Episode 29
The moment Ethan stepped beyond the second trial's threshold, everything changed.
No more cold stone walls. No more echoes of chains. No system prompts.
Just... silence.
He stood on grass. Fresh dew kissed his boots. A field stretched out before him, impossibly green, vibrant with life. A gentle wind caressed his face, and the scent of lilacs floated through the air. The sun hung high above, warm and golden.
Ethan blinked. "What is this?"
> [System Alert: You have entered Trial Three — The Dream Prison] Objective: Break free from the illusion. Time limit: 24 hours.
He looked down. His armor was gone. The cursed blade was no longer in his hand. Instead, he wore a soft white shirt, linen pants, and his hands were clean. No scars. No blood. No sin marks.
For a moment, he panicked. He checked his wrists. The tattoo of sin that had glowed since Trial One — gone.
> [Warning: System interface disabled temporarily. You must awaken to regain access.]
Ethan scanned the horizon. In the distance, a cottage stood, smoke drifting from its chimney. A path led toward it. The temptation to follow it was immediate, almost magnetic.
He resisted.
Trial. Illusion. Prison.
He clenched his fists. "None of this is real."
But the wind felt real. The sun was warm. The birds chirped.
His legs moved without command. He started walking toward the cottage. Part of him wanted to run in the other direction, but his body didn't listen.
Mind manipulation. A test of will.
He reached the wooden door. It opened before he knocked.
And there she stood.
"Ethan?" said the woman.
It was his mother.
He froze.
She looked exactly as he remembered before the fire—soft eyes, braided hair, apron dusted with flour.
"You're home early," she said, smiling. "I was just making your favorite. Come in, come in."
His throat tightened. A hundred warnings screamed in his head, but his feet stepped forward.
Inside, the cottage was warm, filled with the scent of baked bread and spices. A fire crackled in the hearth. The table was set for three.
Three.
He turned. "Who else is coming?"
"Your sister, of course. And your father."
His heart skipped. "They're dead."
She tilted her head, eyes dimming. "Dead? Don't be silly, Ethan. You must be tired. Come, sit. You'll feel better after dinner."
He sat. The warmth soothed him. The food appeared. Every bite tasted of childhood, safety, memories long buried under blood and pain.
Was it truly a prison?
Could this be heaven?
Then the mirror cracked.
He turned.
Across the room, a tall mirror stood. Its surface shimmered like water, then fractured. A figure stared back at him—not the man at the table, but the warrior from before. Scars. Blood. Rage.
> [Awakening Initiated. Willpower Test Engaged.]
Pain struck his skull. The cottage warped. The walls bled. His mother screamed.
"Don't leave us, Ethan! Don't abandon your family again!"
> [Mental Attack Detected. Corruption: 32%]
Ethan clutched his head. "You're not real. None of this is real."
He staggered up. The food on the table rotted in seconds. Maggots spilled over the bread. The fire turned black.
His mother's face melted.
> [Corruption: 45%]
"Wake up. Wake up!"
He ran toward the mirror. Chains erupted from the floor, lashing around his ankles.
> [Sin Ignition Available. Use now?]
"YES!"
> [Sin Ignition Activated. Mental Purge 1/3 Initiated.]
His body erupted in crimson flame. The chains burned. He crashed through the mirror.
And awoke—in darkness.
Gasping.
Naked, bound in real chains. Surrounded by ten shadowy figures whispering in tongues.
> [Dream Prison Phase Two: The Waking Loop]
The ground pulsed like a heartbeat. A low hum filled the air, vibrating through Ethan's bones.
He looked up. The shadows surrounding him were not truly figures—they were thoughts. Regrets. Embodiments of failure.
One stepped closer. It took the form of Althea.
"You let me die," it whispered.
"No," Ethan growled. "You're not her."
"You watched. You let it happen. You could've saved me."
He struggled. The chains held firm.
> [System Interface Locked: Emotional Anchor Detected]
Another figure approached. A child—his younger self, eyes wide, blood on his hands.
"I just wanted to be strong."
Ethan's breathing quickened. "Stop this. Stop it!"
> [Corruption: 56%]
The shadows chanted. Their words grew louder, forming a circle of guilt around him.
> [Trial Modifier: Dream Echoes Activated]
"You'll never escape." "You belong here." "You are the sin."
Ethan closed his eyes. He searched for something—anything. A memory that mattered.
Then… he saw her.
Lira.
Her laughter. Her stubborn courage. Her refusal to abandon him, even when he pushed her away.
He focused on that.
The chant dulled.
He visualized her hand in his. Her eyes looking into his. Her trust.
> [Emotional Anchor Overridden: Hope] [System Interface Reconnecting...]
A pulse of white light burst outward.
The shadows screamed. The chains shattered.
> [Sin Surge: Recalibrated] [Mental Purge 2/3 Successful]
Ethan dropped to his knees, breathing hard.
The dream cracked again. The floor split.
He fell.
And landed in a courtroom.
Dozens of judges watched from high thrones. Each one wore his face.
> [Dream Prison Phase Three: The Trial of the Self]
"You stand accused of every choice, every death, every sin," said one of the Ethans.
"I did what I had to," Ethan said.
"Did you? Or did you choose the path that made you feel powerful?"
Images flared. The girl in the alley he failed to save. The soldier he executed. The prisoner he tortured for information.
> [Self-Reflection Challenge Initiated. Failure resets trial.]
"I know who I am!" Ethan roared.
"Then face it."
The real Ethan walked forward.
"I won't run from my past," he said. "But I won't let it define me."
> [Truth Accepted. Self-Awareness +5] [Mental Purge 3/3 Complete. Dream Prison Integrity Crumbling.]
The courtroom shattered.
The ground vanished.
He floated in light.
> [System Restored. Dream Prison Trial Cleared.]
> Rewards:
Memory Anchor: Lira's Blessing
Skill Unlocked: Mind Fortress (Mental Resistance +80%)
Trait: Unbreakable Will
> [Trials of Sin: 3/4 Complete]
He opened his eyes.
Back in the real world.
Sweating.
Alive.
And more dangerous than ever.
To be continued...