The door dissolved like mist, and silence greeted him on the other side.
Marth stepped into a circular chamber carved from obsidian stone. Its walls pulsed faintly, etched with a web of ancient glyphs like veins under translucent skin. Shards of fractured crystals floated midair—recording devices, maybe memories. Most were dim. Some flickered like dying stars.
He took three steps in, and the door behind him sealed.
Then came the voice.
But not in sound.
Thoughts pressed into his mind like smoke:
"Uncatalogued pattern detected... Host interface compromised... Reconstruction partial... Unknown entity present."
Marth didn't flinch.
"Still working, are you?" he said calmly. "Or something like it."
The room responded with a cascade of hums. Crystals lit up one by one. Then, the voice became more stable—still layered, still distant, but intelligible.
"I am the Vault Mind. You are not in our records."
Marth's thoughts flickered briefly.
'Great. Another ancient AI with memory problems.'
The Vault Mind paused. Or perhaps the ambient mana in the room simply contracted, like breath held.
"Cycle irregularity detected. Internal model mismatch. You are an anomaly."
'Congratulations,' Marth thought. 'You've achieved step one: identifying the obvious.'
His face didn't change. Cold, composed, and expressionless. He walked further in, measured and quiet.
"Explain designation. Purpose. Lineage."
He considered giving it a fake name. Something absurd.
'High Priest of Recursive Ignorance?'
Instead, he chose a safer lie.
"Researcher," he said aloud. "Looking into lost systems. Conceptual layers. That sort of thing."
"You are not aligned with registered cycles or inheritance paths. Pattern unknown."
"Maybe I just fell through the cracks," he murmured internally.
'Or maybe I burned the whole floor and walked away.'
A crystal flashed red. The air distorted.
Marth recognized the conceptual pull—a truth-probing field. Weak, compared to what he'd faced before. It was designed to read intent, not expose it.
He let it pass through him.
"Anomaly confirmed. Internal conflict suppressed. External classification unclear."
'That's what happens when you don't keep a file on reincarnated demiliches.'
His expression remained calm. Cold. But his mind was smirking at itself.
"State objective."
"Observation," he replied aloud. "Interpretation."
"This is not a valid Vault priority."
"I never claimed to be valid."
In response, a pulse radiated from the walls. Several floating panels detached from the chamber's edges. Glyphs flared. Ancient constructs began forming midair—humanoid shells of metal, bone, and semi-solid ether.
Trial Guardians.
Four of them.
'Of course. Can't pass a door without punching something to death.'
He exhaled.
They moved in unison—no wasted motion, no delay. This wasn't brute testing. It was performance evaluation.
Marth raised a hand and whispered:
"Vector Bind."
A 4th-tier spell. Simple kinetic lockdown. The first guardian halted mid-step, its weight thrown forward as its joints locked. Marth sidestepped its momentum and snapped his fingers.
"Mana Lance."
A compressed bolt of energy pierced its core. It collapsed in pieces.
Another lunged behind him.
He drew a glyph in the air—his movements tight, efficient. But slow.
His current body couldn't handle high-tier spells. Anything above 4th-tier risked backlash.
"Barrier Twist."
The strike rebounded off a curved ripple of force. He countered with a Combustive Pulse, slagging the construct's helm.
Two left.
He ducked low, dragging his hand against the floor.
"Friction Break."
The floor beneath them lost all traction. They slid helplessly.
"Binding Roots."
"Internal Rupture."
Dual-cast.
Both guardians fell still.
Marth stood quietly for a few seconds, letting his body recover.
Too much strain. Too much delay.
'If I had my old body, this would've been over in four seconds and a yawn.'
He wiped his brow. No frustration. Just cold arithmetic.
"Efficiency: acceptable. Energy output: high. Spell behavior exceeds model standard. Origin energy signature—suppressed."
"Just being polite," he said.
"Anomaly status retained. Internal processing incomplete."
No comment. Let the thing guess.
"You seek the Deep Core."
The statement hung in the air.
He didn't confirm it. He didn't need to.
"Access is forbidden. Its encryption exceeds present Vault parameters."
'Typical. Build a ruin, lock the door, lose the key, die screaming.'
"One came before you. They reached the threshold. They left entropy. No name. No trace."
He blinked once.
'Not helpful. But not irrelevant.'
Still, no reaction crossed his face.
"You may proceed."
The far wall split open. A spiral staircase led downward, glowing dimly with residual mana.
"A chamber lies below. Soulforge Archive. Failed synthesis models. Cursed vessels. Behavioral records. Use with caution."
Not a forge. Not anymore. Just a tomb for broken things.
'Perfect.'
"One final note," the Vault Mind added.
"You wear silence like armor. It is difficult to map."
Marth didn't speak. But inwardly, he chuckled.
'You should see what's under the armor.'
He descended without a word, vanishing into the stairwell.