Lucien watched as Elara continued to sob, tears streaming down her face, making her look more vulnerable than usual. Her shoulders trembled, and every choked sob that escaped her lips reflected her deep disappointment. Yet, Lucien didn't avert his gaze.
He took a slow breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs. This wasn't the reaction he had expected from Elara, but perhaps it was better for her to release her emotions now. Rather than bottling them up and having them explode at a far worse moment, it was safer for her to let them out here—while they still had control over the situation.
As time passed, her crying gradually softened. The overwhelming frustration that had clouded her mind seemed to fade, allowing her thoughts to clear, if only a little.
"If you're done, we need to move on," Lucien said, his voice calm yet firm. "We've already wasted too much time here," he continued, his gaze fixed ahead.
Elara peeked through her fingers, her hands still damp with tears. Her eyes burned with lingering anger. She hadn't forgotten Lucien's words—if anything, she resented him even more for them. To her, someone weaker than her had no right to talk as if he were superior. Yet, his arrogance and composed demeanor made him seem more in control.
Her sobs had stopped, leaving only quiet sniffles.
Lucien could tell she was regaining control over herself. The rage that had once been explosive was now more focused. This was an opportunity he couldn't let slip.
"Don't waste your mana so recklessly," he added, his tone lighter but still unwavering. "We're still in this labyrinth, and our hunt is far from over. We've only secured one Spirit Core—that's not even enough to keep us from falling to last place."
Elara didn't reply. She only stared at Lucien, her reddened eyes sharp with emotion.
Now that her mind was clearer, she was starting to realize something. No matter how painful Lucien's words had been, there was truth in them. She had been too reckless in their previous fight. Panic had driven her actions, causing her to act without thinking, which led to her being trapped in the Ice Wolf's frost. She should have relied on her teammates to free her, but instead, she had wasted her mana unnecessarily. Even her final attack—though effective—had used far more mana than necessary.
Victor, who had been silently observing, finally smiled. "We've already secured one. I doubt finding more will be that difficult," he said. "Besides, we still need to find our way out."
Lucien glanced around. The corridor was wide, splitting into a darker path ahead, while the faintly glowing stones behind them were beginning to dim. He took a deep breath before speaking.
"We're waiting on your decision," he said nonchalantly.
Even though Lucien wasn't looking directly at her, Elara knew those words were meant for her.
"After this exam, I'm going to beat you up," she muttered, her voice still hoarse from crying.
Lucien raised an eyebrow. That was a lighter response than he had expected. He had braced himself for a lengthy argument, perhaps even another heated confrontation, but it seemed that Elara was still focused on the exam.
"Fine by me," he replied indifferently.
Victor simply watched their exchange with a small grin.
Accepting that she had made mistakes, Elara resumed her role as the team leader. Lucien could have taken over, but he chose not to. He wanted to see how much she would grow after this incident.
They moved deeper into the labyrinth, leaving their previous path behind. The further they went, the darker it became. The glow from the stones was now barely visible compared to before.
"We're getting further from the outpost," Lucien muttered, breaking the silence.
"Our priority is collecting as many Spirit Cores as possible," Victor responded. "We can worry about finding a way out later."
After their encounter with the Ice Wolf, they began encountering Lesser Spirits more frequently. Naturally, the deeper they went, the stronger these creatures became. However, with improved coordination and a more cautious Elara, their battles became more controlled.
So far, they had taken down eight Lesser Spirits. Three Ice Wolves, three Small Golems, one Venomfang Serpent, and their strongest opponent yet—a Spectral Wraith.
At this point, they had reached a deeper section of the labyrinth.
After collecting the Spirit Core from the Spectral Wraith, they decided to rest for a moment.
The chamber they were in was more spacious than the previous corridors, with glowing stones providing dim illumination.
"Eight Cores so far," Victor noted.
Lucien, seated on the ground with his back against the cold stone wall, watched as Elara stood near the Spectral Wraith's lifeless form. She hadn't spoken much since their last battle, but her movements were now sharper and more precise.
Lucien let out a quiet sigh. "I'd say that's not bad," he remarked. Considering their rough start, this was a much better outcome than he had expected. Without Elara, they likely wouldn't have made it this far.
But just as the silence was beginning to settle—
Whisper.
Whisper.
A strange sound drifted through the air. A faint whisper, eerie and unsettling, sent shivers down their spines. It wasn't the rustling of wind or the echo of the tunnels. No, it was something far more sinister—like the voice of someone whispering right next to their ears.
Lucien immediately lifted his head. There were only two paths: one leading back the way they came and another, a narrow passage ahead shrouded in darkness.
"Runevele," Lucien murmured, glancing at Victor.
"I know," Victor responded quickly, his expression turning serious.
Elara had already unsheathed her sword again.
Whisper.
The whispers grew louder, more insistent, yet still unintelligible. The voices were soft yet grating, as if they belonged to something that shouldn't exist in this place.
The glow from the surrounding stones trembled, casting flickering shadows along the walls. The atmosphere grew heavier, more oppressive.
Lucien slowly rose to his feet, his senses sharpening. He couldn't detect any physical presence, but the chilling air creeping over his skin told him otherwise. This wasn't just residual energy from their previous battle—this was something else entirely.
From within the narrow, shadowed corridor ahead, a pair of eyes suddenly opened. Crimson eyes, their pupils marked with faint, swirling patterns—each roughly the size of a human head.
One by one, more eyes began to appear.
From the tunnel, from the cracks in the walls, from the ceiling—they were all staring directly at Lucien and his team.
Lucien's gaze locked onto one of the eyes, as if an unseen force compelled him to stare back.
He couldn't move his eyes away, as though invisible chains held them in place. Even blinking was no longer an option.
Whisper.
The whispers grew more intense, now resembling a harsh, grating noise that scraped against his sanity. A slow, searing rage bubbled within him, as if something inside his mind was stoking the fire of his emotions.
"It's draining my mana..." he murmured.
With every passing second, his mana was being sapped away. The thin barrier between his rational mind and the storm of emotions within him was starting to crumble. Heat and frustration crept through his body, threatening to consume his awareness entirely.
"This is bad... This isn't just a normal attack. This is the work of a Spirit... and maybe stronger than any we've faced before. It's not just draining mana—it's stirring my emotions, trying to make me lose control, to let my anger blind me. But is this really the work of a Lesser Spirit? Or is this another test set by the academy, like the trap that shifted the path earlier?"
Lucien's thoughts raced, trying to analyze the situation before he lost himself completely. If this Spirit continued to drain him, he'd be left without mana—and worse, without his sanity. Something had to be done. Now.
Even with his body locked in place, Lucien refused to panic. Fear would only hasten his downfall. With sheer willpower, he clenched his fingers, gathering what remained of his energy and concentrating his mana into his left hand. He forced it out of his body, hoping to sever the Spirit's hold on him.
In an instant, a soft blue glow flickered in his palm, forming a hammer that looked like it was made of shimmering fragments of light. It was his Ethereal Sigil Hammer—an incomplete weapon, still unstable. By channeling all of his remaining mana into it, his reserves depleted even faster—but one thing was certain: the Spirit's grip on him was weakening.
His mind wavered. His vision blurred, tinted red, distorted shapes flickering at the edges. Consciousness threatened to slip away. But at the same time, he realized something—
The Spirit could no longer drain his mana.
"I just need to hold on a little longer..."
Every second stretched into eternity. His pupils nearly rolled back, his body swayed, and his breath grew ragged. Then, at the critical moment—
The connection snapped.
The crimson eyes that had ensnared him suddenly shifted, their focus breaking away. Without hesitation, Lucien let go of his concentrated mana, allowing the sigil hammer to dissipate back into pure energy. His body staggered, his lungs gasping for air, as if he had just been yanked back from the brink of death.
His mind was clear again, but the cost was steep. His remaining mana was barely ten percent. His limbs felt sluggish, his breath uneven. But it wasn't over yet.
Lucien shut his eyes tightly. If the Spirit's power worked through direct eye contact, then avoiding it was the key. Instead, he redirected his mana into sharpening his other senses—especially his hearing.
"Just as I thought... Without direct sight, its attack won't affect me!"
His confidence solidified as his breathing steadied. His chest still rose and fell heavily, but his mind had regained control. Now, relying solely on his ears, he listened intently.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A heartbeat.
Three different heartbeats, echoing in the space around him. But two of them were faint, while one remained steady.
"This isn't just any Lesser Spirit... I've read about this creature before. A Spirit that can't attack physically but dominates the mind through its gaze."
If it wasn't a Greater Spirit or something beyond, then the answer was clear—
"Phantom Eye."
A Lesser Spirit—one of the most dangerous yet also one of the most fragile. Dangerous because once it locked eyes with its prey, escape was nearly impossible. But fragile because it lacked physical attacks and had little defense.
Now that his mind was free, Lucien knew victory was within reach.
Whisper.
The eerie murmur continued, slithering through the air, unsettling but no longer threatening. Lucien ignored it. He reached for his bow, drawing an arrow and aiming toward the source of the sound.
Swish! Thud!
One down.
He shifted his aim.
Swish! Thud!
Another fell.
He adjusted again.
Swish! Thud!
A third collapsed.
Lucien listened closely. The three heartbeats he had detected earlier—one of them suddenly changed. It quickened for a moment, then steadied.
A harsh cough echoed in the room.
Victor collapsed to the ground. His eyes, still tinged with red, slowly returned to normal. He was free.
But one heartbeat remained dangerously slow. Slower than before.
Thump…
Lucien clenched his jaw.
That heartbeat belonged to Elara.
He moved swiftly, reaching behind him for another arrow—
Empty.
Lucien exhaled sharply. "Oh… I'm out of arrows."
Lifting his head, he tuned his hearing again. Then, he spoke in a low but commanding voice.
"Runevele, are you there?"
Silence. But he knew his teammate could hear him.
"If you're awake, don't open your eyes. Use your hearing like I did. Help me kill the remaining Phantom Eyes. There are too many. If we fail to finish them in time..."
His voice dropped.
"Elara Moonveil might not make it."