Chapter 35: The Echoes of a Shattered Mirror
The transition from the clanging iron of Aethelgard to the Fourth Gate was terrifyingly silent. There was no flash of light, no violent shudder—only a slow, creeping sensation of being submerged in cold, thick ink. When the vision of Cyan and his Goddesses cleared, they were no longer standing on a bridge of light.
They were standing in a world of mist.
This was Psithur, the Gate of Whispers. There were no gears here, no prisms, no physical landmarks. The ground was a dark, reflective liquid that rippled not with footsteps, but with thoughts. The sky was a pale, sickly grey, and from the mist came a thousand voices—some weeping, some laughing, all of them familiar.
[System Warning: Entering High-Level Mental Domain.]
[Status: Perception is Compromised. The System cannot verify reality in this sector.]
[Condition: Your 'Sins' are the only compass.]
"Master... I can hear them," Isabella whispered, her hands pressing against her temples. Her emerald aura was flickering wildly. "The voices of the scholars I betrayed... the students I led to their deaths for the sake of your rise. They're calling me a monster."
"Don't listen, Isabella!" Clara shouted, though her own voice was trembling. "It's a trick of the Architects!"
But the mist was already separating them. Despite standing only a few feet apart, they were becoming ghosts to each other. One by one, the Goddesses disappeared into their own personal hells.
Cyan stood alone. He didn't call out to them. He knew that in the Gate of Whispers, a King's greatest enemy is not a monster, but the man he used to be.
The mist in front of him shifted, taking the form of a young man with golden hair and a warm, naive smile. It was the old Cyan—the one with the Saint's Heart, the one who believed in justice and love.
"Look at what you've built," the ghost of the old Cyan said, gesturing to the void. "A throne made of corpses. A legacy of corruption. Do you even remember the girl you loved? Or is she just another 'Core' in your collection?"
Cyan's purple eye glowed with a dangerous light. "You were weak. You were a victim who died in the Abyss. I am the result of your failure."
"Are you?" The ghost stepped closer. "Or are you just a scared boy wearing a mask of obsidian? You talk about 'freeing the world,' but all you've done is replace one cage with another. The Architects gave you a System, and you followed its path perfectly. You are their greatest success, Cyan. Not their enemy."
The words were like poison, seeping into Cyan's mind. For a moment, his [Law-Breaker] skill flickered. The doubt was real. Had he truly rebelled, or was his "Corruption" just another pre-programmed route within the game?
Suddenly, the mist screamed.
From the shadows of Cyan's own heart, a figure emerged. It wasn't the old Cyan, and it wasn't a goddess. it was Lyra, but not as the bridge of light. She was covered in the dark-gold ichor of her sacrifice, her eyes vacant and hollow.
"It hurts, Cyan," she whispered, her voice a chorus of agony. "The bridge is cold. Why did you leave me there? Why did you keep walking?"
Cyan felt a physical pain in his chest—a localized collapse of his mana. The Gate was using his guilt as a weapon to dismantle his physical form.
[Mental Integrity: 15% - CRITICAL.]
[System Note: Host is losing the 'Will to Exist'.]
"I left you there... because I had to," Cyan choked out, falling to one knee. The dark liquid on the ground began to rise, wrapping around his legs like shackles. "I had to... because the world... it was broken..."
"And you broke it more," the ghost of Lyra said, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek. Her touch felt like freezing needles. "Give up, Cyan. Let the mist take you. Let us be together in the silence."
Cyan looked up. In that moment of absolute despair, he didn't see a god or a system. He saw the truth of the Gate of Whispers. It wasn't showing him his past; it was showing him his fear of the future.
He began to laugh—a low, dark, and terrifying sound that caused the mist to recoil.
"You're right," Cyan said, standing up despite the weight of the shadows. "I am a monster. I am a betrayer. I am a king who sacrificed the only light he ever loved."
He grabbed the ghost of Lyra by the throat. "But that is why I am the only one who can do this. The Architects don't understand 'Guilt'. To them, it's just an error code. But to me... it's the fire that keeps me moving."
Cyan unleashed his mana, but it wasn't a blast of energy. It was a wave of Pure, Unfiltered Sin. He embraced the guilt, the pain, and the darkness, and instead of letting them break him, he used them as fuel.
[Skill Evolved: Sovereign's Remorse - The Unbreakable Will.]
The ghost of Lyra shattered. The old Cyan vanished. The mist was ripped apart by a violet shockwave that cleared the entire floor.
Cyan found his Goddesses. They were all on the ground, weeping or catatonic, lost in their own whispers. He walked to each of them, placing his hand on their foreheads and sharing his "Remorse"—the strength to accept their sins and keep moving.
"Wake up," Cyan commanded, his voice a bell of absolute authority. "The past is a graveyard. We don't live there anymore."
One by one, they rose. Their eyes were bloodshot, but their spirits were now tempered like steel. They had faced the worst parts of themselves and survived.
In the center of the mist, the Core of the Fourth Gate appeared—a grey, pulsing brain-like structure. It was defenseless. The Gate of Whispers relied entirely on the victim's own mind; it had no physical strength of its own.
Cyan walked to the Core and crushed it with his bare hand.
[System Notification: The Fourth Gate - EXTINGUISHED.]
[Core of Psithur Acquired.]
[New Skill Unlocked: 'Echo of the Void' - You can now manifest the fears of your enemies into physical reality.]
The mist vanished, revealing the bridge of light again. It felt stronger now, more stable.
"Master," Isabella said, her voice shaking but firm. "I saw... I saw things I can never forget."
"Good," Cyan said, looking toward the Fifth Gate. "Memory is a burden, but it is also a weapon. We have eight gates left. They've tried to break our bodies, our logic, and our minds. Now, they will try to break our unity."
He looked at the four of them. They were no longer just subordinates; they were survivors of a mental apocalypse.
"Let's move," Cyan said. "The Fifth Gate is the Gate of Trials. No more whispers. No more puzzles. Only blood."