Alden paused at the top of the marble staircase, watching faint motes of white and blue light swirl along the banister. Only moments before, he had stood at a fork in the path, a choice between two distinct futures. One arch had promised ruinous power, and the other had promised protective might. He had chosen the Path of Aegis, guided by a conviction shaped by every moment of terror, grief, and triumph he had experienced so far. Now arcs of gold tinged electricity traced across his fingertips in time with his unsteady breathing.
A subtle tremor passed through the steps beneath him, as though the great labyrinth around him were alive. The hush that settled in his ears felt larger than anything he had faced before, yet he kept moving, motivated by the silent directives of the System and by his own fierce determination to uncover the truth behind this hidden place. The glow in the corridor behind him began to fade, urging him to descend.
He set one foot on the first step, bracing himself with a grimace. Lingering aches from previous encounters had anchored themselves in his muscles, reminding him of every clash and narrow escape. His left shoulder still throbbed from the Guardian's strike, and the scratches from insect-like creatures remained tender. The illusions that had nearly overwhelmed him had left a different kind of scar, a deep weariness that surfaced whenever he doubted his own resolve.
A sensation of watchfulness hung in the air, as if the labyrinth were fully aware of each breath he took. He stood motionless for a moment, gathering his strength in the quiet. Perhaps the labyrinth was waiting to see if he would falter. Perhaps it was curious about how he would react when cornered. He drew a measured breath, then resumed his descent.
The stairs led him into a wide hall formed from dark basalt shot through with glowing mineral veins. Lavender light pulsed along those veins, reminding him of the energy that had nearly consumed him while attuning to the labyrinth's core. Rows of columns lined each side of the space, and the floor was so polished it reflected his silhouette. In that reflection, he could see arcs of gold tinged energy dancing along his arms, a sign of the ability he had earned upon choosing Aegis.
His steps carried an unintentional resonance in the stillness. When he reached the middle of the hall, he found a vivid mosaic at his feet. The tiles showed scenes of ancient warriors, swirling runes, and strange beasts. One particular tile drew his eye: a lone figure standing under a fractured sky, arms raised to channel lightning. The circular lines around its arms reminded him of the arcs he summoned in his own defensive aura, and he felt his pulse quicken. This chamber seemed older than anything else in the labyrinth.
He crouched and placed his fingers on the cool tile. The instant he touched it, letters appeared in his vision.
DING
Stage Two: Maze of Ymir Sub Archive Discovered
Access: Granted
Confusion rippled through him. Stage Two referred to the labyrinth he had already passed, yet this mosaic appeared to tie the place to an older, possibly forgotten history. He wondered if he had triggered a memory function or stumbled upon a piece of the System that had never been fully updated. A faint hum drew his attention to the far side of the hall, where a circular portal shimmered into view. Its edges were etched with cryptic glyphs, and each glyph glowed with the same lavender hue as the veins overhead. He sensed a silent presence there, as though he was being watched by beings just beyond sight.
He steadied his breathing and forced his tired legs to move. Adaptive Will flared inside him, flooding him with the warmth of renewed focus, though a nagging thought reminded him that each new level had cost him dearly in energy and pain. He moved forward, scanning for traps, and saw the portal's swirls of silver and blue rippling as if to beckon him closer.
He glanced back at the mosaic, focusing on the lightning wielder. That image anchored him and gave him the courage to proceed. Then he stepped into the portal in a single cautious movement. This passage felt different, more like sliding through calm water than being pulled by force. Instead of a dizzying rush of color, he felt only a gentle lurch followed by the solid touch of a new floor beneath his boots.
He stood now in a corridor made of polished metal that reflected the faint pinkish glow of the ambient light. Everything felt cold, enough to raise goosebumps on his skin. The distant hum was still present, a soft rhythmic vibration that seemed to pulse through the walls themselves.
Partway along the corridor, he spotted items scattered on the ground: a rotted satchel and a tarnished dagger. He knelt to inspect them. The dagger's chipped blade and worn handle bore a crest in the shape of a serpent wrapped around a tower. Alden felt a jolt of surprise. This was proof that someone else had ventured here long ago, which upended his assumption that he was the first visitor to the labyrinth in recent memory.
He lifted the satchel's cracked flap. Inside he found an empty flask, a shard of broken mirror, and a folded piece of parchment. Most of the ink had faded, but a few lines remained:
"…illusions stronger than any I have seen
If you discover this, question every reflection
The labyrinth… full of regrets…"
A chill moved through him as he recalled the illusions that had attacked him in an obsidian chamber, illusions that targeted the most vulnerable corners of his mind. The person who wrote these words must have encountered something at least as frightening. He wondered if they had survived. The decaying satchel and sprouting weeds suggested otherwise.
He tucked the parchment into his own pouch, whispering a silent oath to avoid a similar end. Setting the satchel carefully aside, he examined the dagger again. The crest with the serpent and tower reminded him of whispered stories about higher level Trials known as Towers. Perhaps this was a relic from a distant time, dropped by someone who had hoped to claim great power. The labyrinth seemed to nudge him forward, so he let the dagger lie and moved on.
The corridor opened into a circular chamber lined with tall columns fashioned from glittering metal. The floor was set with faintly glowing crystals that pulsed in time with his own heartbeat. Overhead, a soft glow mimicked pale moonlight. The entire space breathed with an ancient stillness.
He took another step. Shadowy silhouettes began to appear around the columns, taking the forms of robed figures and armored warriors. Their outlines were indistinct, as if they had been carved from a smoky glass. They moved in a slow procession, tracing a circle along the outer wall. They did not notice Alden, instead repeating the same drifting pattern again and again.
He froze. Memories of illusions that forced him to relive personal horrors flickered in his mind. These figures were different. They did not attack or even acknowledge him. He eased forward, drawn to one silhouette that carried something near its chest. It looked like a small sphere etched with swirling runes, an object guarded with a melancholy reverence. Alden could sense a profound sadness from these apparitions, as though they repeated a final ritual from a time now lost.
He followed the circle of nameless shapes until they converged around a raised dais at the far side of the room. The dais glowed softly, and on its surface was the serpent and tower crest he had seen on the dagger. Had these solemn figures belonged to some ancient faction that once walked these halls?
Adaptive Will spurred him onward, pushing back the dread that wanted to seize his heart. He wove between the drifting shapes, expecting at any moment for them to lash out or ensnare him in illusions. Yet they only continued their silent cycle. When he climbed onto the dais, the polished stone glowed with a gentle radiance. Another presence took form before him, different from the silhouettes. This figure wore ragged robes and appeared far more substantial than the others. Alden's heart thudded in his chest as he waited for it to speak.
"These shapes are fragments left by those who sought what lies in these halls," the robed figure said, gesturing toward the drifting silhouettes. "They left behind pieces of themselves and never escaped."
Alden looked around at the silent shapes with a growing ache in his chest. The scrawled warning in the parchment had spoken of illusions and regrets. Seeing these frozen forms was sobering evidence of how many had failed here.
"You, who came on a path that even this place barely recalls, must heed their lesson," the spirit continued. "A final threshold still awaits. This labyrinth will either grant or take."
Alden's mind whirled with questions. He remembered the battered training yard in Sunder's Crossing, the illusions that almost broke him, and the robed specter that forced him to unify the Rune of Clarity. "Is there a way to release them?" he asked, nodding toward the drifting shapes.
The spirit did not answer directly. It raised a transparent hand, summoning a small orb of golden light that floated into Alden's palm. Warmth spread through his arms and chest. A new interface screen flickered into his vision.
DING
Acquired: Remnant of the Forgotten
Grants further resistance to illusions
He let out a shaky breath. This was another gift, or perhaps a necessary tool for what was still to come. The robed figure began to fade, dissolving into pale motes. At the same time, the silhouettes also vanished, each one winking out as if unburdened from an ancient duty. The dais fell silent.
The floor rumbled, revealing a hidden door in the far wall. The door sloped downward, leading to deeper layers of the labyrinth. Alden glanced back at the dim chamber, feeling the weight of what he had witnessed. He had gained another advantage, merging with the Rune of Clarity and his newly forged Aegis skill, but the sight of those lost figures reminded him that any misstep here was final.
He stepped off the dais. He carried only his instincts, his growing skill, and a handful of relics gleaned from earlier trials. Others had met their end in these corridors, leaving behind small clues and glimpses of their stories. He had no intention of joining them.
A hush settled over the next passage as he entered the newly opened door. The floor spiraled downward, and faint runes flickered into sight along the walls, illuminating shards of rock in pale light. Although he had chosen the Path of Aegis, he knew more challenges awaited. This labyrinth was far from finished with him.
A soft breeze drifted upward from the darkness, smelling of stale earth and faintly charged air. He remembered the mosaic of the one who wielded lightning against a fractured sky. Perhaps many had tried their own lightning or other abilities over the centuries. Perhaps each one had faced a final decision in this place. He would do everything in his power to avoid meeting the same fate as those left behind.
He continued, reaching for the steady warmth in his chest where Remnant of the Forgotten had settled. He also felt the hum of Arc Surge in his arms, crackling gently. Adaptive Will answered the determination in his mind, strengthening the mental defenses he had forged through pain and struggle. He carried the memory of those who had been trapped, the battered dagger and scrap of parchment, and the illusions that preyed on every regret.
He stopped to wipe sweat from his forehead. Much of this area seemed incomplete, as if part of the labyrinth's construction had stalled and never resumed. Carvings on the walls trailed off abruptly, leaving half formed glyphs. He moved with care over loose stones that scattered across the floor. There was no map or guide except for the faint nudges of the labyrinth's presence. Those nudges urged him forward, deeper into the unknown.
At last he spotted a faint glow up ahead. The descending passage flattened out, leading to an archway that opened into a large void. He could only see stray flickers of pale light inside. He clenched his fists, arcs of gold tinted electricity rippling across his palms. He sensed that the next test, perhaps the final one in this stage, lay in that darkness beyond the arch. His heart drummed in his chest.
He inhaled and walked through. If the labyrinth had taught him anything, it was that safety did not exist here. He had only the convictions within him, the promise that no one else would suffer if he had the power to prevent it. He pressed forward into the darkness, trusting the faint runes to light his way. Each footstep hammered like a drumbeat, and pain flared in his side, but his resolve did not falter. He reminded himself of the tools he carried: Arc Surge, Adaptive Will, the Rune of Clarity, and now the Remnant of the Forgotten. He could only hope they would be enough.
He kept descending, feeling the air grow colder as the hush deepened. When he reached a bend, he saw another opening filled with a swirl of pale luminescence. It looked like both a barrier and an invitation, a new threshold to cross. He lifted his head, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward. The labyrinth still had one more judgment to pass on him, and he intended to face it without turning back.