The trio turned their attention back to the ruins, their realization settling in like a heavy fog. The encounter with the mysterious figure had left them with more questions than answers, but if Sylvie was right, they were facing a much greater threat than they had anticipated. One thing was certain—they could not afford to back down now.
"So, a dungeon? Like with boss monsters and goblins and all that?" Haruto asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he tried to wrap his mind around what Sylvie had just said. Bane shook his head slowly. "It's impossible. There hasn't been a dungeon awakening in centuries. Doesn't it require an obscene amount of magic to create one?"
Sylvie, her mind racing, couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her chest. If this truly was a dungeon, they would be the first to step foot in one in years—an unprecedented discovery. "Yes and no," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "Not all dungeons have bosses or beasts you must fight. The more powerful the creator, the more complex the dungeon can be. It makes so much sense—the creepy figure that greeted us, the ancient runes… Just hear me out. Remember the story of the fanatics who went up into the mountains and disappeared? What if they didn't disappear, but instead performed a ritual to create this? What if this was their intent all along? I mean, the legend says that dungeons preserve the intentions and will of the creator. So, in this case, that would be Kahl. The figure said, 'Welcome to the Trials of Kahl.'"
Haruto began to see the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, and it seemed disturbingly plausible. "So, what are the Trials? And was that figure Kahl?"
"Whatever the case, let's leave and regroup. We need to report this," Bane suggested, his voice firm.
But as they turned to leave, their stomachs dropped. "Where is the entrance?" Haruto asked, his voice betraying his shock as he scanned the surroundings. The entrance they had come through was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh no," Sylvie whispered, realization dawning on her. "I think we inadvertently triggered the dungeon. If it truly is a dungeon, we can't leave until we complete it."
After a brief, tense discussion, they decided to press on and complete the dungeon. It was clear there was no escape, at least not at the moment.
As they ventured deeper into the Ruins of Kahl, the echoes of the figure's warning reverberated in their minds. The path ahead was shrouded in mystery and danger, but they knew that whatever awaited them, they would face it together.
Despite the ominous atmosphere, they had yet to encounter any monsters, and curiosity gnawed at them—what was the true purpose of this dungeon? Eventually, they came upon an empty room with a single door. With no other options, they entered.
As Haruto stepped through the door, he felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He was no longer in the ruins. Instead, he found himself standing in the middle of a bustling city—the city from his world. 'What the hell is going on here?' he thought, panic rising in his chest. He spun around, expecting to see Bane and Sylvie, but they were nowhere to be found. "Hey, hey, Dimitri, is this some kind of joke?" he called out, his voice barely audible over the noise of the city. People walked past him, casting puzzled glances his way, as if he were a madman. Suddenly, the blare of a horn jolted him, and he jumped back just in time to avoid being hit by a speeding car. His mind was reeling. Could this really be happening? Was he truly back in his world?
Meanwhile, Sylvie was experiencing her own trial. She found herself back at her parents' home in Mordell, sitting at the dinner table as her mother cooked and her father engaged in conversation with her older sister, Danity. 'Where am I? How did I get here?' she thought, her heart pounding. She quickly realized this had to be part of the dungeon, but the question remained—how was she supposed to escape? Just then, they heard the sound of a carriage pulling up outside. "Oh no, they're here earlier than expected. Quickly, everyone outside now!" her father urged, his voice laced with urgency. Sylvie recognized the scene all too well. Her father only acted this way when the Agetons, the family they served, were involved.
While Sylvie and Haruto were locked in their respective trials, Bane stepped through the same door, but what awaited him on the other side was different. He stood in a dimly lit chamber, his eyes scanning the cold, stone walls that encased him. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of unseen forces. He could feel the oppressive energy gnawing at the edges of his mind, threatening to stir up old resentments he had long buried. Suddenly, the mysterious figure reappeared, emerging from the shadows as if they were part of the dungeon itself. Their presence was unmistakable—a calm, steady force amidst the swirling chaos.
"My, isn't this a surprise," the figure said, their voice smooth and unhurried.
Bane turned to face them, his guard up. Now, with the hood removed, he could see the figure's full appearance—long white hair cascading down their back, pale skin that seemed to glint in the dim light. "So, you're Kahl?" Bane asked, his voice steady but laced with suspicion.
"No," the figure replied, their tone almost amused. "I am but a humble servant of my master. But I must admit, I am curious about you. You are strong, but your companions…" The figure's voice trailed off, a soft echo in the vast chamber. "Strength alone will not be enough to overcome the trials they face. The heart is a fragile thing, easily swayed by pain and bitterness. These trials are special, you see, and you, young one, harbor no resentment in your heart. It's a rare thing to find in someone so young."
The figure began to casually pace around the room, their presence both unsettling and captivating. "Resentment is a difficult thing to confront, especially when it's buried deep," Bane said, his brow furrowing as he considered the figure's words. "So, is that what this dungeon is? A test of one's heart? To see if they harbor such feelings? What are my friends experiencing?"
"That, young one, is the question," the figure responded, their voice enigmatic. "But I cannot answer it. As I said, this trial is special. I cannot say what lies within their minds… but know this: their choices will affect all of you." The figure's gaze was piercing, as if they could see through Bane's very soul. "Resentment is like a thorn lodged in the flesh. The longer it remains, the deeper it burrows, infecting the soul with its poison. It is not always visible, but it festers, growing stronger with time. Your friends must find the strength not just to endure the pain, but to pull the thorn free."
The realization struck Bane like a hammer. It wasn't just that people had gone missing—those who had vanished were likely trapped within this dungeon, unable to leave because they couldn't pass the trials. But this figure underestimated them. "Whatever tricks you think will work, you can think again," Bane declared, his resolve hardening.
The figure smirked, their expression inscrutable. "Resentment can be… comforting, in a way. It gives you something to hold onto when everything else feels uncertain." Bane sighed, the weight of his past pressing down on him like a physical burden.
"But it is also deceptive," the figure continued. "Resentment disguises itself as strength, as resolve, but it is a weakness. It binds you to the past, preventing you from seeing the possibilities of the future. To hold onto resentment is to chain yourself to a sinking ship, refusing to see the lifeboat that could save you."
Bane's gaze shifted away, his expression troubled. "I've seen what resentment can do. I've lived it. But I've also seen how it can drive people, push them to achieve things they never thought possible."
The figure nodded slowly. "It can be a motivator, yes, but at what cost? Resentment may push you to achieve, but it warps the achievement, tainting it with bitterness. It turns victories hollow, for they are won not with joy or fulfillment, but with the cold satisfaction of spite. Is that the path you wish for your friends?"
Bane remained silent for a long moment, his thoughts a tumultuous swirl. "I don't want that for them," he finally admitted. "I want them to be free of it, to find peace."
The figure's gaze remained cold and unyielding. "The trials they face are not meant to be easy. They are designed to strip away the layers of defense, to force them to confront the darkest parts of themselves. Resentment thrives in the dark, in the places we fear to look. But if they can bring it into the light, they may find that it holds less power than they believed."
Bane clenched his fists, the tension in his body mirroring the inner conflict he knew his friends were enduring. "And if they can't? What happens then?"
The figure's voice was firm, unyielding. "Then you all will remain trapped, prisoners in this dungeon. Resentment will continue to gnaw at them, to shape their decisions. But even then, it is not the end. The battle against resentment will become an endless loop, a daily struggle. It can never be fully conquered.
Bane closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. 'Guys, you must succeed at all costs,' he thought, sending a silent plea to his friends. The figure noticed the determination in Bane's expression. "Hope is a powerful thing, young one. It is the seed from which resilience grows. But remember, the path they walk is their own. You can only wait and hope your companions are as strong as you believe they are."
Bane opened his eyes, his gaze once again fixed on the doors. "And if they do succeed? What then?"
The figure smiled—a faint, almost imperceptible curve of their lips. "Then they will emerge as individuals who have reclaimed their true selves, free from the chains of the past. And in that freedom, they will find a strength far greater than any resentment could ever provide."
As the silence of the dungeon pressed in around them, Bane found an odd solace in the figure's words. To possess such understanding, this individual had likely achieved a level of enlightenment that few could comprehend. "How many have succeeded in this dungeon?" Bane asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The figure turned to him, their expression inscrutable. "Two," they replied, before vanishing into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared.