As the group stepped out of the mirror corridor, the silver mist vanished, replaced by an endless garden of white pillars and floating, glowing flora. At the center of this sanctuary stood a woman who radiated a presence so calm it physically forced Techyon's racing heart to slow down.
She was the Arcon of Life.
"Manners, Techyon," Neweland whispered, bowing his head deeply. "You are in the presence of the one who wove the first thread of your soul."
The Arcon of Life turned. Her eyes were like emerald suns, holding a depth of wisdom that made Lapis's "Soul Rebuilding" look like a child's toy. She placed a hand over her heart, her expression one of gentle sorrow and immense power.
"Neweland," she spoke, her voice echoing not in their ears, but in their very DNA. "You bring the boy of the Sign. And the one who touched the Vermilion. You are late."
Techyon was speechless. He felt a strange warmth radiating from the markings on her skin—a resonance with his own power.
"I had to ensure they could survive the truth," Neweland replied, rising. "Barkan is dead. The seal on the High Complex Multiverse is thinning. They need to know about the Great Betrayal."
The Arcon of Life walked toward Techyon. Every step she took caused flowers to bloom and wither in a perfect cycle beneath her feet. She stopped inches from him, looking into his eyes.
"Techyon," she said softly. "You carry the blood of Arax... but you also carry the curse of the Arcons. Do you know why the Monarchs hate us so much?"
Behind a white pillar, the Yellow-Haired Woman watched, her golden eyes reflecting the scene. Even she seemed to hold her breath in the presence of the Life Arcon.
While the Arcon of Life's garden remained a sanctuary of quiet truth, the physical world was screaming.
Deep in the heart of the Northern Abyss, a siren blared that hadn't been heard in a century. The air turned heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and ancient decay. A jagged rift tore through the sky, pulsing with a violet light that swallowed the sun.
[WARNING: S+ RANK DUNGEON DETECTED]
Within minutes, the "Eclipsed Vanguard," the highest-rated S-rank party in the region, arrived at the mouth of the rift. Their leader, a man clad in titanium-weave armor, gripped his broadsword.
"Stay sharp," he commanded, his voice muffled by his helm. "S+ means the environment itself is trying to kill us. Mana shields up!"
They descended through layers of shifting obsidian and frozen lightning. But they didn't find the usual swarm of monsters. Instead, they reached a massive, silent chamber made of a material that didn't exist on any periodic table.
In the center of the chamber stood a colossal gate. It wasn't a dungeon boss room; it was a Prison Gate, wrapped in chains made of condensed gravity and carved with seals that looked like the Arcon of Life's own markings—but blackened and cracked.
"Is this the boss?" the party's mage whispered, her hands trembling as her mana-meter glitched out. "I can't read its level. It just says... Infinite."
The leader looked at the heavy iron latch. "If we clear this, we become legends. On three. One... two... three!"
With a collective heave, the S-rank party threw their weight against the gate. The seals shattered. The gravity chains dissolved into ash.
As the gate creaked open, a cold, silent wind blew out from the darkness—a wind that didn't just chill their skin, but felt like it was erasing their very memories. The leader looked into the void beyond the gate, and for the first time in his life, he dropped his sword.