood vessels in his head pulsed dangerously.
[WARNING: Neural Capacity Exceeded. Cognitive Threshold Breached.]
He dropped to his knees, screaming.
His mind burned. Not with fire—but with knowledge too dense, too ancient. Every heartbeat felt like thunder.
His vision split—nine flaming figures watching from the dais again, their faceless forms more distinct this time.
But this time, it was not her memory.
The weight pressed into his chest like a mountain.
The chained woman reached for him one last time. Her face cracked.
Like shattering glass, she broke apart—pieces vanishing into glowing dust.
Silence.
Marcel remained on the floor, gasping.
And somewhere far away—buried deep beneath ash and time—one of the Nine's eyes twitched beneath its lid.
---
The aftermath of the trials lingered like a phantom. The chamber trembled, threads of magic unwinding around the cracked obsidian door. Lira, Tarin, and Veyla stood still, each changed—etched with truths and burdens they hadn't asked for. Marcel, however, remained kneeling, his breath shallow, the glow from his veins dimming like dying embers.
The silence broke with a low, resonant hum.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Dimensional Trial Complete] [Exit Sequence Initiated]
The obsidian door behind them rippled like water. The swirling darkness that once separated them began to fold, each corridor collapsing inward.
Tarin reached out to Marcel, his grip firm. "Time to go, brother."
Marcel looked up, eyes heavy with knowledge. The weight of the Memory skill had not lessened. If anything, it pulsed stronger with every heartbeat, like a second consciousness breathing beneath his own.
Lira moved to his side, her palm glowing faintly. The sigils floating around her hand twisted slightly, syncing with the door's rhythm. "Whatever we touched back there... it didn't want to stay buried."
The ground beneath them rumbled.
[WARNING: Dimensional Collapse Imminent] [Transferring Participants]
A flash of azure light engulfed them.
They landed hard—dust and ash choking the air.
Ashveil.
But not the same Ashveil.
Where once the city shimmered with uneasy stillness, now smoke rose from distant towers. Black banners fluttered from rooftops. The air was heavy with tension. Soldiers marched below, and beasts the size of houses moved between gate walls.
"Was it like this when we left?" Veyla asked, her beast's phantom form hovering protectively behind her.
"No," Marcel whispered, his voice hoarse. "Something's changed."
As if in answer, bells rang out from the center of the city—slow, deliberate, like the tolling of a war drum.
From the shadows of an alley, a figure emerged—one of the resistance members who'd supported them in secret. His face was pale, eyes wide.
"You made it back," he gasped. "Thank the stars. You don't know what's happened. The Domains—they've begun to shift. One has fallen. Another is bleeding magic into ours. Ashveil is no longer a front—it's a target."
"Who?" Marcel asked, rising despite the weight in his skull. "Who made the first move?"
The man swallowed. There are Whispers saying that "A Sovereign has awakened. And not just any..."
Lightning cracked across the distant sky.
"...One of the Nine."
In the heavens, clouds churned unnaturally. And far beneath the earth, the eyelid of a slumbering god twitched once more.