The forest was a damp, tight corridor of green shadows. Indra followed Alexia, feeling every aching muscle from his recent fight with the Rift Hound. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind only exhaustion and the sharp memory of pain. Alexia's immaculate robe danced ahead of him, a constant reminder of how out of place he was.
"Still dragging your feet?" Her voice cut through the air without her bothering to turn her head. "You sound like a drunk gnome trying to flee a debt. Your very existence is an invitation to chaos."
It was the tenth insult in maybe fifteen minutes. Indra swallowed his annoyance, focusing on not tripping. But something inside him—a stubborn ember of pride that not even fear could extinguish—began to glow. He was tired of being her verbal punching bag.
"At least." he retorted, his voice rougher than intended, "I don't need to hide behind a family name and a fancy robe to feel important."
The silence that followed was so abrupt and complete that the sounds of the forest seemed to be swallowed by it. Alexia stopped. Not abruptly, but with a precision that was frightening. She turned slowly, and her blue eyes, cold as glaciers, met his.
Indra felt a chill run down his spine. Idiot. Total idiot. He'd crossed a line he didn't understand, challenging a predator who could crush him with a thought.
She didn't raise her voice. Didn't frown. She just watched him for a long second, her face a mask of perfect impassivity. Then, a single sound escaped her lips.
"Hmph."
She turned and continued walking, as if he were a fly that had stopped buzzing. But Indra saw. Before she turned, he saw a tiny, almost imperceptible spark in those icy eyes. Not anger. It was... interest. The cold assessment of a scientist who'd found a new, particularly bold strain of virus. She thought he had courage. Or maybe just monumental stupidity.
The relief was so intense his legs nearly buckled. He followed her, his heart still hammering against his ribs.
It didn't take long for the environment to change. The air grew colder and heavier, laden with the moisture of a nearby body of water. Soon, they reached the bank of a river. But it wasn't a river of water. It was a slow, snaking flow of white, milky mist, so dense it seemed solid. Its surface was hypnotic and disturbing; the reflections of the trees in the mist moved with a distinct delay, as if time on the other side was a second in the past.
"Mist River." Alexia announced, her voice flat. "A temporal barrier. Crossing without protection will—"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Shapes emerged from the mist, silent and sudden. They were creatures made of the river's very substance, with nebulous bodies and claws that condensed the mist into sharp, cold blades. Their eyes were empty holes in the whiteness. Mist Beasts. Atrocious Dormants.
There was no time for strategy. Alexia moved.
It was a spectacle of efficient violence. Her dagger appeared in her hand as if by magic. She didn't make wide swings; they were precise stabs, each hitting a glowing, pulsating weak point in the center of each beast's chest. Stacc, stacc, stacc, stacc, stacc. Five Mist Beasts dissolved into vapor before Indra could even draw his Jian. The air smelled of ozone and frozen damp.
A sixth beast, the last of the group, charged at her. Alexia, with a movement bordering on disdain, sidestepped with a slight lean of her body and, with the palm of her free hand, shoved the creature toward Indra.
"Deal with it." she ordered, her voice as calm as if she'd asked him to carry her groceries.
The Mist Beast regained its balance and roared, a muffled, wet sound, before lunging at Indra. He raised his Jian, his heart racing. The creature was slower than the Rift Hound, but its nebulous body made its attacks unpredictable. A claw of solid mist grazed his face, leaving a cold streak on his skin.
He retreated, taking a deep breath. The movements from the cave came to his mind. His feet settled, finding balance. His blade traced an arc, cutting through the beast's misty arm. The creature recoiled but charged again. Indra advanced, his blade piercing the center of the nebulous mass. The beast convulsed and exploded into a harmless blur of mist, leaving behind a small ice core.
Indra stood, panting. The fight had been short but intense. He felt a stab of pride. He had handled it.
Alexia wasn't even looking at him. She had already collected the cores from the other beasts. "Another ten points for you. Thirty-six total. It's nothing, but it's more than zero." she said, emotionless. "I get fifty. One hundred ninety-nine for me. Now, can we proceed?"
She turned to the river and raised her hand. "Crossing requires a temporal anchor. Stay still and don't breathe out of rhythm."
Her Divine Power glowed, golden and warm, forming a complex seal in the air that enveloped them both. "Threshold Blessing. Lasts thirty seconds."
They stepped into the mist. It was a viscerally disorienting experience. The outside world became a blur of distorted colors and sounds. Indra felt his stomach churn, as if he were falling from a great height. He focused fiercely on the breathing pattern he'd practiced, feeling the warmth of Alexia's seal like a beacon in the sensory chaos.
It was then that he saw it. On the opposite bank, the mist seemed to condense, forming a vast, undefined silhouette. In its center, a single gigantic, glowing lens materialized. A Mist Watcher. A Great Dormant.
His blood seemed to freeze. He looked at Alexia. Her eyes were fixed ahead. She had seen it. Her expression wasn't fear or tension, but pure boredom. She examined the creature for a fraction of a second with the disinterest of someone seeing a particularly large mosquito, then completely ignored it, maintaining focus on the seal. To her, it was insignificant.
They emerged on the other side. Alexia was pale, a thin layer of sweat on her brow—the cost of maintaining the seal. "I didn't waste power on you. I invested it so you wouldn't slow me down." she said, echoing her earlier words, but this time sounding as if she were trying to convince herself.
Indra was about to ask about the thing in the mist when his question died on his lips. Ahead of them wasn't the Intermediate Layer, but a wall.
It was a towering barrier of intertwined roots, forming a massive arch. On its surface, engraved in pale metal, were glyphs. Complex, fluid patterns that glowed with a faint light.
Indra approached, his heart racing again, but for a different reason. He knew those patterns. They weren't identical, but the language was the same. The fluidity, the way the lines intertwined and broke… it was the dance frozen into writing.
"Wait…" he whispered, almost involuntarily. "I know this."
Alexia stood beside him, watching him, not the wall. Her silence was more eloquent than any insult.
Indra reached out, not to touch, but to trace the patterns in the air. His body remembered before his mind did. The movements he'd practiced in the cave echoed in his muscles.
"It's a lock." he said, the revelation dawning on him. "And the Dance… the Dance is the key."
He positioned himself before the arch and began to move.
His body executed the five movements he knew, one after the other, with a fluidity that surprised even him. As each movement was performed, the corresponding glyph on the wall glowed intensely. And with each glow, a flash of knowledge and vision struck Indra's mind:
As he executed the basic stance, his feet settled on the earth, firm and rooted. A spiral glyph shone. The name "Dew Step" echoed in his thoughts, not as a memory, but as a sudden, absolute truth. He saw, for a microsecond, the image of a graceful High Elf stepping on dew without disturbing it.
The perfect diagonal cut made a glyph of broken lines shine. "Lion's Contained Roar." A fleeting vision of an Elven warrior delivering the same strike against the shadow of an ancient demon.
The quick, precise thrust illuminated a long, sharp glyph. "Scarring Thrust." The smell of iron and strange flowers filled his nostrils—a memory that wasn't his.
His guard lowered and rose, the blade disappearing and reappearing at a new angle, defending a point that wasn't under threat. Making the blade vanish and reappear ignited a glyph of opposing mirrors. "Candle and Shadow." He felt the chill of an Elven stone dungeon and heard a whisper in a musical, unknown language.
The final circular counterattack completed the sequence. An unfolding spiral glyph exploded in light. "Stinger's Return." And then, as a final gift upon completing the fifth movement, a wave of knowledge exploded in his mind. The name of the sixth movement emerged, clear and inaccessible as a star: Veil Vortex. He sensed its function—an impossible transition, a spiral of energy that would demand a level of control he didn't yet possess. But now he knew. The first set of six was complete in his mind, if not in his body.
As the names echoed in his head, the Living Wall responded. Each glyph that had glowed now burned with the light of a full moon. With a low, deep groan, like ancient wood yielding, the arch of roots began to open, the roots retracting to the sides like curtains being drawn, revealing a passage to what lay beyond.
Alexia didn't say a word. He turned to look at her. She was standing, absolutely still, her eyes fixed on him. There was no more arrogance, no boredom, not even the usual disdain. There was only pure, intense, inscrutable analysis. She had seen everything. Heard every name he'd whispered. And that information was filed away behind those blue eyes, labeled and stored for future use. She asked no questions. Questions were for those who didn't pay attention.
The passage would remain open for twenty seconds. They exchanged one last look and then, in silent agreement, stepped through.
On the other side, the world had changed again.
They were in the Intermediate Layer.
The air was different. Heavier, older, charged with a chaotic energy that tingled on the skin. Colossal trees, so tall their canopies were lost in a high, silver mist, formed a natural cathedral. Translucent lianas hung like its stained-glass windows, and phosphorescent pollen floated in the air, creating an ethereal and dangerous dreamscape. It was terrifyingly beautiful.
A deep BONG echoed, vibrating through the ground. A Stone Chime somewhere in the distance. It sounded again, then once more. It was just ambient noise, constant and rhythmic, like a heartbeat. It carried no warning, no omen. It was just part of this place.
As they took in the view, a colossal silhouette moved in the distance. A massive stag, over four meters tall, moved slowly. Its black coat shimmered under the bluish light, and spectral antlers rose like roots of crystal. Each step made the ground vibrate slightly, and its red eyes burned like coals.
The Shade Stag raised its head, letting out a deep bellow that reverberated through the trees. It wasn't deafening. It wasn't an apocalyptic roar. But it had weight. It had threat.
Alexia crossed her arms, watching it with the calm of someone assessing an exotic animal. "Nothing special. A few heirs might want to contest this prey."
Indra nearly laughed nervously. To her, it was "nothing special." To him, the mere presence of the monster was suffocating.
Alexia followed his gaze. "Don't worry." she said, her tone now bored, almost sleepy. "He's hunting things more interesting than us. As long as you don't run around screaming for attention, he's mobile decoration."
She didn't give the creature another glance, starting to walk along the edge of the clearing as if she were strolling through a slightly exotic park.
Indra stayed behind for a moment, watching the Shade Stag disappear among the giant trees, that rhythmic bong of the chimes echoing in his bones. He then ran to catch up with Alexia, the only anchor in a sea of incomprehensible beauty and danger. The real challenge, he suspected, hadn't even begun.