The sound of the gate continued.
Deep.
Dragging.
Ancient.
It wasn't just stone grinding against stone. It was something greater, something deeper—as if entire layers of Mount Arf were being forced to acknowledge an opening that should never occur before human eyes. The newly reunited group barely had time to absorb the relief of seeing each other again; the presence beyond the fracture had already devoured any simple sense of safety. Arthur stopped a few steps from Alexius and the others, his chest still carrying the residue of what had happened in the previous chamber, while Mia, beside him, watched the widening gap in the gate with the same caution of someone witnessing a wound opening in the body of the world.
From the fissure, a mist began to emerge.
It did not come fast.
It came heavy.
Too dense to be mere smoke, too dark to be just shadow, thick as if each layer of that mass carried remnants of ancient ruin. It first spread along the ground, crawling across the stone, rising slowly in layered waves, as if testing the space—feeling those who stood before it. The temperature dropped. The air became harder to breathe. The light reflected on nearby surfaces dimmed for a brief moment, as if brightness itself withdrew from that presence.
Ichika stepped back almost on instinct.
— This… this doesn't look like normal mist.
— Because it isn't — Alexius said, without taking his eyes off the opening. His voice was low, steady, but carried a sharp awareness that cut through the tension. — Stay together. Don't touch anything that comes out of there unless I say so.
Kidero slightly raised his sword, the flames still low but alive.
— This looks like a trap.
— The entire mountain looks like a trap — Ayame replied, without looking away from the mist.
Kazuko, still pale, breathed through his mouth once before speaking:
— If something jumps out of there, I vote we put sensei in front.
— Your vote doesn't count — Shirō said dryly.
Despite the tone, the tension did not break. The entire group remained rigid, trapped in that moment where the darkness seemed to decide whether it would merely pass by… or swallow them as well. The mist advanced a little further, surrounded their feet, touched the stone, climbed along the walls—then slowly began to dissipate. Not completely. Never completely. Just enough to allow them to see beyond.
And what lay beyond held them all in silence.
The hall was enormous.
Not enormous like a large chamber.
Enormous like something built for beings who did not measure the world the way they did. Colossal pillars rose at regular intervals, stretching toward a ceiling lost in height and shadow. Some were smooth, nearly black; others carried mineral veins that glowed faintly, as if crystals had grown within them over ages. Luminous structures were embedded between the columns—points of blue, gold, white, and red light that did not illuminate warmly, but instead cast unstable reflections across the dark stone floor. The echo was different there: deeper, slower, as if the space responded with delay to each breath.
Further ahead, arranged in wide rows, stood transparent structures.
Not ordinary displays.
They resembled blocks of translucent crystal—tall, thick, some too precise to have been shaped by human hands, others imperfect in a way that felt almost organic. Inside them rested artifacts.
Many.
More than any of them had expected.
Swords.
Spears.
Masks.
Rings.
Chains.
Orbs.
Books sealed with living clasps of light.
Bracelets darkened by something that wasn't rust.
Scepters carved with ancient symbols.
Fragments that seemed incomplete—and yet dangerous.
For a few seconds, no one spoke. The sensation of entering that place resembled stepping into a graveyard of dormant power, where each object still held a fragment of intention, a memory of use, a will waiting for the moment it would be called back into the world.
It was Alexius who broke the silence.
— So this is it.
Arthur shifted his gaze toward him.
— Sensei… the artifact you were looking for…
Alexius took a moment before answering, as if measuring how much was worth saying.
— There is a relic in this place — he said. — Or at least, everything the records indicated led us here. An artifact capable of allowing someone to exceed their own magical limit without being immediately destroyed by the overload.
Mia frowned.
— Without being destroyed… immediately?
Alexius met her gaze.
— The body has a limit. Too much mana, too much pressure, too much energy… all of it has a cost. Cracking, collapse, loss of control. You've heard of it.
Ayame crossed her arms.
— So the relic reduces that cost?
— Or redirects it — he replied. — Or changes how it manifests. We don't know enough yet. That's why we're here.
Shirō looked toward the rows of crystal.
— And in the middle of all this, we have to find the exact one?
— No — Alexius answered. — We have to find the right one… before we touch the wrong one.
The words weighed heavily in the air.
For a brief moment, the hall felt even larger.
Mia cast a quick glance at Arthur. He noticed. He knew what was behind that look: the memory of the mirror chamber, the entity, the pain, the frozen time, everything they still hadn't said. Alexius noticed the exchange as well, but did not press. Perhaps because there was already too much in that place to read all at once.
Still, a few words came.
Few.
Controlled.
Ayame spoke first:
— And you? What happened to your group?
Arthur and Mia exchanged another glance.
She answered first.
— The path distorted several times. There were… records on the walls. Mirrors. Things that didn't make sense.
Kidero narrowed his eyes.
— That's it?
Arthur kept his tone neutral.
— There was more. But nothing we can properly explain right now.
Kidero looked ready to push further, but Alexius raised a hand.
— Later. First, the hall.
That was enough.
They began to move carefully, spreading only as much as necessary to observe the structures without losing sight of one another. The deeper they went, the clearer it became that this place did not simply store powerful weapons. It stored compressed histories in the form of objects. There was a spear with a white shaft that created a faint distortion of gravity around it, bending the light subtly. There was a dark metal mask with no openings for eyes or mouth, and yet Arthur felt the unsettling impression that it was watching those who passed. In another structure, an opaque red orb contained shifting shapes, like scenes attempting to form and collapse at the same time. Further along, a chain of impossibly thin links moved in irregular intervals, as if something pulled it from the other side of a nonexistent space.
Ichika stopped before a thick book sealed with three silver clasps.
— Is it… breathing?
Shirō leaned in slightly.
The covers rose and fell in a slow rhythm.
— Don't touch it — Ayame said before she even considered it.
Kensha, from Alexius's group, pointed at a short-handled weapon with three curved blades.
— That thing looks like it was made to rip something alive out of someone.
— Great observation for a room full of ancient cursed objects — Kazuko muttered.
No one argued.
The place demanded respect without ever asking for it aloud. At the same time, there was something unsettling in the way certain artifacts seemed to rest with patience, like predators sleeping with their eyes barely closed. Arthur passed a structure where a small black blade floated without a handle, suspended at the center of the crystal. As he drew near, he felt a faint discomfort along his face, as if his skin rejected the proximity. Mia, meanwhile, paused briefly before a pale bracelet inside which small translucent green leaves slowly grew and withered in an endless cycle.
— It's beautiful — she whispered.
— Beautiful rarely means safe in a place like this — Alexius said, continuing forward.
They moved deeper. The rows of crystal opened into wider corridors, and between structures, faint engravings appeared along the floor—ancient grooves that only caught the light at certain angles. In several moments, Arthur had the clear impression that the hall was reacting to their presence—not with open hostility, but with attention. As if each step was being recorded.
After several minutes, Alexius stopped before a taller structure. Inside rested a necklace—simple at first glance, a dark chain with a circular pendant fractured by thin lines of white light. It didn't shine brightly, didn't impose itself like the surrounding weapons, but something about it lingered.
— This kind of piece is what we're looking for — he said.
Mia stepped slightly closer.
— Is that the artifact?
Alexius studied it a moment longer before shaking his head.
— No. This one is broken. Or exhausted. But it's from the same lineage.
Arthur looked closer. The fractures didn't feel like damage. They felt like consequence.
— So the relic could be anywhere here? — Shirō asked.
— Yes — Alexius replied. — And it may be protected precisely by not appearing important at first glance.
That changed the way they looked at everything.
They continued.
They found a short sword whose sheath was covered in thunder symbols, faint sparks forming between the guard and blade; a broken crown that made the ground subtly vibrate at irregular intervals; a set of three rings orbiting one another without ever touching; an incomplete armor set whose missing sections seemed outlined by a translucent glow, as if invisible metal still existed. Arthur paused briefly before a small cylinder of deep blue crystal mounted on a stone pedestal. Something inside shifted when he passed, like a point of light trying to recognize him—but it faded before fully reacting.
The hall seemed endless.
Or perhaps it was built to make those who entered believe that.
Occasionally, short comments surfaced—tense, brief, quickly swallowed by the scale of the place. Sanzu muttered that half those weapons looked worth more than a kingdom. Ichika replied that half of them looked like they wanted to kill them just by being seen. Kidero's attention was clearly drawn to blades, especially those tied to fire or heat. Ayame focused more on mechanisms and triggers. Mia divided her attention between the artifacts and Arthur, as if still unsure whether the most dangerous thing in that journey was something sealed in crystal—or something walking beside her.
It was only much later that the environment shifted again.
The rows grew more spaced.
The crystals rarer.
The lights dimmer.
And then they reached the final structure in that corridor.
Before they fully saw it, they felt it.
Not as an explosion of power.
But as silent pressure.
Contained heat.
A presence on the verge of opening its eyes.
Inside the crystal rested a sword.
Its sheath was dark, streaked with golden lines that resembled sunlight breaking through fire-heavy clouds. The guard curved outward in shapes that evoked an expanding sun—not round, but alive, aggressive, as if flames had been forged into metal. The blade, partially visible, carried a scorched glow along its edges, a reflection that seemed warmer than it should be. It emitted no flame. It didn't need to. It felt forged from the idea of fire itself.
But that wasn't what held their gaze.
Between the base of the blade and the sheath—resting in that narrow space where the metal met but did not fully disappear—was a small figure.
Not small like a toy.
Small like the size of a human hand.
A delicate feminine form, asleep, made of a luminous substance so subtle that for a moment Mia thought it was just a reflection. It wasn't. The figure was real, curled slightly as if sleeping for far too long, its fine contours suggesting an ancient spiritual nature. It did not resemble any common race. There was something elemental about it. Something primordial. Something far too old to be mere decoration.
Arthur stepped forward without realizing.
His eyes fixed on it.
— A… Primordial Spirit…? — Mia whispered.
No one answered immediately.
Because they all felt it.
The sword was not dead.
The small figure was not dead.
They were sleeping.
But sleeping at the edge of awakening.
The crystal surrounding it was different—thicker, purer, as if this containment had been made with more care… or more fear. A faint golden pulse flickered between the sheath and the blade. So faint it could have been missed.
Arthur felt his right eye burn.
Just a little.
Enough to make him stop.
Mia noticed.
— Arthur?
— I felt it — he said, without looking away.
Kidero stepped closer from the other side, his eyes fixed on the guard, the blade, the silent heat contained within it.
— This sword…
— Don't touch it — Alexius said immediately, firm.
Kidero didn't like the tone.
But he stopped.
Shirō studied the small figure.
— Is it alive?
Alexius took longer than usual to answer.
— I don't know.
It was a rare answer from him.
And because of that, heavier.
Kazuko exhaled slowly.
— Then that's the worst kind of thing in this place.
Ayame didn't take her eyes off it.
— Something important enough to look beautiful.
Silence deepened.
The entire hall seemed distant in that moment. The other artifacts, the pillars, the crystals, the cold lights—everything withdrew from their perception, as if the world had shrunk to fit only that structure and the sleeping sword within it. Arthur had the clear sensation that if that crystal were to break, something in the balance of that place would shift immediately. Not an explosion. Something subtler. More final.
The small figure did not move.
But all of them felt it.
It was not imagination.
Not suggestion.
There was expectation.
As if the sword were simply waiting for the exact moment—the right touch, the right presence, the right fracture—to awaken.
And standing before it, in silence, with the weight of the ancient hall pressing down around them, they all understood the same thing without needing to say it aloud:
they had not found merely an artifact.
They had found something that could still choose.
And that, more than any blade, any relic, or any power they had seen so far, made it dangerous—because it had not yet decided to fully awaken.