Qiris placed his foot on the first step of the crystal staircase, feeling the coolness of the material through his worn shoe.
Little Idiot, firmly clinging to his shoulder, emitted a slight croak of anticipation. The half-elf cast a final glance towards the labyrinth they had just left, his violet eyes sweeping over the misty expanse that had nearly become their tomb.
"We're not going back in there, are we?" he asked his companion, his voice betraying a mixture of relief and apprehension.
"Ribbit" replied Little Idiot, which seemed to signify enthusiastic agreement.
They then began their ascent, each step emitting a soft blue glow beneath their feet. The crystal seemed to react to their presence, pulsing slightly with each contact. After several dozen steps, Qiris stopped abruptly, his body stiffening.
"Do you feel that, Little Idiot?" he whispered, frowning. His hand instinctively went to his chest, as if to contain a growing discomfort.
The frog tilted its head, looking quizzical, its eyes scanning the space around them.
"This... pressure" explained Qiris, his voice barely louder than a breath. "It's subtle, but it's there. As if the air was becoming thicker."
They resumed their climb, each step becoming a little more arduous than the last. The sensation intensified, transforming their ascent into a struggle against an invisible force. Qiris's muscles began to protest, a dull pain settling in his legs.
"It feels like gravity is increasing" he panted after several hundred steps, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Or maybe I'm just really out of shape."
Little Idiot emitted a "Ribbit" that suspiciously resembled a mocking laugh, its little feet patting Qiris's cheek as if to taunt him.
"Oh, you find that funny?" Qiris retorted, feigning offense, but with a smile on his lips.
Despite the increasing difficulty, they continued their ascent. Each pause was a blessing, allowing Qiris to catch his breath and admire the dizzying view before them.
The labyrinth, seen from above, resembled a luminous spider's web, its corridors forming complex and hypnotic patterns.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said to Little Idiot, his voice filled with wonder. "Hard to believe this magnificent place almost killed us."
After what seemed like an eternity, their muscles crying for mercy and their lungs burning with each breath, they finally reached the top. Before they stood a door made of pure light, shimmering and mysterious. It pulsed gently as if inviting them to cross it.
Qiris looked at Little Idiot, a glimmer of concern in his amethyst eyes. "I don't know what awaits us on the other side" he said, his voice betraying his apprehension. "But we stick together, okay? Whatever happens, we face it as a team."
Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the frog and held it against his chest. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying his nervousness. "No way you're disappearing because of one of your crazy ideas. I couldn't bear to lose you now, you suicidal amphibian."
Taking a deep breath, Qiris stepped forward. The air around the door seemed to vibrate, charged with palpable energy. With a final determined look exchanged with Little Idiot, he crossed the door of light.
Instantly, a sensation of floating engulfed him. It was as if his body and mind were separating, floating freely in a limitless space. Colors swirled around him, forming kaleidoscopic patterns. Images began to flash before his eyes, memories that were not his own, but those of the original host of this body.
He saw himself, younger, sitting in a richly decorated room. The walls were lined with ancient books, and the air was heavy with the smell of parchment and ink. Facing him, an elf of striking beauty, with silver hair cascading over his shoulders and eyes of a deep red, was nonchalantly reading a book. The atmosphere was heavy, charged with a palpable tension that seemed to electrify the air.
The young Qiris, visibly nervous, was fiddling with the edge of his tunic, his fingers fidgeting as if they had a life of their own. The elf, without raising his eyes from his book, suddenly spoke. His voice, deep and melodious, seemed to make the air itself vibrate.
"What do you want to do in life, my son?"
The young boy startled slightly, surprised by the suddenness of the question. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then finally answered in a hesitant voice, almost a whisper.
"I... I would like to become a breeder, and father, help summoners evolve their summons."
A heavy silence settled, so dense it could have been cut with a knife. The elf slowly turned a page in his book, the rustling of the paper resonating like a thunderclap in the silence. The young Qiris, increasingly nervous, felt the need to justify his choice.
"I think it's a noble and useful profession. I could help a lot of people and..."
"Breeder" his father interrupted, his voice as sharp as an ice blade. "That's... interesting."
He closed his book with a sharp snap, the sound making the young boy jump. His red eyes, shining with an almost supernatural intensity, fixed on his son with an almost unbearable intensity.
"But my son must not simply become a breeder. He must be the best. And do you know how one becomes the best?"
The young Qiris, eyes wide, thought for a moment before answering with a timid hope in his voice.
"By training hard?"
A cold laugh filled the room, a sound that seemed devoid of any real joy. It was the laugh of a predator amused by the naivety of its prey.
"Oh, my naive little boy" said the elf, leaning forward, his face inches from his son's. "Training is but a tiny part of the equation. No, to become the best..."
He paused, his eyes shining with an almost unhealthy glow, like burning embers in the darkness.
"To become the best, one must be ready to sacrifice everything on the altar of ambition. Greatness is not obtained by mere perseverance, but by the relentless will to crush everything that stands between you and your goal. Every step towards the summit is paved with the bones of those who were not strong enough, determined enough to reach it."
The young Qiris recoiled slightly in his seat, visibly uncomfortable with his father's intensity. A shiver ran down his spine, and his voice trembled slightly when he dared to ask.
"But, father, isn't that... wrong? Shouldn't we seek to help others rather than crush them?"
The elf rose abruptly, towering over his son. His shadow seemed to extend, engulfing the room in a threatening darkness. His voice, when he spoke again, was imbued with absolute conviction, each word hammered like a nail in the coffin of his son's illusions.
"Good, evil... These are just concepts invented by the weak to protect themselves from the strong. Chains are forged to shackle those who have the potential to rise above the masses. In this world, my son, there are only predators and prey. It's up to you to choose what you want to be. Do you want to be the one who shapes destiny or the one who suffers it?"
These words echoed in Qiris's mind, even as the vision began to fade. He felt pulled backward, gradually returning to reality, these merciless words etched in his memory like an indelible scar.