The memory did not pause.
In the frozen valley, the bone claws of the Tyrant descended.
Nephis flinched, expecting blood. Rain looked away. But the Blur did not die.
With a speed born of pure desperation, the Blur threw himself sideways. The chain connecting his wrists to the other slaves snapped taut, yanking him out of the path of the strike.
Instead of hitting the boy, the claws sheared through the broad-shouldered slave standing next to him.
Blood sprayed across the snow, hot and bright red. The man didn't even scream. He simply came apart. His heavy, lifeless corpse collapsed on top of the flickering figure, pinning him to the ground.
"A meat shield," Morgan noted, her voice devoid of judgment, merely impressed by the reflex. "Efficient."
But the horror wasn't over.
Under the pile of snow and blood, something began to writhe. The corpse of the dead slave started to spasm. Bones cracked, lengthening and sharpening. The skin split open to reveal shifting, worm-like muscles beneath.
"It's reproducing," Solvane said, a flicker of disgust crossing her perfect face. "The Tyrant's parasites are taking over the host."
The Blur was trapped under the transforming corpse. He struggled, thrashing against the weight, but the chain was tangled. A nightmare maw filled with needle-like fangs snapped inches from his face.
"He's dead," Anvil of Valor stated. "He has no weapon. He has no strength. And he is pinned by a monster."
In the snow, the shadowy figure stopped thrashing.
For a split second, he went perfectly still.
Then, he moved. He didn't try to punch the monster or push it off. He grabbed the slack length of the heavy iron chain connecting the slaves.
With a feral snarl that sounded like torn audio tape, the boy threw the chain around the Larva's neck. He scrambled around the creature's back, using his own body as a lever, and pulled.
"Pull!" The voice that erupted from the Blur was distorted, a jagged burst of static. "Pull as though your lives depend on it!"
The chain bit into the Larva's throat. Black blood oozed out.
The Blur gritted his teeth, his wavering face a mask of savage determination. He pulled, and pulled, using the weight of the terrified slaves on the other end as his anchor. Every second felt like an eternity. His strength was running out. His wounded back screamed in agony.
But he didn't let go.
A wet crack echoed through the valley. The Larva went limp.
The Spell's voice echoed in the neverending coldness.
[You have slain a dormant beast, Mountain King's Larva.]
The Loom fell silent.
"He killed it," Effie whispered, eyes wide. "He actually choked it out."
"He didn't just use the chain," Daeron rumbled, his serpent eyes narrowing. "He used the panic of the other slaves. He turned their fear into leverage. That isn't combat technique... that is pure survival instinct."
But there was no time to celebrate.
The Mountain King was still rampaging on the platform. The distraction provided by the Hero, who was darting around the beast with his glowing sword, was failing.
The Blur didn't run. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed the terrified remaining slaves, Shifty and Scholar, and sprinted toward the supply wagon perched on the edge of the cliff.
"The wagon?" Rain asked, bewildered. "Why is he going for the supplies?"
Anvil of Valor did not answer immediately. For a moment, his gaze drifted away from the memory, landing heavily on the young woman standing near Nephis.
He frowned.
The King of Swords felt a sudden, inexplicable prickling on his skin. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in years — the phantom pressure of a blade pressed against his throat. It radiated from the girl... no, from the darkness pooling at her feet.
Who is she? Anvil thought, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Rain. Does Nephis's retainer have such hidden killing intent? Or is the Spell defending her?
Before he could analyze it further, the sound of screeching wheels drew his attention back to the scene.
The glitching figure was gesturing wildly, pointing at the wedges under the wagon's wheels. He was shouting orders, though the words were garbled by the Spell's interference.
Then, he grabbed a loose chain and spun it like a lasso.
"He's trying to trap it," Jet realized. "He wants to use the wagon as an anchor."
The boy threw the chain. It soared through the air... and missed the Tyrant's legs completely. Instead, it landed around the creature's thick neck.
The Tyrant froze.
It didn't turn to look at the chain. It didn't look at the Blur.
It tilted its head, its milky white eyes staring at nothing. Its ears twitched, tracking the sound of the metal scraping against stone.
"Wait," Cassie said, her voice cutting through the tension. She leaned forward, her sightless eyes fixed on the beast's movements. "It isn't looking at him."
Nephis turned to her. "What?"
"The eyes," Cassie whispered, tapping her own temple. "They are clouded. It reacts to the screams. It reacts to the clanking of the chains. But it didn't react to the throw at all."
Cassie's face paled as the realization hit her.
"It only froze when it felt the weight on its neck. The Mountain King... is blind."
As if confirming her words, the Blur slammed his shoulder into the back of the wagon.
"Roll! Roll, you creaky piece of shit!"
The thought projected by the Spell was clear, cutting through the audio static.
Shifty and Scholar pushed alongside him. The wheels screeched against the rock — a sound like a thunderclap to the sensitive beast.
The Tyrant roared and lunged — not at the boy, but at the sound of the wagon rolling off the cliff.
The chain snapped taut.
The massive weight of the falling wagon yanked the Tyrant off its feet. With a confused howl, the abomination was dragged over the edge, plummeting into the dark abyss below.
Silence returned to the mountain.
Noctis let out a low whistle. "Well. That was clever."
"He didn't overpower it," Mordret murmured, a small, appreciative smile playing on his lips. "He used the environment. He used gravity. He uses everything."
In the memory, the Blur collapsed onto the snow, gasping for air.
He looked pitiful. He looked weak.
But he was the only one smiling.
◇ ◇ ◇
The reprieve was short. The Hero, Auro, immediately took command. He ordered the survivors to gather supplies from the dead soldiers — food, clothes, and water flagons.
The Blur was sent into the shadows to collect the water.
Shivering in the cold, the wavering figure stumbled upon a body. It was the Veteran Soldier — the same older man who had whipped him mercilessly just hours before.
The man was badly injured, his chest torn open, but he was still clinging to life.
Rain narrowed her eyes. "That's the man who whipped him."
The dying soldier looked at the Blur. He weakly moved his hand, reaching for something.
The Blur looked down. He picked up a shattered sword lying in the snow.
"Are you looking for this?" The static-filled voice asked, devoid of warmth. "Why? Are you longing to die with a weapon in your hands?".
The soldier didn't answer, staring at the slave with intense emotion.
"Well, it might as well do," the boy whispered. "After all, I promised to watch you die.".
With no hesitation, no shaking of the hands, the Blur leaned forward and slit the old man's throat.
Nephis watched the light fade from the soldier's eyes. She didn't look away. It was a mercy, and it was revenge. It was the first step on a road she knew well.
"His first kill," Anvil observed. "He didn't hesitate. He has the heart of a killer."
A soft chime resonated from the Loom.
[You have received a Memory: Silver Bell.]
The image of a small, delicate silver bell appeared above the Blur's head.
[Description: A small memento of a long-lost home. Its clear ringing can be heard from miles away.].
"A bell?" Solvane scoffed. "He kills a warrior and receives a child's toy? Useless."
"Is it?" Mordret whispered, his eyes gleaming. "Or is it just a tool you don't know how to use yet?"
The Blur dismissed the rune. He stripped the dead man of his warm fur cloak and boots, putting them on. Then, he began his task.
He moved from corpse to corpse, gathering water flagons.
But as the Spell focused on his hands, Mordret leaned closer.
There, growing in the snow where the blood had spilled, were patches of bright red berries. Bloodbane.
The Blur paused. He looked at the berries. He looked at the open flagons of water in his hands.
His form glitched violently, obscuring exactly what he did next. But his hands moved with quick, deliberate precision over the flask openings.
"Ah," Mordret murmured, a delighted grin spreading across his face. "There it is."
Then, the Prince of Nothing glanced sideways. He wasn't looking at the memory, but at Rain.
The girl was oblivious, watching the scene with confusion. She shifted her weight, restless and anxious.
But her shadow... her shadow did not move.
It didn't mimic her anxiety. It lay against the obsidian rock with a heavy, unnatural stillness, absorbing the light. It wasn't confused. It was waiting.
The reflection does not match the mirror, Mordret thought, his smile widening. How fascinating.
◇ ◇ ◇
The climb began.
The mountain pass was destroyed. They had to scale the sheer, icy face of the peak to escape before the monster climbed back up.
It was brutal. Fingers bled. Skin turned black with frostbite. The altitude sickness made them vomit and stumble.
But something was wrong with Shifty, the thief who had tormented the boy earlier.
"He is sweating," Ki Song rasped, her dead eyes narrowing as she tracked the stumbling thief. "In a blizzard that freezes bone, he is burning up. That is not exhaustion. That is toxicity."
"Perhaps," Mordret said softly, "he drank something he shouldn't have."
Then, the inevitable happened.
Shifty fell behind. At some point, the Blur heard a desperate scream.
Turning around, the wavering figure only had time to see a panic-stricken face.
Then Shifty fell backward, his foot slipping on an ice-covered rock. He hit the ground hard and rolled down, still trying to grab onto something.
But it was too late.
Frozen in place and powerless, the audience watched as his body tumbled down the slope, leaving bloody marks on the rocks. With each second, Shifty looked less like a man and more like a rag doll.
A handful of moments later, he finally came to a halt, hitting the top of a large, protruding stone in a pile of broken flesh.
Shifty was dead.
"Just like that?" Rain whispered, horrified.
"The mountain claims its toll," Solvane said, though she glanced at the Blur's impassive face with suspicion. "Though... that man seemed incredibly clumsy."
Finally, the three survivors reached a narrow path high above the clouds. They collapsed, starving and freezing.
And then, the betrayal began.
The Scholar, an older man who had acted kind and gentle until now, looked at the Hero. Then, he looked at the shivering slave.
"The beast is following us," Scholar rasped, his voice trembling. "It follows the scent of blood."
Hero — Auro — looked grim. "We cannot outrun it."
"We can," Scholar whispered. "If we leave a trail. A bait."
He pointed a shaking finger at the Blur.
"The boy," Scholar said. "He is covered in blood. He is weak. If we drag him down the path... if we leave him here... the monster will stop to eat. It will give us time."
Rain stiffened. "He's going to kill him? After he saved them?"
Before them, the Hero looked at the boy. His handsome, righteous face twisted in conflict. He looked at his sword. He looked at the shivering, glitching figure.
"Your logic," Auro said slowly, "is almost unassailable."
"Hypocrites," Kai spat, turning away in disgust. "Heroes... they're all the same. They talk about justice until their own lives are on the line."
But then, the Hero smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile. It was sharp.
"However," Auro said, drawing his blade. "I know who you are, Your Grace. I know the crimes you committed to become a slave. If anyone deserves to bleed... it is you."
With a blur of motion, the Hero swung his sword.
He didn't kill the Scholar. He smashed the flat of the blade into the man's knees, shattering them instantly.
Scholar screamed.
"Justice," Ki Song murmured, though she sounded amused. "Brutal, efficient justice."
Auro dragged the screaming, broken man down the path and left him there. The screams lasted for minutes, then were cut short by a wet crunching sound.
The monster had been fed.
"He saved the boy," Effie said, exhaling a breath she didn't know she was holding. "He has a code."
"Does he?" Mordret countered softly. "Or did he just pick the bait that deserved it more?"
◇ ◇ ◇
The frozen world unraveled.
The mountain, the snow, and the blood dissolved into a swirling mist of silver starlight and golden threads. For a heartbeat, the audience stood once again in the infinite void of the Loom, suspended in the weave of Fate.
Then, the strings rushed back together. The vastness collapsed, stitching together the claustrophobic confines of a small, dark cave.
Night had fallen. The Blur and Auro were alone.
The fire was out. The darkness was absolute.
"You know," Auro's voice came from the dark. "It is strange. Usually, I can sense people. But with you... it is like you are just a shadow."
The shadowy figure sat against the wall, hugging his knees. "Are you waiting for me to fall asleep before you kill me?" The voice was a whisper of static, barely audible.
The question hung in the air.
"Yes," Auro admitted. His voice was heavy with regret. "The scent of blood is too strong on you. The monster will come. I cannot let you be eaten alive. It is better if I do it myself."
"Duty," Anvil nodded. "A hard choice, but the correct one. The boy is a liability."
"He saved you!" Rain shouted, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She wasn't crying. She was furious. "You bastard! He saved you with the wagon!"
The Blur laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound, like sandpaper on stone.
"You people," the glitch said, his voice dripping with venomous distortion. "Always needing a good excuse. Just say it. You're killing me because you want to survive."
The Hero, Auro, stepped forward, his towering frame casting a long, terrifying shadow in the golden light of his sword. The Blur sat against the cave wall, a pathetic, shivering figure that seemed barely capable of holding its own weight.
"I am sorry," Auro said, rising to his feet. He drew his glowing sword. "I will make it quick."
The Blur didn't move. He didn't run. He didn't beg.
He just looked up at the Hero with a strange, dark expression, his features lost in a haze of visual noise.
"Aren't you overly confident?" the static-filled voice scratched against the audience's minds, sounding suddenly cold and devoid of fear. "What makes you think you'll be able to kill me? Maybe I'll kill you instead.".
Auro shook his head sadly, raising his glowing blade. "I doubt that."
He raised the sword.
Kai looked away, unable to watch. Nephis leaned forward, searching for the trap she knew must be there.
And then, the Hero stumbled.
The sword clattered to the stone floor, as Auro fell to his knees, clutching his chest. His handsome face turned grey, his eyes bulging in sudden, agonizing shock.
He coughed, and a torrent of blood erupted from his mouth, splattering across the cave floor.
"What?" Effie blinked. "What just happened?"
Mordret chuckled. It was a low, delighted sound. "The berries. I knew it."
Auro stared at his hands, trembling. "What... what magic is this? A curse?"
The Blur sat there, unmoving. The fear was gone from his posture. The desperation was gone.
Slowly, a cold, satisfied smile stretched across where his lips should be.
"Finally," the static whispered.
The Blur leaned forward, all traces of the "pitiful slave" vanishing into a mask of cold, callous contempt. He looked at the dying warrior and spat with a voice full of venomous distortion:
"You people... always needing a good excuse. You're killing me because you want to survive, yet you act as though you're doing me a favor. I really hate hypocrites like you the most.".
Auro stared at his hands, trembling through the pain of the Bloodbane poison . "What... what magic is this?".
"I might have not learned much in my short life, but I do know one thing," the Blur said, leaning in until his flickering eyes burned into Auro's . "There is nothing more pathetic than a slave who begins to trust his slaver." the boy spat, the words landing with a chilling, absolute finality.
In the audience, Nephis went perfectly still. An inexplicable, phantom resonance rippled through her soul, the words striking a cord that felt tied to a forgotten mantle of authority.
Beside her, Cassie shivered violently, her hands flying to her temples. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a crushing wave of guilt, the weight of a betrayal she could not name pressing against her chest.
"You... you are a wicked little shit, aren't you?" Auro managed to laugh through the blood.
"I don't care about your justice," the Blur hissed, his will to survive flaring like a dark flame. "I will keep moving. I will keep breathing. I am going to survive this nightmare purely to spite you all — to spite a world that told me I wasn't allowed to exist.".
As those words echoed through the starlight of the Loom, a sudden, inexplicable chill swept through the entire audience. It was not the biting cold of the mountain blizzard, but a spiritual frost that seemed to emanate from the very center of the projection.
Saints and Sovereigns alike found themselves shivering, their breath hitching as a primordial dread settled in their marrow. It was the feeling of a Will so sharp and focused that it threatened to cut through the tapestry of fate itself.
The chill reached its peak around Rain, who wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth chattering. She didn't understand why she felt so terrified, yet so strangely proud.
Unseen by anyone, but the mirror-eyed Prince, the darkness at Rain's heels deepened into an absolute void — a shadow that refused to reflect the light of the Spell.
While the Hero in the vision collapsed, the shadow in the room remained. Cold. Sharp. Unbroken.