The passage closing behind them left no dust.
It left absence.
Arthur only noticed after a few steps — when the air stopped vibrating, when the echo of their own movements failed to return the way it should. The Mountain was no longer reacting. It did not answer. It simply… existed.
Mia walked beside him in silence, leaning slightly whenever the terrain grew uneven. She still looked fragile, as if she had just awakened from something her body had not fully followed. Her gaze wandered, lingering too long on shadows that did not move.
— Do you feel it too? — she asked.
Arthur took a moment to answer.
— What?
She drew a breath, searching for words.
— It's like… something happened to me. — She touched her chest lightly. — I don't remember what. But it feels like a piece is missing.
Arthur felt his stomach tighten.
It was the same premonition that had followed him since he woke in the hall. The feeling that something essential had been torn away — not from memory, but from somewhere deeper, where memories had not yet taken shape.
— Maybe it's just the shock — he said, without conviction. — We fell. Got separated. The Mountain messes with people's minds.
She nodded, but she did not look convinced.
For a brief instant, Arthur almost said her name again.
He stopped himself.
He could not explain why.
They kept walking.
The path ahead was not the one they had entered through. The walls seemed less solid, as if they had been hastily redrawn. Some ancient inscriptions had vanished. Others appeared incomplete, like interrupted thoughts.
Arthur brushed his hand over one of them — he felt only cold stone.
Nothing answered.
That unsettled him more than any tremor.
— The Mountain stopped talking to me — he murmured, not realizing he was thinking out loud.
Mia stopped.
— Talking… how?
He hesitated.
— Not with words. — He frowned. — Before, it was like… intuition. Like I knew where to go. Now there's nothing. Not wrong. Not right.
She looked down the corridor ahead.
— Maybe that's a good thing.
Arthur didn't reply.
It didn't feel good.
It felt… too empty.
They reached a wider gallery, where natural light filtered in through high fissures. The silence there was heavy, ancient. Arthur had the strange impression that the space hadn't existed before — as if it had been created solely for them to pass through.
And that made him quicken his pace.
---
In another layer of the Mountain, Alexius stopped abruptly.
The group nearly collided with him.
— Sensei? — Ichika asked.
He didn't answer right away. His hand rested against the wall, fingers pressed to symbols that once reacted to touch. Now there was no warmth. No vibration. No resistance.
— This isn't right… — he murmured.
— What is it? — Sora asked, already summoning ice by reflex.
Alexius stepped away from the wall, scanning the surroundings with renewed attention.
The corridor ahead split into three paths.
None of them had been there before.
— The Mountain used to guide us — he said quietly. — Even when it was hostile, it guided us. Now… it only allows.
— Allows what? — Kensha asked.
Alexius closed his eyes for a second.
— That we choose wrong.
A distant echo crossed the gallery — not deep, not grave like before. It was short. Dry. Like something repositioning itself far away.
It didn't feel like a threat.
It felt like an adjustment.
— Arthur… — Alexius murmured. — What did you do down there?
No one answered.
Yet instinctively, they all felt it — the Mountain no longer revolved around them.
Something had shifted its center.
— We move on — he said at last. — But carefully. The seal still exists… it just no longer recognizes us as a priority.
No one argued.
And for the first time since entering Mount Arf, Alexius could not tell whether he was guiding the group — or merely following what remained of an old path.
---
Far below, in narrow, poorly lit corridors, Kidero stopped walking.
Ayame nearly ran into him.
— Keep moving — she snapped. — What is it now?
Kidero didn't answer.
He was listening.
The sound didn't come from all sides.
It came from behind.
Clac.
A single click.
Then… silence.
— Did you hear that? — Kazuko asked, his hand tightening around his sword hilt.
— Hear what? — Ayame shot back.
Shirō closed his eyes, concentrating.
— It's not ambient sound — he said at last. — It's moving.
Kidero smirked.
— Finally.
He turned halfway around, staring into the dark corridor they had passed through. Flames flickered along his blade, unstable, reacting not to the space — but to him.
— Whatever it is… it's not just watching anymore.
Clac.
Closer.
This time, Ayame heard it.
— That's not normal — she murmured.
— No — Shirō agreed. — And it's not the Guardian either.
Silence stretched again.
No shadow attacked.
Nothing emerged.
But the corridor behind them seemed… narrower.
As if it were slowly closing in.
— We keep moving — Kidero said, turning back around. — If it's following us, it'll have to show itself eventually.
They advanced.
And behind them, something began to match the rhythm of their steps.
Unhurried.
Without clear intent.
Like something that knows the time has not yet come.
---
Far above — too high to be called sky, too deep to be called space — something shifted.
It did not awaken.
It did not move by its own will.
It merely reacted.
A minimal change, almost irrelevant to any ordinary observer.
But enough to alter trajectories.
Mount Arf remained still.
Yet in its recent silence, it was no longer observing alone.
And somewhere outside the proper flow of time, an ancient piece was placed back onto the board — not to act yet, but to be present when the next mistake was made.