The fortress was older than memory.
Carved into the cliffs like a jagged wound, its outer walls slumped in on themselves. Moss clung to black stone, and vines strangled old banners long faded to grey. No guards. No footprints. Only silence—and a sense that the land itself recoiled from the structure.
Baek Sun-Ho stood before the crumbled gate with his party behind him.
"It doesn't match Murim architecture," Yul-Rin murmured, running fingers along a stone tile. "Too cold. Too precise."
"Not built for people," Master Jang said, "but to keep something in."
So-Ri's fan hovered open in her hand. "Dan-Gi was right. The qi here… it feels fractured. Like something's trying to rebuild itself."
"Or escape," Ji-Mun added, voice low. "I vote we turn around."
"No one's stopping you," Ma-Rok muttered, eyes forward. "But I'm not leaving without knowing what's inside."
Yeon stood silently beside Sun-Ho. The boy's brows were furrowed in concentration, his fingers tracing symbols into the frost-covered ground.
"They sealed something here," Yeon said finally, his voice quiet and strained. "A long time ago. The key isn't physical—it's emotional."
Sun-Ho turned to him. "Explain."
Yeon pointed toward the gate. "Pain. Memory. Regret. The gate responds to echoes of the past."
The moment the words left his mouth, a ripple of qi shivered through the air—and the great stone doors groaned, creeeak, shifting open just enough to let one person through.
Everyone froze.
Ji-Mun was the first to speak. "That's not creepy at all. Totally fine. Very welcoming."
So-Ri stepped forward. "Sun-Ho, what do we do?"
He stared at the gate, then exhaled. "Only one path forward. I'll go alone."
Ma-Rok shook his head. "Why is it always you?"
"Because I'm the one it responded to."
Master Jang sipped tea and said nothing. But his eyes were sharp.
So-Ri placed a hand on Sun-Ho's arm. "You'll come back."
"I will," he said. "But I might not come back the same."
She didn't answer, but her grip tightened for a breath longer than needed before letting go.
---
Inside the Gate
The moment Sun-Ho stepped through, the air changed.
No more wind. No more cold.
Only heat. Oppressive, ancient, and full of sorrow.
He stepped into a wide hall, its walls lined with unlit torches and faded murals. At the center stood a single brazier—unlit but still warm. It pulsed faintly, as though waiting.
Then a voice—thin, genderless, like wind scraping bone—echoed from the walls.
> "You walk the road of the Forgotten. Why?"
Sun-Ho didn't flinch. "To remember."
> "What do you seek?"
"Balance."
> "Then show us the moment you lost it."
Before he could react, the floor beneath him shifted.
And memory swallowed him whole.
---
Vision – A Past Life's Reckoning
He stood in a ruined courtyard, the sky dark with smoke.
Bodies littered the ground—friend and foe alike. At the center was a younger version of himself, sword drawn, breathing heavy. Flames danced at his feet.
Across from him knelt a girl.
Not So-Ri.
But familiar.
A memory. A regret.
"You could have spared her," the voice said, echoing around him.
Sun-Ho's past self lifted his blade.
"No," Sun-Ho whispered. "Not again."
The memory wavered. The blade fell in silence. A flicker of guilt crossed his face.
> "You destroyed her because you feared what she might become."
The illusion turned toward him. The girl stood again—eyes glowing like dying stars.
> "Will you destroy again, Sovereign of Balance?"
Sun-Ho stepped forward, his hand outstretched.
"I won't destroy what I don't understand."
The vision cracked—light searing through the air like lightning splitting a night sky.
The brazier in the hall burst to life.
Fire and lightning together.
The second fusion.
The third path opened.
---
Outside
The group waited, breath tight.
Then—
KRAK-KZZZT.
A bolt of lightning burst from the gate, splitting upward into the clouds. Firelight followed, shimmering across the cracks in the walls.
The doors shuddered, then opened wider.
Sun-Ho stepped out, eyes glowing faintly, his robes singed at the edges.
Yeon stepped forward. "You found it."
Sun-Ho nodded. "Yes. The gate wasn't guarding a power. It was guarding a truth."
Ji-Mun scratched his head. "Care to explain in non-cultivator terms?"
"Later," So-Ri said. "He needs to rest."
"No," Sun-Ho said. "We need to move. That wasn't the only sealed ruin. And if I opened this one…"
Yul-Rin finished the thought: "Someone else might open the others."
Master Jang finally spoke, setting down his tea. "Then let the hunt begin."
---
Bonus Scene – Ji-Mun's Last Will and (Repeated) Testament
The sky still buzzed faintly from the lightning strike. Everyone stood in stunned silence.
Everyone except Ji-Mun, who was crouched by a rock, scribbling furiously into a notebook.
Yul-Rin peeked over his shoulder. "What… are you doing?"
"Updating my will," he said solemnly. "If Sun-Ho doesn't return as himself, I'm invoking Ji-Mun Clause Seventeen."
So-Ri blinked. "Clause… what?"
"Seventeen," Ji-Mun repeated. "If our leader returns possessed, corrupted, or glowing red eyes while reciting ancient proverbs—he's to be immediately restrained and buried in soft dirt until further evaluation."
Ma-Rok scratched his beard. "Why soft dirt?"
"In case he snaps out of it. Hard dirt's harder to escape from. I'm compassionate like that."
Yul-Rin sighed. "You do realize he's probably evolving right now and not possessed, right?"
"Exactly what a possessed person would want us to think!" Ji-Mun turned to Yeon, who was poking at a beetle on the ground. "If I get taken out first, you carry on my legacy. Open a noodle stall. Name it Ji-Mun's Almost Famous Soup."
Yeon held up a sign: Soup tastes better when you're quiet.
Ma-Rok nodded approvingly. "He's learning."
So-Ri shook her head, barely hiding a smile. "If Sun-Ho hears you wrote him off that fast, he might actually set your eyebrows on fire."
"That's why I wrote a second will for that outcome," Ji-Mun said, flipping the page. "Clause Twenty-One: If leader returns insulted but sane, distract with heartfelt apology and offer of spicy snacks."
"…You wrote all that in the last minute?" Yul-Rin asked.
Ji-Mun grinned. "I'm fast when terrified."
Right then, a gust of wind stirred the leaves—and Sun-Ho stepped out of the gate, eyes glowing faintly, calm as a mountain lake.
Ji-Mun quickly ripped out the page labeled "Seventeen" and stuffed it into his tunic.
"Ah! Leader! You look great! Glowing. Heroic. I never doubted you for a second."
Sun-Ho tilted his head. "Did I hear something about soft dirt?"
"Nope. Must've been the thunder," Ji-Mun said, deadpan.
Yeon held up a second sign: Clause Seventeen is real.
Sun-Ho raised an eyebrow.
Ji-Mun coughed. "Traitorous little artist."
---
End of Chapter 104 – The Forgotten Gate