Noctis gazed at the distant temple. Even in the darkness, he could see it as clearly as if it were bathed in daylight. He couldn't describe its shape—its presence was something beyond words. Yet, the longer he looked, the more his soul twisted with a storm of sensations: hunger, longing, and a faint, lingering disgust.
Through it all, his expression remained calm—eerily so. He turned back for a brief moment and saw the wave of blue light still advancing from where he had come. But even that didn't break his composure. He lingered atop the hill a few more seconds, admiring the haunting beauty of the view, and glanced up at the sky.
'The sun should rise soon.'
Without wasting another breath, he started toward the temple. He walked for dozens of meters, and the dull, emotionless whispers returned. In his mind, shadows and blue lights swirled together—but Noctis stayed detached, letting them echo and fade away.
Within minutes, he was halfway there.
The soldier had said the temple only appeared at night. Noctis didn't know if that was true, and he didn't intend to leave it to chance.
He picked up his pace. His bare toes stung—he'd tripped over too many stones to count.
When he finally reached the base of the temple, he took several deep breaths and looked up. He had never seen a temple before, but it was nothing like the ones his grandfather had described. It was long and wide, its structure strange and unwelcoming. There were no windows—only rows of tall doors, each one slightly larger than any normal entrance he'd seen.
Only one stood out: a massive door, several meters taller than the rest. The temple was colored in shades of gray and black, the two tones blending like smoke and ash.
Ever since he'd laid eyes on it, a strange feeling had crept into him— and now, as he drew closer, that feeling grew unbearable. The sense of being watched.
Noctis scanned every direction again, but there was nothing—no movement, no figures.
Yet every step made the sensation stronger.
'The shadows... Is the shroud not working anymore?'
The distance between him and the temple was only a few dozen meters now. Every nerve in his body screamed that something was about to happen. He tightened his grip on the chained sword and softened his footsteps.
He approached the great door—
and at that moment, the pressure inside him surged. His breathing quickened, pupils dilating until his eyes were nearly black.
The fear clawed at him with every step, but retreat wasn't an option anymore.
He stepped through the large entrance.
Immediately, his eyes swept across the hall—an instinctive scan for danger.
Nothing moved. Nothing stirred.
It looked like a vast chamber, a silent hall that stretched deep into the temple.
Noctis could see every inch of it clearly, just as he could outside— yet there was no light source anywhere. The illumination was unnatural, as if the darkness itself allowed him to see.
It felt as though light itself had never reached the inside of the temple.
A chill crept down Noctis's spine.
He moved deeper, stepping into a narrow corridor. The walls were pitch-black—not just dark, but the kind of black that seemed to swallow even the thought of light.
As he walked through the unlit passage, something on the wall caught his eye—a faded drawing, its lines smeared and age-worn, drawn with something unidentifiable.
He raised an eyebrow and leaned closer.
The figure resembled the creature he had killed before—the green-eyed beast—and above it stood a human. Parts of the drawing even looked like the temple itself.
There were dozens of green-eyed monsters and humans, yet… there was no sign of battle.
The scene was calm, almost reverent.
Noctis frowned, unable to understand. He sighed quietly and kept moving.
There were many murals along the corridor, but most were too damaged or abstract to make sense of.
'Aren't temples supposed to be for worship?
Who would draw something like this?'
He slowed down, and that was when he realized something he hadn't noticed since stepping inside— the feeling of being watched was gone.
The heavy pressure that had been clawing at him since the hilltop… had vanished.
It should have been a relief, but instead it terrified him even more. It was as if whatever had been watching no longer needed to.
Breathing fast, he hurried through the long corridor until it opened into a vast chamber.
The air was still. There were no objects, no furniture—only emptiness. His footsteps echoed faintly across the hollow space.
He wasn't hungry, yet his core trembled within him. His instincts began to twist, something primal stirring in the silence.
A sharp mix of fear and anger burned in his chest.
'If something's going to happen, then let it happen already.'
He stood ready. But nothing did.
He cursed under his breath and resumed scanning the area—until something caught his attention. It made his stomach drop.
Hanging from the ceiling was a chain.
But that wasn't what frightened him.
What froze him in place was its shadow—a broken, severed outline stretched across the floor, even though there was no source of light in the entire chamber.
Noctis looked between the ceiling chain and its shadow. The real chain was intact, vanishing upward into the darkness. Yet its shadow looked snapped, like it had fallen and shattered.
Driven by impulse, Noctis knelt down and reached for the shadow on the ground.
When his fingers brushed it, the shadow moved—its cold texture clinging to his hand.
He pulled it up from the floor to inspect it closely.
Then— the chain slipped from his grasp.
He stumbled back as the dark shape began to writhe and twist. The shadowy chain slowly lost its form, rippling like liquid smoke, reshaping itself into something alive.
Even though there were no other shadows anywhere, dark shapes began to seep out from every direction—flowing, writhing, rushing toward the shifting chain. They merged into it, feeding it, making it swell.
Noctis watched with a confused and horrified expression. He reacted instantly, lunging to strike the shadow, but it slipped away before his blade could reach it. Each time he tried, the thing darted to another side, like it was toying with him.
He stopped attacking and simply stared.
The dark form kept expanding, twisting, reshaping—its texture pulsing like liquid smoke.
Then, slowly, it began to rise from the ground.
The sight pressed against the limits of his perception; its shape refused to stay still, like it existed in several states at once.
In seconds, the shadow stopped growing—
its height now equal to two grown men, its width slightly wider than that.
It had no head, no clear limbs, just a flowing black mass that vaguely resembled the disgusting beasts he had fought before.
Noctis's instincts screamed at him.
He had never felt such an overwhelming signal of danger in his life.
He stared, breathing fast, as sweat slid coldly down his spine.
'That thing… is a Second Layer.'
He tried to stay composed, but fear was winning. His heartbeat echoed like thunder in his ears.
Then the creature rippled violently—its form stabilizing as appendages began to form.
A long arm… a hand with too many fingers.
Six legs ending in razor-sharp points.
Just looking at it, Noctis had the sickening impression that the creature had simply been waiting to wake up. He cursed under his breath, trying not to tremble.
The shadow's movements ceased; it hung in silence, motionless and watching.
Noctis drew a deep breath and charged.
But before his blade could strike—
the creature dodged again, dissolving into the air like smoke.
He had struggled to kill a First Layer shadow.
Facing this thing was suicide—he knew it.
And yet, something deep inside him—dark and irrational—wanted to destroy it.
He readied his stance and lunged forward once more. This time, the shadow didn't move.
A moment later, pain exploded across his back.
His eyes widened in shock.
The creature was in front of him, yet the blow had come from behind.
He spun around instantly, but there was nothing behind him.
Heart pounding, he whipped his gaze forward again—just in time to see something rise from the floor and slam into him.
The impact knocked the air from his lungs. He stumbled back, struggling to stay upright, when he realized the shadow was closing in.
Noctis forced himself to stand, swinging his sword wildly.
The creature retreated with sudden speed.
'It's afraid of the sword.'
He moved forward, step by step, careful and tense. His instincts screamed again—he lunged sideways just in time.
A streak of ink-black matter shot past where he had been standing.
He caught sight of what had struck him before.
Another tendril burst from the ground; he dodged again, breath sharp and ragged.
Then he charged.
Each stride was erratic—left, right, forward—trying to confuse it. The shadow skittered back on its revolting, many-jointed legs. Noctis darted in, but the creature's arm lashed out and hurled him aside.
The blow crushed the air from his chest; his vision blurred. The chained sword slipped from his grasp, clattering near his feet.
Through hazy sight he saw the monster rushing toward him. He threw himself forward, snatched the blade from the ground, and swung it up.
The shadow veered, striking from the side instead. Noctis twisted the sword, driving it into one of the creature's arms—but not before taking a brutal hit to his wounded arm.
Pain exploded through him.
He screamed, the sound raw and cracked.
The shadow's silent scream answered him, filling the hollow temple with a horrible echo.
When he tried to move his arm, a sharp, cracking pain ran through him.
Broken.
His face twisted in agony and fury; his pale, blood-smeared features flushed crimson. Yet the pain slowly dulled. His nerves numbed, and the rest of his wounds felt strangely distant—almost manageable.
From the creature's severed limb, small wisps of black smoke bled into the air.
It lingered for a moment, as if studying him, then lunged.
Noctis raised the chained sword, forcing his trembling legs to move. He dodged sideways, reacting faster this time. Little by little, he began to adapt to its rhythm.
He studied every motion, every ripple.
He still took a few hits—sharp glancing blows that sent pain through his ribs—but nothing fatal.
His widened eyes tracked every twitch of its body.
After several dozen seconds, he was no longer merely surviving—he was matching it.
Even the attacks from behind or the sides no longer surprised him. He pressed forward, slashing again and again. Each cut left a trail of dark smoke hissing into the air.
The shadow retaliated relentlessly, blows hammering him from every angle.
Noctis's head spun, his breath shortened, and his eyelids drooped.
The world around him began to blur—
but his body refused to stop moving.
But the will to live kept him standing.
One arm hung useless at his side.
His face was battered beyond recognition.
His legs trembled uncontrollably.
With each passing minute his body decayed further— yet every time he struck, even weakly, his blade still carved a mark into the shadow.
Every time the creature lunged, he answered.
Noctis staggered back, chest heaving.
The ink-black monster shimmered, its form rippling again. He fixed his gaze on it and drew one long, ragged breath. Then, deep within his chest, his core began to tremble.
Summoning the last of his strength, he sprinted forward, circling to the right.
The creature followed immediately.
Then—he stopped. In the same heartbeat, he hurled the chained sword straight at it and kept running.
The monster swerved to evade the flying blade—
and Noctis, closing the distance in a blur, grabbed hold of it with both hands and pulled himself in.
The shadow flailed, thrashing violently.
Noctis wasted no time—he sank his teeth into it.
A soundless scream rippled through the chamber. The creature struck him hard, throwing him back, but he lunged again without hesitation.
He seized it once more, dragged himself closer, and bit down again.
The shadow reeled backward, crashing into the wall with a thunderous impact.
Noctis barely dodged the blow—but one of his legs was caught and crushed.
Pain flooded through his body, but he didn't stop.
He kept attacking, biting, tearing—devouring.
Chunks of darkness vanished between his teeth as the creature pummeled him with blow after blow.
Finally, with a desperate swing, the shadow's mangled arm grabbed him and flung him across the hall. He hit the ground and rolled, his face a mangled mess, his body soaked in his own blood.
The creature staggered closer within seconds.
Noctis could hardly see anymore.
One eye was swollen shut; the other fluttered, dim and fading. He couldn't move—not even a finger.
His breathing slowed, and his mind fell eerily still.
Even his soul felt silent.
Each breath seared his lungs.
Eventually, even that became too painful—
he stopped trying to breathe at all and closed his eyes.
He waited for death.
Seconds passed.
Nothing came.
Slowly, he opened his remaining eye.
The temple—the vast, ominous structure—was beginning to sink into the earth from the far end downward, as if swallowed by the world itself.
Above it, dawn had begun to break.
The first golden rays of sunlight clashed beautifully against the lingering stars, a serene contrast to the ruin below.
For a moment, Noctis simply watched.
Then his gaze fell.
The shadow was writhing, its form twisting and convulsing as if in agony. Dark smoke streamed from its body, rising like the stench of decay. It shrank with every second—smaller, weaker—until its movement slowed to nothing.
Then, the shapeless mass began to crawl toward him. But Noctis didn't flinch.
He knew what it meant.
[ You have slain a 2nd-Layer Shadow. ]
[ The shadow is being devoured. ]
[ Your soul has grown stronger. ]
[ Your soul has grown stronger. ]
[ Your soul has grown stronger. ]
[...]
[ You have earned a Soul Mark. ]
The divine, choir-like voice of the spell filled the air once more— and for the first time, Noctis enjoyed hearing it.
As the temple dissolved completely beneath the rising sun, he gazed at the breathtaking scene until his single open eye grew heavy.
His wounded eye slid shut.
Everything faded to black.
[ … ]
[ Congratulations… You have passed the trial. ]
[ The magic summons you to its presence. ]