They passed through the black stone doorway in silence.
The moment they crossed the threshold, something changed. The air shifted—less dense, less humid. Still. Too still. The torches didn't flicker. Footsteps didn't echo. The mana in the air… wasn't moving.
It was waiting.
The hallway curved slowly, leading them into a vast circular room. A dome, carved smooth, with no ceiling they could see. Light—unnatural and pale—bled down from above, as if from behind a pane of glass.
In the center of the chamber sat a pedestal. Floating above it: a silver orb, slowly rotating, humming faintly.
No enemies. No threats.
But no one spoke.
Because they all felt it.
The weight. The pressure. Not on their bodies—but their minds.
Neive stepped forward first. Her summon slinked beside her, fur bristling.
When she reached the halfway point of the room, the orb pulsed once.
Then she froze.
"Neive?" Katie asked.
Neive's breath caught.
Her eyes widened.
And she fell to her knees.
They ran to her side, but Neive wasn't unconscious. Her eyes were open—glassy. Locked in something unseen.
Katie touched her shoulder. "What's happening?"
"She's inside," Conner said. He could see it. The orb was projecting mana outward—but not as force. As memory. As fear.
"It's mental," he added. "Illusion-based. Reactive."
Luc swallowed hard. "You mean it's reading us?"
"Not just reading," Joey said, staring at the orb. "It's showing us."
They brought Neive back slowly, pulled her from the range of the pedestal. Her breathing calmed. Her eyes blinked clear. She didn't speak for a long moment.
Then, voice hoarse, she whispered, "I watched her die again."
"Your summon?" Mira asked gently.
Neive shook her head. "My sister."
The group fell quiet.
She didn't explain. She didn't need to.
One by one, the group stepped forward.
Each took a turn.
And one by one, they broke—and rebuilt.
Katie emerged in tears, but smiling.
Taz came back shaking, muttering numbers.
Joey didn't speak when he returned—he just sat against the wall and stared at his hands, metal dripping down his forearms like sweat.
When it was Conner's turn, he didn't hesitate.
He walked to the center. Stood before the orb.
And let it in.
It began with silence.
Then sound—his heartbeat.
Then sight.
He was standing in a forest.
Sunlight filtered through the trees. Birds sang. Grass brushed against his knees.
He looked down—and saw the bow in his hand.
Familiar.
Old.
And then—a voice.
"Hold your breath longer next time."
Conner turned.
His father stood beside him, tall, solid, steady. Holding a bow of his own. Brown eyes hard, but proud. "You rushed your last shot."
Conner swallowed. "I hit the mark."
"Barely. You don't aim to hit. You aim to kill."
They walked in silence, the memory unfolding like a loop Conner hadn't played in years.
Then it shifted.
His father stopped walking.
"Why didn't you save them?" he asked.
"What?"
"You were there. You had the shot."
The trees grew darker.
The light dimmed.
Blood appeared on the ground. On the leaves. On the bow.
"I—I didn't know—"
"You hesitated."
"I didn't—"
"You always hesitate."
His father stepped forward. "You're not built for this. You pretend to be."
Conner's hands trembled.
He closed his eyes.
Breathed in.
[Reactive Guard – Passive Scan Triggered]Emotional pressure spike detected. Instinctive shift engaged.You are not alone in this fight.
Conner opened his eyes.
And he fired an arrow straight through the illusion.
The forest cracked.
The voice faded.
And he was back.
Standing in the chamber. Bow in hand. Sweat on his face.
But calm.
The group watched him return.
No one said a word.
But they saw it.
Not relief.
Focus.
Conner looked to the orb. "That was just a warning."
Then he turned to the next hallway, where the walls began to pulse with light.
"Get ready."
Luc stepped into the circle next.
He didn't speak as he approached the orb. He didn't tremble. But Conner saw it in the way he held his arms—tight against his ribs, like he was bracing for a wave that had already hit.
The light around the orb pulsed.
Luc froze.
Then slowly dropped to his knees, face buried in his hands.
No screams.
No resistance.
Just... stillness.
When he returned minutes later, his face was pale. He didn't speak. He just sat with his back to the wall, eyes locked on nothing.
They gave him space.
Mira went next. Confident, like she could out-stare a memory.
She walked in without hesitation, arms crossed. The light flared.
Her body snapped back like she'd been struck.
One foot. Two.
She staggered, reached for the edge of the circle, and caught herself on trembling knees.
Then she stood.
Eyes wet, jaw clenched.
"I'm fine," she said.
No one believed her.
No one questioned her either.
Joey waited until last.
He didn't want them to see him weak—not again. Not like before.
He stepped forward without a word. The orb flared a deeper blue, almost violet. His eyes locked forward. His jaw set.
Whatever he saw, it shook him.
Because when he came back, Joey looked... smaller.
Not broken.
Not defeated.
But real.
His usual smirk didn't return until he dropped back beside the others and muttered, "I think I just argued with myself for fifteen minutes."
Katie chuckled. Soft. Warm.
It helped.
Later, while the others rested, Conner opened the skill scroll.
[Skill Scroll: Reactive Guard (D-Rank)]Triggers a rapid reflex action upon receiving surprise or blindside attacks. Increases defensive reaction time by 50% and reduces incoming damage by 40%. One trigger per 60 seconds.
He didn't hesitate.
He gripped the scroll and let the mana flood through him. It wasn't painful—but sharp, like a breath of ice-water down the spine. His body tensed, then relaxed.
A part of him clicked into place.
Like the skill had always been there, waiting.
"I can't afford to be surprised down here," he murmured, eyes narrowed. "Not again."
As they prepared to move on, the orb flickered one last time behind them.
A pulse.
Not toward them.
Upward.
As if sending a signal.
No one noticed it.
But something did.
Far beneath them, past stone and mana and silence, a symbol flickered to life on an ancient wall. It was the same as the one from the door: a mirrored circle.
And beside it, for just a moment—a hand.
Stone.
Motionless.
Then a finger twitched.