[The descent did not welcome him.]
[It swallowed him.]
[Each step downward felt heavier than the last.]
[Not because of gravity.]
[Because of something else.]
[Pressure.]
[Not on his body.]
[On his existence.]
Abaksa Einsro— "…What is this…?"
[The air thickened.]
[His breath slowed.]
[His thoughts dragged.]
[Even his heartbeat… felt watched.]
[Warning… Mental Pressure Increasing…]
"…Of course it is."
[The path narrowed.]
[Stone walls closing in.]
[Then—]
[It opened.]
[A vast chamber.]
[Empty.]
[No guardian.]
[No movement.]
[No sound.]
"…That's worse."
[Abaksa stepped forward.]
[One step.]
[Two.]
[Then—]
[The world changed.]
[Light.]
[Warm.]
[Blinding.]
[He froze.]
"…No…"
[Grass.]
[Green.]
[Alive.]
[Voices.]
[Familiar.]
Medir— "Tirvan, you're late again."
[Abaksa's breath stopped.]
[He turned.]
[The Elf Prince stood there.]
[Alive.]
[Unharmed.]
Brakka— "Hah! Still sleeping like a corpse?"
[The Dwarf Lord laughed.]
[The battlefield.]
[Before the final war.]
"…This…"
[His fingers trembled.]
"…isn't real…"
Medir— "You look pale."
[They walked toward him.]
[Smiling.]
Brakka— "Don't tell me you're scared now?"
[Their voices…]
[Perfect.]
[Too perfect.]
[Abaksa stepped back.]
Abaksa Einsro— "…You're dead."
[Silence.]
[Their smiles… didn't fade.]
Medir— "We trusted you."
Brakka— "We followed you."
[The world dimmed.]
Medir— "And you died first."
[The words hit harder than any blade.]
Brakka— "Left us behind."
[The sky darkened.]
[The grass turned to ash.]
[Blood soaked the ground.]
[Their bodies changed.]
[Broken.]
[Destroyed.]
Medir— "You failed."
Brakka— "Again."
[They stepped closer.]
Voices— "Again."
"Again."
"Again."
[The chamber echoed.]
[Closing in.]
[Abaksa's breath shook.]
"…Stop…"
[His knees trembled.]
[His grip weakened.]
[This…]
[This was worse than death.]
[Because it was true.]
[He had failed.]
[He had died first.]
[He had left them.]
[His chest tightened.]
[His vision blurred.]
[The weight pressed down.]
[Crushing.]
[Mental Collapse Imminent…]
"…No…"
[Not again.]
[Not like this.]
[Bruts' voice echoed.]
"Pain is not your enemy."
"Running from it is."
[Abaksa's eyes tightened.]
"…Then I won't run."
[He stood.]
[Slowly.]
[The pressure increased.]
[The voices grew louder.]
Medir— "You abandoned us."
Brakka— "You were too weak."
Abaksa Einsro— "…Yes."
[Silence.]
[The hallucinations paused.]
"…I was."
[The words cut deep.]
[But they were real.]
Abaksa Einsro— "I failed you."
[His voice steadied.]
"…And I'll carry that."
[The pressure shifted.]
"…But I'm not dying with it."
[The chamber trembled.]
[The illusions flickered.]
Abaksa Einsro— "You trusted me."
"…So I'll become someone worth that trust."
[Light cracked through the darkness.]
[The figures shattered.]
[Like glass.]
[The voices disappeared.]
[Silence returned.]
[Trial 3 Complete…]
[Abaksa collapsed to one knee.]
[Breathing hard.]
"…Three…"
[His body trembled.]
[Not from fear.]
[From exhaustion.]
[But his mind—]
[Clear.]
[Mental Resistance Increased…]
[Plot Armour Unlock Condition: Near Completion…]
[His eyes sharpened.]
"…Almost…"
[The chamber shifted again.]
[Deeper.]
[Darker.]
[Something changed.]
[This time—]
[It wasn't just pressure.]
[It was presence.]
[Watching.]
[Abaksa slowly stood.]
"…Come out."
[Silence.]
[Then—]
[A step.]
[Not loud.]
[But absolute.]
[A figure emerged.]
[Humanoid.]
[But wrong.]
[Its body seemed unstable.]
[Like it didn't belong to reality.]
[Its eyes—]
[Empty.]
??? — "You…"
[Its voice echoed strangely.]
[Layered.]
"You shouldn't be here."
[Abaksa's grip tightened.]
"…Another guardian?"
[The figure tilted its head.]
"No."
"Correction."
[The air distorted.]
"You are the anomaly."
[Abaksa's heart skipped.]
"…What?"
[The figure stepped closer.]
"This path…"
"…was not meant for you."
[The system flickered violently.]
[Error… Error…]
[Temporal Conflict Detected…]
[Abaksa's eyes widened.]
"…So that's it…"
[Another regressor.]
[Or something worse.]
[The figure raised its hand.]
"Correction must be applied."
[The air shattered.]
[Abaksa moved.]
[Instinct.]
[Too slow.]
[Impact.]
[His body slammed into the wall.]
[Everything shook.]
[Blood filled his mouth.]
"…Damn it…"
[This was different.]
[Not a trial.]
[A threat.]
[The figure advanced.]
"Fate deviation unacceptable."
[Abaksa pushed himself up.]
[His body barely responded.]
[But his eyes—]
[Burned.]
"…Then I'll force it."
[The system pulsed.]
[Condition Met…]
[Plot Armour…]
[Paused.]
[…Partial Unlock Initiated.]
[Something shifted.]
[Not outside.]
[Inside.]
[The world slowed.]
[The figure moved again.]
[This time—]
[Abaksa saw it.]
[Not faster.]
[Clearer.]
[He stepped.]
[One movement.]
[Just enough.]
[The attack missed.]
[Silence.]
[The figure stopped.]
"…Adjustment detected."
[Abaksa steadied himself.]
[Breathing heavy.]
"…Now we're talking."
[The fight had changed.]
[And for the first time—]
[Survival felt possible.]
[But deep within the system—]
[Something else reacted.]
"The eleventh has touched it."
"Interesting…"
[The true game had begun.]