The cavern stood before him like the mouth of something ancient.
Silent.
Frozen.
Half-buried beneath Tyber's eternal frost.
At first glance—
it appeared ordinary.
A ruined cave.
Nothing more.
But Azriah knew better.
'An illusion.'
His breath misted in the frigid air.
The true fracture was hidden.
Concealed beneath ancient magical distortion.
Not to keep monsters out—
but to keep the unworthy away.
'…You're certain this is the place?'
Sham's tone was cautious now.
Far more serious than before.
Azriah nodded once.
'Yes.'
A pause.
Then—
'The entrance was hidden after Seir's conquest.'
Another pause.
'Only those with proper knowledge—or extraordinary luck—could uncover it.'
Sham was silent.
Then—
'And naturally, we're choosing knowledge over luck.'
Azriah ignored him.
Without hesitation—
he drew a blade.
Then—
sliced his palm.
Blood welled instantly.
Dark crimson against white snow.
Azriah pressed his bleeding hand against the frozen stone.
Then began tracing runes.
Ancient symbols.
Forgotten invocation marks.
Knowledge carried over from the game's hidden lore.
Each rune glowed faintly as blood filled its shape.
One.
Then another.
Then dozens.
The mountain trembled.
Mana shifted violently.
The illusion shattered.
Reality itself seemed to peel away.
The false cavern dissolved like fractured glass.
And beneath it—
the true fracture revealed itself.
A colossal black gateway embedded into reality itself.
Distorted.
Pulsing.
Ancient.
Like a wound in existence.
Its interior was pure void.
Spatial instability warped the surrounding air.
Snow evaporated before touching it.
Even the mountain seemed to recoil.
'…That is profoundly unpleasant.'
Sham sounded genuinely disturbed.
Azriah's gaze remained steady.
'This is a true fracture.'
A pause.
Then—
'The dwelling place of spatial abominations.'
Sham immediately sounded offended.
'And we're entering WHY?'
Azriah stepped forward.
'Because this one was conquered.'
A pause.
Then—
'By Seir.'
The name carried weight.
Even now.
'Sage Seir.'
Azriah's eyes narrowed slightly.
'Descendant of the Nephilim.'
A pause.
Then—
'Persecuted by the Church.'
Another pause.
'Revered by magicians.'
Sham quieted.
Azriah continued.
'For the Church, he was heresy.'
A pause.
Then—
'For mages…'
Another pause.
'He was knowledge incarnate.'
Seir had conquered this fracture long ago.
But instead of destroying it—
he repurposed it.
Using residual divinity from Ein Shof itself—
he created Codex Arboris.
And from its remains—
Imaginary Tree.
Not as treasure.
But as inheritance.
A trial.
For one worthy enough to claim it.
Azriah stepped through.
Darkness swallowed him instantly.
Space fractured.
Reality twisted.
And then—
"WELCOME, CHALLENGER OF THE TRIAL."
The voice was not human.
Not divine.
Not even truly audible.
It was—
the world itself.
Ancient.
Absolute.
Resonating through existence.
And then—
everything changed.
Azriah found himself standing within a library.
Infinite.
Towering shelves stretched endlessly upward.
Ancient tomes floated in suspended motion.
Stars glimmered beyond impossible windows.
Knowledge itself seemed alive here.
And at its center—
sat a throne.
Upon it—
was Seir.
The Prince of Nephilim.
Tall.
Majestic.
Ancient beyond reason.
Silver-black robes draped over regal armor.
His crown shimmered with fractured celestial geometry.
His eyes—
inhumanly brilliant.
Neither alive.
Nor dead.
But eternal.
For several moments—
silence ruled.
Then—
Seir rose.
Slowly.
Gracefully.
His gaze fell upon Azriah.
And though calm—
its weight felt immeasurable.
"…What year is it?"
His voice was smooth.
Ancient.
And terrifyingly composed.
Azriah answered immediately.
"An age ruled by the Seven Elohim."
A pause.
Then—
"They divide dominion across the continents."
Another pause.
"Eblonth remains under sole Church authority."
Seir's expression did not shift.
Azriah continued.
"I stand in Tamriel."
A pause.
Then—
"Where the Empire of Elysium reigns supreme."
Silence.
Long.
Measured.
Then—
Seir asked again.
"…And what god do you serve?"
Azriah's gaze did not waver.
"…None."
Silence deepened.
For the first time—
Seir's expression shifted slightly.
Not surprise.
But interest.
"…Do you know who I am?"
Azriah answered instantly.
"Yes."
A pause.
Then—
"Sage Seir."
Another pause.
"Prince of the persecuted Nephilim."
Silence.
Then—
Seir descended his throne steps slowly.
"…And what is it you seek here?"
The pressure intensified.
Reality itself seemed heavier.
Azriah remained still.
Then—
'I want to know something.'
A pause.
Then—
'Am I a slave to destiny…'
Another pause.
His gaze sharpened.
'…or the one capable of enslaving it.'
Silence.
Absolute.
Then—
Azriah's final words echoed.
'I want to see its end.'
For the first time—
Seir smiled.
Faintly.
But undeniably.
Not warm.
Not kind.
But approving.
He leaned closer.
Then whispered—
"Then let us see… what crown you force upon the world."
And vanished.
Reality shattered again.
The library disappeared.
The throne vanished.
And Azriah was thrown back into the cavern.
But something had changed.
Darkness spread unnaturally.
The fracture itself began collapsing inward.
Shadows deepened.
Mana distorted violently.
And in Azriah's hand—
appeared the Codex.
Black.
Ancient.
Living.
Its cover pulsed like a heartbeat.
Symbols of impossible geometry carved across its surface.
The moment he touched it—
it opened.
And fused with him.
The Codex dissolved into liquid light.
Crawling into his hand.
Through veins.
Through flesh.
Into mind.
Pain erupted.
Agony unlike anything before.
Azriah screamed.
His skull felt as though it were splitting apart.
Knowledge.
Systems.
Prophecy.
Countless streams of impossible information flooded him all at once.
His nervous system convulsed.
His eyes darkened.
Reality bent.
'AZRIAH!'
Sham's voice sounded distant.
Panicked.
But unreachable.
Imaginary Tree had begun.
Codex Arboris had accepted him.
And Azriah Antioch—
was now undergoing his first true transformation.
As the fracture trembled—
as fate itself bent—
one truth became undeniable.
He had not merely entered Seir's trial.
He had inherited it.