The Illusion Mountain rose like a jagged spear against the horizon, its peaks swallowed by a rolling sea of mist. The air was heavy even at its base, thick with a pressure that pressed against the skin like invisible hands. The disciples gathered at the foothills stood restless, their voices hushed despite the crowd. None dared speak too loud, as if the mountain itself might listen.
Elders watched from the pavilion above, their gazes sharp and solemn. The trial was never opened lightly, and now two figures stood before it. One was silent, robes plain, dark eyes unreadable, a beauty mark beneath the left eye catching the pale light. The other was golden-eyed, a grin curving his lips even now, though it carried an edge that belied his usual frivolity.
Joshua adjusted his grip on the wooden sword at his side, though he knew it would be useless against what awaited inside. The mountain would not test his strength. It would test his mind. His silence was complete, the kind that made even the disciples nearby uneasy.
Lucian broke that silence, tilting his head toward him. "You really do look like you're walking to your execution, Ghost. Would it kill you to at least look impressed? Mist, mountains, eerie atmosphere — this is prime storytelling scenery."
Joshua didn't glance at him. "…Noisy."
Lucian's grin widened. "Good. Means you're listening."
They stepped forward together. The mist shifted as if aware of them, tendrils curling low across the ground, brushing against their ankles like living things. Each step deeper felt heavier, as if the mountain wanted to keep them there, dragging at their bodies with invisible chains. The noise of the sect faded behind them. The disciples' whispers, the elders' commands, even the wind seemed to cut away until only the sound of their own breathing remained.
The stone path twisted unnaturally as they climbed. The air was colder now, sharp against the skin, carrying faint whispers that were not voices, not words, but suggestions. Regrets. Fears.
Joshua's gaze was flat, but his fingers curled once at his side. The ache in his chest pulsed harder here, as though the mountain itself pressed against it.
Lucian, walking half a step ahead, whistled softly. "Well, this is charming. Voices in the fog. Exactly the kind of place where idiots wander off and never come back." He glanced back, grin sharp. "You're not planning to wander, are you?"
Joshua's voice was low. "…Stay close."
Lucian froze for the barest second before laughing, bright and careless. "An invitation? Finally. Don't regret it when I stick to you like a shadow."
The mist thickened suddenly. The path beneath their feet vanished into shifting white. The mountain no longer looked like stone and rock, but endless corridors of cloud, swirling and shifting without direction.
Joshua halted. His senses sharpened. "…It's starting."
The world twisted.
The stone path cracked under his feet, shattering into fragments that fell into nothing. Darkness surged upward, swallowing the mist, and with it the faint warmth at his side. Lucian's presence vanished, as though he had been torn away.
Joshua's eyes snapped open, and he stood not on a mountain path but on a battlefield of broken earth. Blackened ground stretched endlessly, charred and cracked, still smoking with the remnants of flames. Chains of glowing symbols coiled through the air, a formation thrumming with power, trapping everything inside its circle.
And there — at the centre of the ruin — a figure knelt, robes torn, body bleeding, one hand pressed desperately against the crumbling sigils. His face was blurred, indistinct, but his voice cut through the smoke and ash, raw with desperation.
"Don't close your eyes!"
The words echoed, sharp and bright, burning into Joshua's chest like fire. His breath caught, the ache there twisting until it felt unbearable. His hand lifted faintly, as if to reach toward that voice, that blurred figure.
The vision shuddered. The world cracked again, and the battlefield dissolved into mist.
Joshua staggered back a step, breath sharp, eyes widening before the cold mask slid back into place. His hand lowered slowly, fingers curling into a fist.
"…Fragments." His voice was barely audible.
Somewhere in the distance, the mist shifted. A laugh, bright and teasing, echoed faintly through the fog.
Joshua's lashes lowered. For once, his gaze wasn't cold, but shadowed with something unspoken.
"…Who are you?"
The mountain did not answer, only more mist, more whispers.
But this time, the ache in his chest pulsed like a heartbeat, refusing to fade.