The wasteland began to change.
The air grew thick with silver dust, and the ruins melted into skeletal forests made of glass. Every branch hummed like it remembered a song that no one dared to sing anymore.
Lira's boots crunched on the cracked ground. "This place isn't on any chart."
Troady felt the Aethern Fragment pulse again—once, twice—like a heartbeat that wasn't his.
"That's because it's not supposed to exist," he muttered. "Feels like walking through someone's memory."
By dusk, they reached a valley carved by invisible hands. In its center stood an obsidian monolith split by a single vertical scar of light. As Troady stepped closer, voices filled his head—soft, pleading, familiar.
"Troady… you failed us…"
"You could've saved me…"
"Why did you run?"
He froze. They were voices from his old world—the ones he'd buried when everything burned.
Lira grabbed his arm. "Don't listen! It's a Soul-Echo Field—the Hollow reads guilt and shapes illusions to consume you!"
But the voices grew louder, sharper, until the illusion itself broke free of the mist. Figures from Troady's past materialized, their eyes hollow yet accusing.
"Stop pretending to be a savior!" one screamed, lunging at him.
Instinct took over. Troady's aura flared, fragments of golden fire spiraling around his body. The Aethern Fragment shone so bright it cracked the glass trees nearby.
But this time… it didn't stop.
The power surged uncontrolled, twisting into tendrils that lashed out at everything—including Lira.
"Troady!" she yelled, blocking a strike with her staff. "It's feeding on your guilt! Focus!"
He fell to his knees, gripping his chest. The Fragment's voice spoke through him—an echo of something ancient and broken.
> "You carry sin unworthy of redemption. Let me cleanse you of it…"
Lira slammed her hand against the ground, casting a Resonance Seal that trapped both Troady and the illusions inside a circle of light.
"You're not his judge!" she shouted at the Fragment. "You're his burden!"
The illusions screamed and shattered into black sand. Troady gasped, the glow fading from his chest, his eyes returning to normal.
When silence fell, only the wind remained. The monolith cracked fully open, revealing an inscription:
> "Those who face themselves may pass. Those who flee shall remain hollow."
Lira looked at him, breathing hard. "That was the first real test. The gods are watching, Troady. They're measuring you—not for strength, but for purity."
He managed a weak smirk. "Yeah… purity's never been my thing."
She smiled faintly. "Then let's make it your rebellion."
As they left the Hollow, the monolith's scar sealed shut, whispering faintly in a tongue older than life.
To be Continued