Chapter 14
As they crossed the third gate, Jon and Victor rushed forward. The bridge was now more unstable than ever, trembling violently as if it would collapse at any moment. They carefully balanced themselves, moving ahead cautiously, while below them, molten lava raged. The scorching flames rose so high that they even surpassed the bridge, and the bubbling embers sent waves of heat through the air, making their skin burn.
Both Jon and Victor took a sigh of relief when they noticed that, for the first time, no shadow was floating in the air. At the previous gates, they had been haunted by eerie illusions, but here, there was nothing—just silence and fire.
But suddenly, Victor heard a familiar voice echo in his ears— "Victor, how could you forget me?"
Victor froze. His breath quickened as he immediately turned toward Jon.
"Jon, I can hear Alina's voice again!" Victor said, panic in his voice.
Jon quickly tried to reason with him, "Victor, this is all an illusion! We cannot fall for it. We must reach the fourth gate and solve the riddle. These voices are only meant to stop us!"
Both of them started moving forward again, but suddenly, Victor stopped in his tracks. His body stiffened, and his eyes slowly closed, as if he was being hypnotized. A strange calmness took over his face, and then, his lips parted to whisper one final word— "Alina..."
Jon was stunned. He had no idea what had just happened to Victor.
And then, Jon himself heard a familiar voice— "Jon, where are you going?"
Startled, Jon spun around—and what he saw made his eyes widen in shock.
Standing on the bridge before him was his entire family—his mother, his father, his younger brother, and sister. They were all looking at him as if they had been waiting for him.
A sudden blinding light enveloped Jon's vision. Everything around him blurred, and he felt as if he was being transported somewhere else.
Moments later, when Jon opened his eyes, he found himself standing outside his old home.
His mother smiled and said, "Son, along with your sword training, you should also help your father with his work. He needs your support in his business."
Jon stood frozen. What was happening? Where was he? But seeing his family in front of him filled his heart with a strange warmth. His eyes welled up with emotion.
"Yes, mother," he replied softly, as he looked around.
The familiar sight of lush green trees, the comforting walls of his childhood home, and beside it, his father's old sweet shop—it all felt so real.
Jon felt an overwhelming sense of happiness as he stepped into his father's sweet shop. The warm aroma of freshly made sweets filled the air, and his heart swelled with nostalgia. With a wide smile, he started helping his father, handing out sweets to the eager customers.
But as he worked, a strange realization dawned upon him—why was the shop so crowded? He had seen many festivals in his village, but never had he witnessed such a rush, even during the busiest celebrations. The line of customers seemed endless, their faces blurred and unfamiliar.
Still, he ignored the thought and focused on his work. After all, he was home, and nothing else mattered.
At noon, his father closed the shop, and they all returned home for lunch. As Jon stepped inside, his younger brother and sister—both around 7 to 8 years old—ran up to him, laughing joyfully. He bent down, ruffling their hair, but an odd thought crept into his mind.
"Weren't they supposed to be older? Or… was I the one who had grown up?"
His mother lovingly urged him to sit down and eat. Confused yet comforted, Jon settled on the woven mat, where a delicious meal awaited him—his favorite dishes, perfectly cooked. For a moment, he forgot his worries and indulged in the warmth of his family. The food tasted just like he remembered, every bite filling him with a sense of peace.
Laughter echoed around the table as they shared stories, and for the first time in a long while, Jon felt truly at ease.
As they finished eating, his father spoke in a gentle tone, "We won't be opening the shop again today. You should rest at home."
Jon nodded absentmindedly, still lost in the comfort of his surroundings.
But then, his little brother's innocent voice broke the moment—"Big brother, show us your sword skills!"
Jon chuckled and pulled his little brother into a hug. "Come on, let's go outside. I'll show you right now!"
Excited, his siblings cheered as they rushed into the courtyard, their laughter filling the air. Jon followed, his heart light.
Stepping onto the soft earth, Jon reached for his sword, pulling it from its sheath. The moment the blade caught the sunlight, his breath hitched.
The sword was unlike any he had ever owned—its hilt adorned with glittering diamonds and precious stones, its blade shimmering with an almost divine glow.
A sudden chill ran down his spine.
"Wait… my father always gave me wooden swords to practice with. Then how did I get such a valuable weapon?"
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a flood of memories rushed back. The fiery bridge… Victor calling out for Alina… the monstrous trials they had faced…
And then, the final realization struck him like lightning—this sword belonged to Dipendra.
His surroundings trembled. The warm afternoon light flickered like a dying flame. The once familiar voices of his family grew distant, distorted.
Jon's eyes widened as he finally understood—
This was all an illusion.
Jon realizes that he is trapped in a dream or an illusion. He closes his eyes, trying to calm himself, but when he opens them again, everything remains the same. His parents, his younger brother, and his sister stand before him, their faces radiating the same love and warmth he had felt in his childhood.
Jon looks at his younger siblings, giving a faint smile, and softly says, "I wish you were alive today… You would have been proud to see that I have become a powerful swordsman. But..."
His sister quickly interrupts, "But what, brother?" Her innocent eyes were filled with curiosity, as if she truly wanted to know.
Jon looked at her, but this time, doubt crept into his mind. This was a dream… but why did it feel so real? His sister's innocent voice, his mother's concern, his father's stern expression—everything felt so genuine that, for a moment, he questioned himself.
But then, his eyes fell on his sword. It was the same sword that Dipendra had given him. This sword was his connection to reality. He noticed that the sword had no dust on it, while his village, his house, and even his father's shop looked slightly old and worn.
"If this were real, my sword would have aged too… but it still shines."
Now, Jon was certain that this was an illusion. But the real question was—how would he escape from it?