As I crossed the portal, everything around me disappeared in an instant. There was nothing to see. Nothing to smell. Nothing to touch.
I was floating in a sea of darkness.
I don't know how long I stayed in that state. But suddenly, walls began to form around me. Then I felt my feet touch something. Trying to orient myself and see what it was, I realized it. I was in a corridor.
The corridor stretched for kilometers with ease, with the portal to the next zone at the far end. The walls around me were made of gray stone with purple details. Looking closely, I realized those purple details weren't decorative. They were runes, written in some ancient language.
'Could this be the language used by those who created this place?'
The wall wasn't very far, so I tried to get closer to read them better. To my surprise, every time I took a step toward the wall, it felt like I took two steps back. I tried for what I considered a few minutes, but I couldn't advance at all. After every attempt, the wall was still there, and I hadn't moved any closer.
'What the hell?'
'Maybe those runes have something to do with this effect?'
Abandoning the plan of reading the runes, I focused back on observing the corridor. There were no threats at first glance, and I didn't detect any interference with my aether sense either. All that was left was to start walking forward with my guard up.
Looking back at the portal, at first I thought it might be a few kilometers away and that I would eventually reach it. But now, knowing that the wall seemed much closer and yet I still couldn't approach it, I didn't want to think about how far away the portal truly was. This was going to be a long journey…
I summoned Dawn's Ballad in my right hand and started walking down the corridor. I must have walked for almost half an hour without seeing any progress. The floor was the same, the walls were the same, and the portal remained at the same distance.
'I have an idea!'
To check whether I was actually making progress, I decided to use Dawn's Ballad to leave a mark on the floor and use it as a reference. I stopped and tried to draw a straight line on the ground with the sword. When the blade passed over the surface, no mark was left.
I tried again.
This time I gripped the sword more firmly and even reinforced my arms. Nothing happened.
When I was lowering the sword for a third and final attempt, I felt a change in the environment. It was as if a sudden wind had risen. My pale blond hair fell into my eyes, and through my aether sense I began to feel distortions in the surroundings.
It felt as though all the aether around me had entered a state of madness. On impulse, I activated [Realmheart], and what I saw made me deeply uneasy.
All the aether particles were spinning around me without any clear direction, obeying a will I couldn't perceive.
It was as if I were standing at the center of a phenomenon that had nothing to do with me, while everything around was being dragged along.
As time passed, the speed kept increasing, and I began to feel myself lifting off the ground. Panic started forming in my chest. I didn't understand what was happening.
I tried to think of what to do, to manipulate the aether and calm it down, but I couldn't. I never could. I tried absorbing it, but there was too much. My entire body began bleeding aether, and at some point I had to stop trying. I didn't keep it inside my body. When I expelled it, I tried to give it intent, to influence it in some way…
I expelled everything at once, with the intention of making it stop and support the rest. The expelled aether had once been mine and responded to my will. So I tried to guide the aether being expelled, forcing it to follow my will even though it no longer belonged to me.
The first thing I felt was my body weakening all at once. The change was so abrupt that my brain struggled to process it. First came discomfort in my muscles, followed by small spasms. Then came the sensation of my tissues being torn apart and reconstructed at the same time.
The mental impact was no less severe. I felt my entire mind trying to understand what was happening, searching for answers in the movements of the surrounding aether, desperately trying to find solutions. I even tried to activate [Former King] again, but the pain made it impossible. First came a ringing in my ears, a sharp sound that vibrated throughout my body. Then came discomfort in my eyes that forced me to close them and deactivate [Realmheart].
Throughout all this pain and suffering, I never stopped absorbing aether. I could feel it dripping from my pores, feel my aether channels throughout my body becoming saturated and beginning to expand. And whenever I expelled it, I did so all at once, still trying to influence the storm around me to make it stop.
I don't know how long I stayed like that. Minutes, hours, days. My mind was on the verge of breaking, my body was already broken, but my will never yielded. It felt as if the world itself wanted to erase my existence. I felt suspended between something corporeal and incorporeal.
After countless attempts, I perceived the aether around me suddenly come to a halt. My body began to feel real again. My mind started to reconstruct itself, slowly at first, gradually regaining clarity. Eventually, I could form coherent thoughts again, and that's when I realized it.
The storm was still there, but it was completely frozen.
I tried to activate [Realmheart], but it was a bad decision.
My mind had reorganized itself, but the exhaustion was still there, and attempting to activate the attribute was the last thing I perceived before losing consciousness…
***
I opened my eyes.
Or at least, that's what I tried to do.
There was no light. No darkness. Nothing that could be called vision. By reflex, I tried to blink, but I didn't feel any eyelids. The motion vanished into nothing before it could even complete.
Something was wrong.
I tried to move. I felt the intention clearly, automatic, like always… but there was no response. Not because I was paralyzed, but because there was nothing that could move.
I tried to touch my face. I felt no hands. No skin. No resistance.
The silence was absolute, but not like a place without sound. It was silence as a concept. There was no air to vibrate, no space to carry an echo. No cold, no heat. No discomfort, no relief.
Only absence.
By instinct, I expanded my aether sense.
There was an immense amount of it around me. So dense that, at any other time, it would have been impossible to ignore. And yet, it didn't respond. It didn't stir. It didn't acknowledge me.
It was like shouting in a place where sound doesn't exist.
That was when fear appeared.
It wasn't sudden. It wasn't explosive. It formed gradually, like pressure with nowhere to settle. I had no chest for it to tighten, no breathing to accelerate… and yet it was there.
A pure, shapeless fear.
I tried to reason. To force calm. To organize my thoughts the way I always did in combat. But logic collided with a reality too simple to deny.
I had no body.
I wasn't injured. I wasn't unconscious on the ground. I wasn't trapped.
I simply… didn't exist the way I always had.
In this space, I was neither flesh nor aether.
Only consciousness.
That realization should have calmed me. Instead, it made the fear denser. More real.
That was when something changed.
Not in front of me — because there was no "front" — but within my perception. As if the void itself began to organize.
One form appeared, and then another.
They weren't objects. They didn't occupy space. They didn't emit light. And yet, I knew exactly where they were.
If I had to describe them, I'd say they resembled screens.
Two defined structures, suspended in nothingness.
Waiting for me.
At that moment, I heard a voice that seemed to come from inside me.
No. It was exactly my voice.
The spell wasn't speaking to me, nor any other entity. It was me.
"Power always demands a choice."
The two screens reacted to those words.
They didn't light up like an artifact would. There was no light or clear images. It was more as if the emptiness before me became… meaningful.
The first screen conveyed a heavy sensation. Finality. Absolute silence.
No fear. No pain. Just the complete cessation of all intent.
There were no images, but I understood the message instantly.
To give up.
To stop moving forward.
To accept that everything ended there.
The second screen was different.
It didn't promise peace.
It didn't offer relief.
It conveyed weight. Continuity. Responsibility.
Future pain. Difficult decisions. Bonds that could break.
And yet… movement.
To keep existing.
To keep choosing.
To keep carrying consequences.
I didn't need anyone to explain what each one represented.
I understood them because both possibilities had crossed my mind before.
I stared at them for what could have been seconds or an eternity. In that place, time had no shape, but pressure did, and I felt it clearly.
The two screens remained suspended before me, unmoving, not explicitly demanding anything, and yet impossible to ignore. I tried to understand what I was supposed to do. There were no instructions, no obvious gesture, no clear action that marked a choice. I thought it might be enough to lean toward one of them, to want it strongly enough, but nothing happened. It was as if this place didn't respond to simple impulses.
For a moment, I considered that the answer was obvious. To live. To keep going. To not disappear. But as soon as I formed that thought, I realized how empty it was. Wanting to live simply to continue existing meant nothing. It was a basic reflex, something even intelligent Nightmare Creatures possessed. That couldn't be what this place was looking for. If it were, the choice would have no meaning.
That was when I began to truly question what it meant to choose to live.
Not from fear. Not from habit. But from consequences. From what it meant for me to continue existing in that world.
My mind, free from physical distractions, began to walk paths I normally avoided. I thought of my father and my mother, of everything they had sacrificed, of how they always believed in me even when I doubted myself. I thought of my sister, her smile, her blind trust, and how cruel this world was to someone like her. I thought of Cassie, of the strange friendship we had built, of the times her presence had anchored me when everything else seemed to fall apart.
And then I understood.
Choosing to live wasn't about me.
It was about accepting that my existence carried weight in the lives of others. That as long as I kept moving forward, as long as I didn't give up, there were still things that could be protected, futures that could be changed, people who wouldn't have to face the world alone. Living meant carrying that responsibility, accepting that my decisions would bring pain and consequences, but also the possibility that something good might exist because of them.
I didn't need to touch the screen.
I didn't need to say anything.
When that thought settled into my consciousness, the second screen reacted. Not with light or movement, but with absolute certainty. Its presence stopped feeling distant and became part of me, as if it had always been there, waiting for me to understand what choosing it truly meant.
The first screen, meanwhile, vanished without resistance, as if it had never been a real option.
In that moment, I knew I had chosen to live. Not for myself, but for all those I wasn't ready to abandon yet.
My consciousness felt drawn toward the second screen, as if it passed through it and continued along the path my choice had created.
The scenario advanced.
The absence twisted in on itself once more, and without a clear transition, the nothingness began to take shape. It wasn't immediate or clean. First came the sensation of weight, then the notion of space, and finally the certainty that I was no longer alone. I still didn't have a body, but I could perceive presences around me. Many of them. Too many. All moving in the same direction, all carrying the same exhaustion.
The world forming before me wasn't dying in a spectacular way. There were no cataclysms or burning skies. It was worse. It was wearing down. The structures were still standing, but cracked. People kept walking, but with contained urgency, as if they knew time wasn't on their side. This wasn't a world that could be saved by the will of one person alone.
And I understood it without anyone having to tell me.
This world needed people. It needed cooperation.
And it needed sacrifices.
The voice manifested again, in the same neutral manner, without judgment or emotion, as if it were simply stating an unavoidable fact.
"Power defines the method."
The scene shifted subtly. The presences around me stopped being indistinct and began separating into possibilities. I could feel two paths forming at the same time, overlapping, both valid, both functional.
In one, survival was direct. Efficient. Brutal. Every resource taken from others was another step away from death. Every obstacle removed ensured that I would keep moving forward. There was no deception in that path. It worked. It always did. Crushing others was a simple way to reduce risks.
The other path was slower. Unstable. Shared. It didn't guarantee immediate results and multiplied variables. Surviving alongside others meant taking responsibility for their mistakes, carrying weaknesses that weren't mine, and accepting that at some point, someone would fail. It wasn't a clean path.
I didn't hesitate for long.
Not because it was nobler, nor because I thought myself better than anyone else.
I chose the second path because I knew the cost of the first.
Loneliness always charges interest.
I've seen what it does to the mind, how it erodes judgment and turns every decision into an act of desperation. Surviving by crushing others works… until there's no one left. And when that happens, the world doesn't become safer, only emptier.
Sharing risks wasn't altruism.
It was investment.
As I advanced along that path, I felt the scenario stabilize, as if the world accepted the choice and adjusted its weight accordingly. It wasn't easier, but it was real. There was conflict, there was tension, but there was also something the other path didn't offer.
Continuity.
The voice didn't congratulate me.
It spoke only once more, confirming that the method had been chosen.
"The path defines what you are willing to lose."
And the scenario shifted again.
The change was immediate, but not violent. The world around me didn't collapse like in previous scenarios; it simply lost stability. The presences disappeared, the environment lost any clear direction, and the sensation of progress became diffuse. I wasn't in danger, but I wasn't moving forward either. It was as if the scenario itself were waiting for something more specific from me.
The voice manifested again.
With uncomfortable simplicity.
"What kind of person are you?"
The question came without images at first. It simply hung there, suspended in my consciousness, forcing me to face it without distractions. Then, slowly, the possibilities began to take shape. They weren't physical paths or complete scenes, but defined concepts, solid and impossible to ignore.
The first was clear.
To be a hero.
To save others even when the personal cost was absolute. To become a symbol, someone others could look up to and place their expectations upon. It was a familiar path. Inspiring. And deeply limiting. A hero couldn't fail. Couldn't doubt. Couldn't afford to be human.
The second wasn't better.
To do what is right regardless of morality.
Cold, surgical logic. Decisions made by outcomes, not values. Sacrificing what's necessary today to secure a more stable tomorrow. It was efficient. It worked. But it demanded something I wasn't willing to give: the ability to justify anything if the result warranted it.
The third was the most honest.
To protect only my own, at any cost.
To close off the world and reduce it to a small circle. To prioritize without shame, even if that meant condemning others. There was no hypocrisy in that path. Only the brutal acceptance that not everyone mattered equally.
And yet…
None of them were me.
I didn't hesitate because I didn't understand the options. I hesitated because they all tried to turn me into an idea. Into a fixed concept. Into something predictable. Each one demanded that I abandon an essential part of myself to fit into a clear definition.
The silence stretched.
The scenario began to degrade. Forms blurred, coherence fractured, as if the world itself were losing patience. I felt pressure. Not pain, but urgency. The trial was waiting for an answer.
And that was when I understood.
I didn't have to choose between those options because none of them were meant to be chosen.
I didn't want to be a hero.
I didn't want to be a judge without morality.
I didn't want to be someone willing to sacrifice others without looking back.
I didn't want to be an idea.
I wanted to be myself.
The realization wasn't explosive. It was calm. Clear. Inevitable.
"I don't want to be an idea."
The words didn't echo through the space, but something responded.
"I want to be myself."
In that instant, something changed.
A new presence appeared where there had been nothing before. It wasn't announced. It wasn't presented as another option. It simply… was there. As if it had always existed, waiting for me to reject the others.
A fourth possibility.
Not visible before.
"To remain myself, even when that doesn't fit."
It wasn't a clean path.
It didn't promise coherence.
It didn't guarantee that I would always make the right decision.
But it was real.
The moment I accepted it, the scenario didn't dissolve.
It shattered.
Conceptual structures collapsed in on themselves, definitions fragmented, and space itself failed to hold. There was no resistance. No correction. As if the trial had reached exactly the point it had been waiting to reach.
And then, everything changed again.
There was no transition or warning. One moment I was in nothingness, and the next, air forced itself violently into my lungs, burning as it went down. The impact was so abrupt that my mind took a moment to catch up with my body. Pain. Fatigue. Weight. I had a body again, and it was in a deplorable state. Every breath was a conscious effort, every step a negotiation with muscles that no longer wanted to respond.
I was running.
I didn't know since when, only that I couldn't stop.
My feet struck uneven ground as I ran through what looked like a ruined village. Wooden and stone houses lined both sides, many partially collapsed, others abandoned for so long that nature had begun reclaiming them. There were no signs of life. None. And yet, I wasn't alone.
Behind me, something moved with terrifying consistency. I didn't need to turn around to know it was chasing me. Its presence was heavy, oppressive, as if the air itself grew denser with every passing second. I had no memories of this place, no understanding of how I'd arrived there, but I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
If it caught me, I would die.
I had no powers.
I couldn't feel aether.
I had nothing to rely on except my exhausted body and the will to keep moving.
I turned into a narrow alley, nearly stumbling as I did, and that's when I saw it.
A corridor.
Not one meant for people. It was narrow, enclosed, almost claustrophobic, but at the far end there was something different. A door. I didn't need to touch it or get closer to understand what it meant. That door was the exit. It was survival. It was the end of the chase.
If I reached it, I would live.
My legs reacted before my mind, accelerating despite the burning in my chest and the feeling that my lungs were about to collapse. But then I saw it.
On the ground, to the side of the corridor, there was an egg.
I stopped.
Not out of curiosity.
Not out of surprise.
I stopped because something inside me refused to keep moving.
It wasn't an ordinary egg. I couldn't explain it with words, but the moment I saw it, I understood something that didn't require reasoning. That egg wasn't an object. It was someone. Life. Fragile. Defenseless. Completely dependent on a decision that didn't belong to it.
As I looked at it, I felt the presence behind me drawing closer. It wasn't far anymore. I could hear the scrape of something heavy against the ground, the sound of a breath that wasn't human. Time compressed. There was no room to hesitate.
No voice appeared.
No options floated before me.
But I understood everything.
If I kept running and left the egg behind, I would survive. Alone.
If I took it with me, I had no guarantee of reaching the door. But at least that being wouldn't die abandoned in that corridor.
I didn't hesitate.
I crouched down, ignoring the pain shooting through my legs, and took the egg into my arms. It was heavier than it looked, and at the same time incredibly fragile. I felt something inside me lock into place around that decision, as if there was no turning back.
I ran.
Each step was slower than the last. The corridor seemed to stretch, as if resisting my progress. The sound behind me was deafening now, far too close, and I knew I wouldn't make it in time.
Still, I kept going.
When I reached the door, I felt the creature's breath almost at the back of my neck. I didn't have time to turn. I pressed one hand against the cold surface and pushed with everything I had left, clutching the egg to my chest as if it were the only real thing in that world.
The instant my fingers touched the door, everything stopped.
The scene collapsed.
Sound vanished, the weight of my body dissolved, and the sensation of falling wrapped around me once more. Before darkness claimed me completely, the voice spoke again…
With a tone utterly devoid of judgment or emotion.
Simply… with certainty.
"You have chosen to live."
"You have chosen to coexist."
"You have chosen to be."
There was a brief pause.
"And yet, you accepted the burden of another."
"The trial has been passed."
***
My balance was completely lost, and my entire world shattered once more, disintegrating until nothing remained but absolute darkness.
Consciousness returned to me all at once, and air rushed violently into my lungs. My eyes snapped open, and I was left dazed by the light. My body was so stiff that I had no choice but to remain in the position I was in.
I blinked several times to orient myself and realized I was staring up at the sky.
I slowly expanded my aether sense to avoid overwhelming my mind and realized I was lying on a stone platform. There was nothing else. Just the platform, me… and an egg?
'The egg of the choice!'
'Wait… the egg of the choice?'
I tried to sit up to get a better look, but all my muscles screamed in protest. I considered reinforcing them with aether, but something told me I would regret it if I did.
I had no choice but to remain lying there, staring at the sky, while I reflected on everything that had happened.
'First, the entire zone… that city had once been inhabited by humans, and its hierarchical system was based on blood. Or rather, on the purity of it, maybe? My theory is that the deeper I went into the city, the stronger the creatures became, which would mean their blood was purer. Though in the end, they all became victims of corruption…'
'Then the Relicombs. I have a feeling that the first corridor zone was an area where space itself was being altered. I don't know how long I walked there without making any progress, and when I tested my idea, the zone reacted negatively and generated something like an aether storm. At one point, I felt like the storm was trying to erase me. I suppose my Aspect saved me, since it specifically states that my presence cannot be overwritten by the world.'
'And the rest… I don't know. It was extremely confusing. In the first choice, I literally felt that if I chose the first screen, I would die. Then the way communication worked was very strange, as if choosing required me to gradually become part of the choice itself. Very confusing. And the last scene… I lived it. Flesh and blood. And the worst part is that if that creature had caught me, I'm sure it would have killed me.'
Now the question was… how was I supposed to move around with the egg? Was it a Memory? An Echo?
'I guess there's only one way to find out. I'll have to open my runes.'
The moment I thought of my runes, they appeared before me. And when I finally got a clear look at them, I couldn't understand what I was seeing.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"