After Kael's shadow vanished, swallowed by the dark crimson vortex, silence once again settled over the Sanctum.
But in the next instant—Kael clutched his chest tightly. His breath caught halfway, his face stiffening, his brows drawing into a deep frown.
An unfamiliar pain crept from within his body. It wasn't like a stab wound or a blow. It was something deeper… something that pierced straight through the layers of his soul.
"This feeling…?" he murmured faintly, his lips trembling. His eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe the sensation was real. "Don't tell me—"
A foreign ache surged up from the depths of his heart. It wasn't merely a memory. It was an inner recollection—a sin that had never been judged. A fragment of history that should have remained tightly sealed, now forced open.
The sensation was suffocating, making his body shudder, forcing a silent groan from him—no voice able to escape.
And not long after...
KREECHHKKK!!!
The walls of the Sanctum cracked. No longer sacred. Now, it became a chamber of confession…
The first sounded like metal being torn apart by force. The Sanctum walls, once reflecting both day and night, now fractured like the shell of time itself. Algorithmic symbols across their surface began to glow in blood-red patterns.
KRRECCCHKKK!!!
"Huh?" Kael snapped his head up, scanning his surroundings.
He remained standing at the center of the arena, brows still tightly knit. The temperature dropped sharply. The air grew unbearably heavy—as if every breath had to pass through the ashes of history… as though each inhale was filled with the dust of memories that refused to be remembered.
And then—the voice sounded again.
Inscriptor.
"Kael Vieron. Your journey is not yet over."
But now, the figure of light was fractured. Her dress was no longer a divine robe, but something like a scratched crystal mosaic, flickering between celestial blue and wounded violet.
Inscriptor walked toward Kael. Yet her steps were no longer those of an angel.
Instead… they were the footsteps of a memory struggling not to be forgotten.
Kael stared at her, confusion mixed with suspicion on his face. His lips trembled slightly, yet his voice remained steady.
"What's happening to you…? Why do you look… different?"
Inscriptor met his gaze with dimmed eyes, her lips curving faintly—somewhere between sorrow and resignation.
"This is the form of sin born from the ashes of your history. Something you find difficult to forget," Inscriptor replied, her voice quivering softly, as though wounded within its own words. "And perhaps… it will restore part of your memories."
She stopped, standing directly before Kael, then lifted her face just slightly.
"Kael Vieron… welcome to the Second Act."
The words were calm, yet sorrow was woven into them. Not pity for him—but grief for what Kael was about to face.
Kael studied her intently. His eyes narrowed, brows tense, his body leaning forward just a little. It was still hard for him to believe that he had truly made it through the debate that had just ended.
"The second act…?" he asked, his low voice filled with confusion.
Inscriptor nodded slowly. "Yes. The second act is… the Trial of Sin."
Kael's eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed in suspicion. He squared his shoulders and fixed a sharp gaze on Inscriptor.
"Don't tell me… you're the one who orchestrated all of this too?"
A thin, bitter smile appeared on Inscriptor's face. She lowered her head slightly, then answered in a calm yet cold tone.
"I am only a witness."
"In the Trial of Meaning, you were tested for what you believe."
"But in the Trial of Sin…" her gaze sharpened, her pupils flickering violet, "you will be tested… for what you have done."
The words struck Kael like a crushing weight. Color drained from his face. His lips parted slightly, and a faint voice escaped him without his realizing it.
"…What I've done…?"
Then—
Without a single word, Inscriptor raised one finger into the air. Just a small motion—yet enough to fracture the cosmos. No incantation. No command. Only will… sharper than truth itself.
The entire Sanctum roared violently.
KRRAACHHKK!
KRRAACHHKK!
The Sanctum began to collapse, like fragile glass shattered by a reality intent on destroying it.
The floor split apart—destroyed.
Its fragments plunged downward, one after another, like shards of memory finally released into the void.
And Kael—was dragged along, falling into a nameless spiral of emptiness. His eyes flew wide open, brows raised high, his face showing shock laced with denial. Yet before his body vanished completely from the altar…
He reached out toward Inscriptor—a reflex born from a heart on the verge of breaking. Not because he feared the fall. But because, deep down… he wanted to be believed.
But Inscriptor merely stood there, watching him like a record that could not be erased. Not hatred. Not pity. Only the bitter awareness that truth cannot be taken back.
He might have wanted to scream, but no sound echoed—swallowed by the darkness of memories that refused to be opened.
His consciousness faded in an instant. And yet, within that darkness—a sound emerged…
Laughter.
The laughter of two young girls. Bright and clear, like an untainted spring.
Ahahahaha…!
Come chase us if you can!
Hahaha, you're so slow—like a snail!
You idiot… use all your strength, Kael.
Ahahahaha… bye-byeee!
Then, silence…
Kael woke up. His eyes flew open at once, as if struck by a flashback more real than a dream. His breathing was ragged. Not from fear—but because it felt familiar.
The sky greeted him.
A pale blue expanse, veiled in drifting purple and pink mist that shimmered like refracted light from another dimension. Between the folds of that haze, stars floated in stillness—like the eyes of the past that had yet to close.
But that wasn't what made his eyes widen.
Up there… two massive silhouettes hung far along the horizon. Two curving worlds—like two Earths, two realities, or two destinies—nearly touching at the edge of the sky. One radiant, like a childhood untouched by stain. The other dark, like a fate yet to be redeemed.
And Kael realized… he had fallen, sprawled—into a place that did not merely contain memories, but a convergence of past and future still undecided.
Kael slowly pushed himself up. His body was still cold, but his thoughts began to clear. What lay before him was no longer emptiness.
It was a vast sea of black water, gleaming faintly—silent, deep, and endless.
And around him—doors stood.
Countless doors. Uneven. Misaligned. As if they had grown from wounds, not built by hands.
Each door was framed by creeping wild vines, with teakwood panels and dark-brown wooden handles that seemed almost alive. Beneath them, small garden platforms formed their footing, and spider lilies bloomed all around—like flames of memory that refused to die.
These were the doors of every cry from his past that had never been acknowledged.
< Limbus Reveria >
The Threshold Between Wound and Judgment. A dimension between reality and memory. Here, sin is not merely remembered… it is brought forth.
Kael stood fully now, one hand clutching his head.
"What's happening to me…?"
The Sanctum… no longer felt neutral. The space pressed down on him like an underground chamber steeped in rotting history. Not because the walls had changed—but because something inside Kael… had begun to scream.
All around him were only closed doors. Not a single one stood open. Not one spoke.
Kael stood at the center of it all—surrounded by those doors, like a defendant before an altar of atonement.
There was no path of escape. No time for regret.
Now, the enemy he had to face was no longer a shadow… but his own past.
The doors seemed to throb, alive from within. Like wounds that had yet to heal—or refused to be forgotten.
Then, not long after, Inscriptor appeared once more.
But not in her luminous form.
Only her voice came—echoing like a reverberation from a fractured age, as if she were witnessing the collapse of this world from beyond a future dimension slowly coming apart.
"Kael Vieron."
Kael lifted his gaze toward the sky. His face was steady, yet his eyes held deep shadows. That was where he heard her voice.
"You have passed the Trial of Meaning… by your own will."
"But meaning is a seed, not the final result."
The voice drew closer, sinking deeper.
"Now… you will descend into the deepest part of yourself."
"This trial is not meant to make you victorious. It exists to see… whether you are worthy of forgiveness, or destined to be punished by your own past. Your body may have prevailed. But your soul has yet to stand."
"Your presence here has summoned three sins from within you. Not because you cannot forget them…"
"They wish to be remembered, judged, acknowledged—before your new future may begin. These three wounds… are three reasons you could fail. Three records of the past that will reshape who you are."
Kael clenched his fingers. Cold sweat began to form—not from the temperature, but from a guilt that could not be healed.
"If you cannot accept them, then—this world's future… will be destroyed by its own will."
"So… all these doors…" he murmured. "They're not just illusions?"
"And I have to go through them one by one?"
"No. You must find the first wound among them. Not by remembering… but by believing that it is a reality you must accept."
"Because this space—was built from your own denial. Every door you find… is a fragment of yourself that you rejected. And one by one—you must enter them. Not to defeat… but to face them."
Kael fell silent.
His eyes swept across the doors, now glowing in identical hues—not a single one distinct, as if deliberately obscured by his own memories.
His mind wavered. But beneath it all… his heart answered: 'I can.'
"If you fail three times."
"Then your shadow… will rise again. And this time… it will not come to speak."
Suddenly, a purple light appeared and merged into his right hand. His Abyssal Seal ignited in golden radiance—the same symbol as before, yet now it felt heavier… deeper.
"Your Abyssal Seal has absorbed enough meaning."
"But sin is a root that cannot be severed by resolve alone."
Kael lowered his gaze, staring at the symbol on the back of his right hand. He felt hopeless… yet he understood what it meant.
"So that's how it is… this is the Abyssal Seal…"
The Abyssal Seal was not a blood-bound relic, but a cosmic biological inheritance from the First Law of the Imperatrix—a seal born when will and the deepest wound find resonance. It begins as a sleeping wound (Dormant), ignites when resolve grinds against sin (Reactive), and at its peak fuses into a personal law that opens the Vault, links to the Fragments, and challenges local reality itself (Resonant). That is why its form may appear similar, yet its 'weight' differs for every soul: it is not a gift bestowed, but proof that one can bear the meaning they themselves have summoned.
"Your shadow did not create these sins. It merely… opened their gate."
Feeling unsettled, Kael repeated the last words under his breath.
"Opened… their gate…?"
But Inscriptor did not answer.
"Remember this. Why you came into this world. If you wish to die, then walk into hell. But if you wish to see what happiness truly is—a new world—then walk toward the light that will let you shine like a star."
Among the hundreds of nearly identical doors, one began to separate itself. It was no larger. No brighter. Yet the aura leaking through its narrow gap… was different.
A rusted iron door.
And it was not merely a door. It was a memory—one that did not wish to be pulled forth, yet could not be avoided.
"Now, I leave all choices to you. This game is not meant for you to conquer, but for you to accept."
Before disappearing completely, Inscriptor cast her farewell in the form of final words.
"Until we meet again in the Third Act: the Trial of Honor."
Between those words, laughter echoed.
Not crying—but laughter, carrying the hue of twilight from within his memories, more vivid than any dream he had felt before.
Ahhahaha…
Ahahahahaha…
Ahhahaha…
Small footsteps accompanied the laughter, reverberating between the gaps of the doors. Kael stood frozen in silence, searching for its source—yet finding none.
The laughter did not stop—it circled him. As if inviting him inside. Into a wound that had once been mistaken for a sweet memory.
And at that very moment—one by one, the doors began to open.
Slowly. Not fully. As though still resisting the act of revealing their wounds in entirety.
All of them emitted the same light—cold, silent, brimming with secrets.
All except one.
One door burned—flames licking from its rusted iron frame. Wrapped in anger… blazing fiercely amid the cold stillness of the others.
Kael tried to step forward. But stopped.
His body trembled—as if he was not yet ready to accept what he had once rejected.
His brows drew low, uncertainty holding him in place. He said nothing.
But not long after...
Kael moved his feet.
One step...
KCLAKK…
Then two...
KCLAKK…
And then he walked, searching for it.
KCLAKK… KCLAKK… KCLAKK!
The sound of his shoes rang across the pooled water, sending ripples where none should exist—in a world that was meant to remain silent.
In his unsteady walk, he looked around—piercing through the labyrinth of doors that encircled him like memories that refused to fade. Searching, chasing a voice he could not yet trust as real, yet felt… far too familiar to ignore.
Then the sound came again. A small laugh. Followed by conversation.
Two voices… belonging to two young girls.
Hey, hey… Lira.
Kael stopped.
His brows lifted at once the moment he heard the name Lira.
That single name struck deeper than any wound before. He repeated it in his mind, almost like a whisper.
Lira…?
The voices kept circling, shifting from one door to another, like echoes chasing one another.
"Yeah, yeah, what is it?"
Do you know why Kael likes sandwiches?
Kael moved.
His gaze snapped toward three o'clock. But the door there remained empty—nothing at all.
Sandwiches? Aren't those your favorite too?
Yeah, I want to know. Is it really true?
Kael turned again, toward six o'clock. Still silent, still hollow—only the reflection of his own shape staring back at him from the rippling water below.
Yeah, Kael really loves them. Even when I came over to his house, his mom would always make sandwiches whenever I was about to go home.
Waaah… so it's true then? Lira, let's make sandwiches for Kael!
Make them? Can you even do that?
Kael stepped toward nine o'clock.
As they spoke, not a single word left his lips. Kael looked like someone who had lost his way. Yet this time, he caught a glimmer of light slipping through the rusted door. But before he could focus on it—the voices returned, clearer than before.
I can! If we ask for the recipe. Ehehehe…
Ahahaha… you might be silly. But your idea's not bad.
Let's go ask his mom for the recipe while Kael's busy.
Let's go!"
And in the next instant—two small shadows leapt from one door to another. Their movements were like shards of light… dancing between fragments of time.
Kael narrowed his eyes. His breath caught. And finally....
"There…" he whispered.
Just as the voices faded, he saw them—their figures. Not fully clear, yet enough to rouse his heart.
He began to run. But with every step, his body seemed to resist. Doubt held him back—not from fear, but from hoping too much.
"Is this… really them? But the other voice… I feel like I don't remember it at all…" he murmured softly.
Then Kael fell silent, staring at a single point he could not yet recognize.
***