---
The wind had died by morning. No birdsong greeted the dawn—only the low groan of shifting stone and the dry whisper of leaves stirring in half-breaths. The ruins were changing again. Beneath their feet, the earth felt unstable—like something vast and slow was awakening far below.
Marcel led, his hand tight around the shard. The warmth it once carried was gone. Now it pulsed cold, deliberate, like it knew something they didn't. Tarin followed in silence, his hand resting on the hilt of a rusted blade salvaged from a fallen scout's body. It wasn't much—but it was weight. Something real.
They followed a fractured path through the moss-choked outpost, navigating broken walls and hollow towers, until the trail ended at a collapsed courtyard. In its center stood a stone monolith half-swallowed by roots, bearing a mark neither of them had seen before—a spiral curling inward, lined with unfamiliar glyphs.
As they stepped closer, the system responded.
> [Dungeon Trial Location Identified – Entry Condition Met]
[Accessing Sub-Node: Tier I | Echoing Abyss]
[Warning: Trial is not calibrated to host vitals. Proceed with caution.]
A circular platform cracked open beneath the monolith, revealing stairs spiraling into the dark. A gust of wind rushed from below—cold, sharp, and unnatural. Tarin instinctively stepped back.
"I don't like this," he muttered.
Marcel didn't respond immediately. He stared down into the stairwell. The darkness wasn't normal. It swallowed light. It felt... aware.
He thought of the murals. Of the shard fusing with his flesh. Of his rage surging in the fight days before. The price for power was increasing—and whatever waited below, it would demand more.
"We need to understand this power," Marcel said, more to himself than Tarin. "Or it'll own us."
Tarin hesitated, then nodded. "Let's just not die understanding it."
They descended.
---
The Echoing Abyss was not a place of stone or flesh.
It was a memory.
The stairs ended in a chamber shaped like a ribcage—walls arching above like the bones of some colossal beast, smooth and seamless. The air was damp and smelled of copper and dust. Runes glowed faintly along the floor, forming a spiral that pulsed in sync with the shard.
Marcel stepped forward. The moment his foot touched the spiral, the chamber responded.
The light changed.
The walls flickered, shifting like reflections on water. A scene replaced them—an illusion, a memory, a trial.
The boys stood in a great hall now. Massive. Gothic. Marble and obsidian. Torches lined the walls, their flames burning blue. A voice filled the chamber—not spoken aloud, but felt deep in the bones.
"Two unbound. One tethered. One untouched."
"Prove what is borrowed. Bleed what is true."
The doors behind them slammed shut.
Ahead, three figures emerged. Mirrored versions of themselves.
Marcel and Tarin—reflected not as they were, but as they could be.
Stronger. Faster. Crueler.
The reflections moved first. Fast.
Marcel clashed with his doppelgänger in a brutal flurry of strikes. Their blades rang like cracked bells, echoing endlessly in the space. But the reflection fought with unnatural precision—no hesitation, no fear. Just raw, sharpened instinct. Its blows carried the weight of a killer born, not trained. Each strike forced Marcel back, inch by inch.
Tarin was knocked to the ground almost instantly. His reflection stalked forward, blade raised.
In that moment, fear surged in him again. The same cold he'd felt at the village—the knife at his throat, the certainty of death. He froze. Breath caught. His fingers refused to move. He couldn't even cry out.
"This is it," he thought. "Again. I'm going to die again."
But something sparked inside him. Not from a system. He couldn't see it—none of it. The screens, the alerts, the status updates were all invisible to him. The system belonged to Marcel. But whatever force governed it... it knew Tarin was blood. And maybe that was enough.
> [Proximity Override – Passive Link Engaged]
[Warning: Link is unstable – Support limited to minor response coordination]
Something clicked. His arms moved. His breath returned.
Tarin raised the sword just in time to block the killing blow. Sparks flew. The impact sent pain up his arm, but he gritted his teeth and stood. The reflection struck again—and again. Each blow was heavier than it should be. The mirror-Tarin fought like a beast, relentless, brutal.
"I'm not that person," Tarin whispered, blade trembling. "I won't be."
And he began to fight back.
His swings were messy. Improvised. But they carried raw emotion—fear turned defiance. Every dodge was survival. Every parry was instinct. His muscles screamed, his bones felt hollow, but he refused to fall.
Meanwhile, Marcel was breaking.
His reflection drove him to the edge. Every clash was a test, not just of skill—but of will. The doppelgänger mimicked his every move and improved on it, fighting with surgical brutality.
The shard inside Marcel pulsed harder. It wanted control.
> [Neural Stress Exceeded – Emergency Override Offered]
[Legacy Surge: Optional Integration – Full Sync Warning]
Marcel's mind twisted. He saw flashes—visions not his own. An ancient battlefield. A blade through someone's throat. A tower falling. Voices chanting in a tongue older than words.
"No," Marcel growled. "Not yet."
He let the power in—but only a sliver.
> [Relic Interface Engaged – Neural Strain Exceeding Safe Limits]
[New Trait Revealed: Binding Echo – "To know yourself, kill what you could become."]
With a roar, Marcel struck low, disarmed his reflection, and slammed the bone-handled blade through its chest.
The false-Marcel grinned as it crumbled to ash. "You'll come back to me."
Tarin had his reflection on its knees. Blood ran down his arm. His face was twisted with pain and effort. One final strike—messy, desperate—ended it.
And everything vanished.
The hall. The corpses. The echoes.
They were back in the ribcage-shaped chamber, both on their knees, drenched in sweat and shaking.
The monolith in the center pulsed with light.
> [Trial Passed – Tier I Completed]
[Relic Bond Strengthened – Shard Echo Calibrated]
[Mental Strain: Critical – Recommend Immediate Rest Cycle]
Tarin slumped beside Marcel, hands shaking.
"I saw myself," he whispered. "But... worse. I could have been that."
"We both could."
"What does that make us now?"
Neither had an answer.
---
As they exited the dungeon, the sun had begun to pierce the clouds for the first time in days. A weak light—but light nonetheless.
Marcel didn't trust it.
The shard, still cold in his palm, had gone quiet—but its silence felt more like listening than resting.
They'd passed a test.
But something deeper had seen them.
And it was waiting.