The silence after the battle felt heavier than the creature's roars. The pollen still fell in glowing veils, but now, to Indra, it was as if each particle danced to a rhythm he could almost follow.
He sat on a thick root, his chest rising and falling. His muscles trembled with echoes of the Dance—as if every fiber of his body was trying to repeat the movements on its own.
Alexia, a few steps away, calmly cleaned her dagger, in no hurry at all. The tip of her shoe nudged the freshly harvested core, assessing its glow. Only then did she speak:
"Where did you learn those names?"
Indra raised his head, surprised. "What names?"
She finally looked at him. The cold weight of her blue eyes pierced him like a blade. "'Lion's Contained Roar.' 'Dew Step.' Don't tell me you made them up in the heat of the moment."
Indra hesitated. Part of him wanted to lie; another part knew it would be useless. Alexia wasn't someone easily fooled.
"I… saw them." he said, his voice low. "On the Living Wall. When I performed the Dance. It was as if the movements had names. Not… memories, maybe. Not mine."
A faint, almost inaudible gasp escaped Alexia. It wasn't surprise; it was calculation. She was studying him.
"Borrowed memories." she murmured. "Interesting."
She sat facing him, crossing her legs with controlled elegance, as if the muddy ground were a throne. For a few seconds, she was silent, just watching him intently. Then, she let slip:
"Do you know what the Elves were?"
Indra blinked. "They were… an ancient people, right?"
"More than that." Her voice was now low, almost confidential. "They shaped this forest. Created layer upon layer of reality like a sculptor molds clay. What you call the 'Dance' isn't a martial art. It's grammar."
Indra frowned. "Grammar?"
"A language." She tilted her head, and for a moment, a flicker of fascination seemed to flash behind her coldness. "Each movement isn't just attack or defense. It's a word. A command. A dialogue with this place."
The words hit him like hammer blows. Indra went still, feeling his muscles throb, as if confirming what she said. He swallowed hard.
"Why me?" he whispered.
Alexia didn't answer immediately. She retrieved a narrow scroll from within her robe and began scribbling curved symbols—quick, elegant strokes. It wasn't just a note; it was a record.
"Because you're useful." she said finally, without looking up. "And because this place decided to speak to you. I merely… translate what I see."
Indra clenched his fists. He wanted to shout, to challenge her, but there was no denying what he felt. The forest, the glyphs, the movements—it all resonated within him like a song he was only just beginning to hear.
He lowered his gaze. For an instant, he swore he saw, among the roots, a slender shadow walking beside him. A tall elf in translucent armor, looking at him with patient calm. When he blinked, the vision was gone.
"Don't fall asleep on your feet." Alexia said, storing the scroll. "Let's move."
She stood up, her dagger back in its sheath, and walked away without looking back.
Indra stayed put for a moment, trying to control his breathing. Her words still echoed: grammar, dialogue, language. Every fiber of his body seemed to silently repeat the Dance, as if he were no longer his own master.
When he caught up to her, Alexia said nothing, but Indra noticed: She wasn't just mocking him anymore. She was observing his every step, every breath, like a hunter analyzing rare prey.
And that was, somehow, even more dangerous than the monsters.
---
The first sign was the sound.
The deep BONG of the Stone Chimes, constant until now, faltered. The last toll didn't dissipate in the air—it stretched, vibrating like a string pulled too tight. The silence that followed wasn't natural; it was heavy, as if the air itself had ceased to exist for an instant.
Indra turned to Alexia. She said nothing, but the almost imperceptible furrow of her brow was enough to freeze his blood.
"Keep walking." she said dryly.
The ground trembled. The colossal roots supporting the trees began to age before Indra's eyes: in seconds, dry cracks spread across their surface, while lianas withered and fell. But just ahead, other plants bloomed at an insane pace, sprouting, growing, and dying in cycles of seconds.
"What's happening?" Indra asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Residue." Alexia replied. "Some ancient battle still echoes in this layer. The energy never dissipated."
Before he could process it, the world broke.
For an instant, Indra didn't feel the weight of his own body. His feet no longer touched the ground. He floated, then sank, as if gravity had forgotten what to do with him. The air glowed in hot and cold waves, distorting the trees around them like melted glass.
And then, he saw.
Out of nowhere, a silhouette formed in the clearing. Not a living creature—but a specter. It was a gigantic warrior, made of pure golden light, wielding a massive spear. Before him, the shadow of something immense, with horns of darkness, rose. They clashed, but the impact produced no sound: only an explosion of wind that threw Indra against a root.
"They're… fighting!" he gasped, feeling his chest burn.
Alexia didn't look away. "No. They already fought. You're seeing what's left." Her voice was low, almost reverent. "Echoes of the ancients' war."
The spear-wielding specter advanced. The horned monster roared in silence. Each blow distorted reality, spreading waves that made the pollen glow in impossible colors. One of those waves hit them.
Indra fell to his knees. His skin burned and froze at the same time. He instinctively raised his Jian, and for a moment, he saw his blade multiply into ten reflections, each in a different time. A cut that seemed to happen before he moved his arm. Another, delayed by seconds.
He was… out of sync.
"Breathe!" Alexia's voice cut through his vertigo. "Focus on the seal in your chest!"
He obeyed. The breathing she had forced him to learn—slow, measured, connected to the chaotic flow—anchored him. The illusions of multiple times receded, until only his real blade remained in his hands.
The warrior specter hurled his spear at the enemy. The horned shadow exploded into a black storm that spread in all directions. It was only a memory—but the energy it carried was still lethal.
Alexia hastily raised a golden barrier. "Run!"
They advanced, but the wave pursued them like a sea of living static, dissolving trees, corroding the air.
Indra felt the glyphs inside him vibrate, responding to the chaos. Dew Step. His feet touched unstable roots as if they were solid. Candle and Shadow. He dodged a falling trunk almost instinctively.
The world was crumbling, but the Dance kept him alive.
In the distance, a gap opened in the wall of trees, revealing a circular clearing. At its center, a stone altar covered in glyphs. They pulsed like hearts, in sync with the vertigo burning in Indra's chest.
"There!" Alexia shouted, pulling him by the arm. "Sanctuary!"
They ran across the clearing. The moment Indra stepped into the circle of glyphs, the chaos storm collided with an invisible barrier. The impact shook the ground, but the wave was contained. On the other side, the golden specter and the horned shadow were already disappearing, like dissipating smoke.
Indra fell to his knees, panting. Alexia stood, her gaze fixed on the altar. She said nothing. But her eyes shone differently—a glint of cold calculation.
Because the altar didn't react to her.
Only to him.
The altar wasn't dead stone. As soon as Indra regained his composure,the lines carved on its surface lit up in sequence, like a constellation being traced before his eyes. The glow was silver, but not cold—it pulsed as if alive.
The glyphs moved. They flowed into each other like rivers of liquid light, shifting position, forming patterns that seemed to recognize his presence.
Indra reached out. He didn't know why. He just… knew he had to.
The touch triggered an immediate reaction: the altar responded like a water surface struck by a stone. Waves of light raced across its surface, spreading until they reached the surrounding trees.
The entire clearing vibrated.
The sound of the Stone Chimes, once distorted, echoed again—but now deep, clear, harmonious.
Alexia narrowed her eyes. "This isn't an altar. It's a door."
And then the ground trembled.
From the roots around the circle, something began to rise. A metallic figure, colossal limbs intertwined with cords of silver light, took shape. It was a humanoid figure, over three meters tall, made of an ancient alloy that didn't reflect light but devoured it. Its face was a smooth mask, mouthless, with only a pair of hollow eyes that glowed like blue embers.
When it spoke, it wasn't a sound, but a resonance that vibrated inside Indra's chest:
"Gatekeeper. Guardian. Judge."
Indra stepped back, Jian at the ready. "What… is that?"
Alexia didn't move a muscle. Her eyes observed every detail, calculating. "An Elven Construct." she said, her voice low, tense, but not frightened. "Guardians of the passages. Created to test the worthy."
The automaton raised a spear that hadn't been there a second before. Its surface was covered in the same glyphs Indra had seen on the root arch. The tip gleamed with compressed energy. The sound wasn't of metal, but of trees splitting, as if the weapon were made of the forest itself. Its hollow eyes burned with blue light.
"Bring the Dance. Or perish."
The ground trembled as it advanced.
The first strike was a brutal crack, the spear hitting the ground and sending out concentric waves of energy. Indra instinctively leaped aside, but his feet moved with more than reflex: Dew Step. The energy passed through him like wind, without touching him.
He barely had time to register it before the spear's blade came in a lateral arc. Indra raised his Jian, his arms vibrating under the force of the impact. The weapon almost slipped from his grasp.
Alexia, motionless at the edge of the circle, watched. "He's not playing, idiot. Breathe. Or should I start preparing your epitaph?"
Indra gritted his teeth. The Guardian spun its spear, preparing another strike. The pattern was relentless, precise, like a flawless dance. It attacked.
Indra responded with Lion's Contained Roar. His Jian traced the diagonal cut, meeting the spear and deflecting it with surprising force. The Guardian retreated a step, and for an instant, Indra felt something ignite on the altar behind him—a glyph responding.
The Construct didn't hesitate. It advanced again, the spear tracing fluid circles, each blow coming from a different angle.
Indra tried to keep up, but faltered. The impact threw him to the ground, the Jian nearly slipping from his hand. The taste of iron filled his mouth. He coughed, feeling his ribs burn.
Alexia spoke without moving. "Die and prove me right. Or get up and shut my mouth."
He forced himself to stand. The Guardian was already coming with the spear's tip thrusting forward. And then… Indra's body reacted. Candle and Shadow. His Jian disappeared from where it was and reappeared,intercepting the spear at a point that didn't even seem threatening. The impact deflected the blow; the Guardian lost its rhythm.
Indra breathed rapidly, sweat dripping into his eyes. He didn't understand it, but the Dance seemed to use him as much as he tried to use it.
The Guardian tilted its head, assessing. Its eyes burned brighter. "Recognized.Partial. Continue."
This time, the automaton changed its posture. It didn't just attack—it tested. It accelerated, each strike faster, heavier, as if it wanted to crush Indra's mind through exhaustion.
Indra defended, spun, retreated. Each time he almost fell, the memory of a movement surfaced in his muscles. Scarring Thrust. The blade pierced empty space—and yet, it hit the Guardian, leaving a trail of light on its metallic chest.
Alexia finally uncrossed her arms. Her gaze was sharp. "Now. If you're going to show it, it's now."
But he didn't attack.
The Guardian raised its spear into a final position—a blow that would end it all.
Indra closed his eyes. And then he felt it.The sixth movement. Veil Vortex. Not the movement itself—but a flash of it. Not as a memory, but as instinct. The Jian in his hand began to spin in a spiral, faster than thought. An unstable whirlwind of light formed, spinning like veils of mist.
Veil Vortex.
The Guardian attacked—and was swallowed by the spiral. Its spear pierced the energy but lost momentum, as if pulled into an invisible whirlpool.
The Construct froze. The glyphs on its body burned intensely,recognizing.
"Key confirmed. Passage authorized."
It raised its spear into a guard position, and then… stopped. The metallic body retracted, like roots returning to the earth. In seconds, the clearing was silent again, except for the altar, which now projected a silver arch in the air—an opening, alive and pulsating, leading into the darkness beyond.
Indra fell to his knees, exhausted.
Alexia approached. Her shadow fell over him like a sentence.
"You didn't even finish the movement." she said, without emotion. "But it was enough."
He looked up at her, still trying to breathe. "What… what was that?"
She didn't answer immediately. She just watched him for a long moment. Then, in a voice as cold as ever:
"It was proof that you're not just dead weight."
Alexia passed through the arch without waiting.
Indra stayed behind for a second, staring into the passage. On the other side, he felt the pressure of something immense, unknown, waiting. But also… a call.
He swallowed hard and entered.
Behind them, the arch closed. The chaotic storm of the Intermediate Layer reached the barrier and exploded against it, contained like sea crashing against cliffs. The sound was swallowed, and then… absolute silence.
They were in the Hidden Layer.