The flesh ocean was shrinking.
Not retreating not calming but collapsing inward, as if some vast, unseen lung had begun to exhale after holding its breath for too long. Waves of pale muscle and glistening tissue folded into themselves, sinking, thinning, revealing more of the fractured mirror beneath. The sound it made was wet and wrong, like a thousand mouths swallowing at once.
Above it, three figures climbed.
There were no stairs.
No structure.
No path that should have existed.
Yet they ascended all the same, feet planting on nothing, weight carried by laws that did not belong to this world. With every step, the distance between them and the flesh sea grew meaningless, as though "up" and "down" had agreed to pretend for a while.
The man in front walked with ease.
Blue hair fell loosely around his shoulders, untouched by wind. His staff long, pale, etched with faint lines that shifted when not directly observed tapped lightly with each step, though there was nothing to strike. His green eyes wandered freely, taking in the collapsing sea, the trembling air, the broken reflections floating like dead stars.
Wonder softened his expression.
"This," he said lightly, almost fondly, "is what people fail to understand."
The two figures behind him said nothing.
Both wore cloaks the color of deep ash, hoods drawn low. Their faces were hidden, not by shadow, but by something thicker an absence that swallowed detail. They climbed in silence, steps measured, attention forward.
The blue-haired man glanced back at them, smiling.
"You see ruins," he continued. "A test. A battlefield. A relic left behind by pillars and creations. But this place was never meant to be reduced to function."
They passed another invisible step. The air shimmered faintly, as if offended by their presence.
"The Trials of the Gods," he said, voice warming, "were not built to give power. They were built to remember it."
The cloaked figures did not respond.
The man didn't seem to mind.
"People say the pillars created these trials," he went on. "That they are mechanisms. Filters. Selection engines." His staff traced a small arc through the air, and for a moment symbols flared and vanished. "Convenient lies. Easier to digest."
They climbed higher. The shattered mirror sky loomed closer, massive fragments suspended like frozen waves of glass. Each shard reflected a different angle of the world flesh, flame, palace, void none agreeing on what was real.
"One god," the man said softly, "made this."
They reached the first layer of mirror.
One of the cloaked figures a man, judging by build reached out, fingers brushing a shard. His hand passed through it without resistance, like mist.
The blue-haired man chuckled quietly. "Reflections," he said. "Not walls."
He stepped forward and did the same, his body slipping through the broken mirror sky as though it were water. The others followed, cloaks rippling once before settling again.
On the other side, the floating palace revealed itself fully.
It was enormous vast terraces, arching bridges, towering halls all formed from mirror and light. Every surface reflected something else, layering reality over itself until depth became uncertain. The palace did not float so much as hover, anchored by no visible force, as though the sky itself had agreed to hold it.
The blue-haired man paused, gazing up at it with unmistakable admiration.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Even now."
He resumed climbing, invisible steps carrying them toward the palace gates. As they approached, the air thickened, humming with restrained power.
"Most scholars argue these places aren't real," he continued conversationally. "That they're projections. Mental realms. Constructs bound to the challenger." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter what they think. Reality isn't defined by consensus."
They reached the gate.
There was no resistance.
The blue-haired man walked straight through, as if the mirrored doors were nothing more than fog. The cloaked figures followed, their forms briefly warping as reflection tried and failed to claim them.
***
Far below.
Below the floating reflections.
Below the shattered mirror sky.
Below the thinning flesh ocean.
Another mirror surface stretched wide, its glassy expanse once holding the sea above like a lid on a nightmare. Now it was cracked split by force, by intrusion, by something that refused to remain contained.
And beneath that broken mirror lay another palace.
This one did not reflect.
Stone, metal, crystal real materials, heavy with age and presence. Its walls bore scars. Its towers stood firm. It did not shimmer or distort.
This was not an image.
This was the thing being copied.
At its gates, chaos reigned.
A colossal flesh fish hovered before the entrance, its bulk filling the space like a living catastrophe. Five faces stared from its mass, each one different some screaming, some smiling, some expressionless. Tentacles writhed from its body, slamming into the palace walls again and again, releasing elemental fury with every strike.
Mist.
Water.
Wind.
Ice.
Erosion.
The palace endured.
Inside, deeper than any hall meant for visitors, there was a room sealed from symmetry and light.
A mirror-floored chamber.
An altar of liquid reflection.
And a man pressed into the ground as though the world itself wished to erase him.
Kai.
His body was pinned, bones grinding against mirror-stone, muscles locked in defiance. Pressure bore down from above not crushing, not frantic, but absolute. Like a command rather than a force.
Beside him stood the guardian.
Humanoid.
Silent.
Made entirely of living mirror.
It reflected Kai perfectly his posture, his wounds, his tension yet its eyes were empty of struggle. Its core glowed with pure essence, steady and unwavering, a presence that did not need to prove itself.
Kai breathed through clenched teeth.
The palace trembled as another impact landed above.
Boom.
Dust drifted from the ceiling like falling stars.
The trial was still unfolding.
Above, intruders walked where no stairs existed.
Below, a beast hammered at reality.
And between them, Kai Valeria remained pressed to the ground caught in the narrow space where gods tested, monsters raged, and something far older had begun to watch.