"Archeeew!" Elias sneezed, eyes half-lidded as he slowly blinked into consciousness.
"Where… the hell am I?" he mumbled, rubbing his face, groaning as he tried to sit up. Pain shot through his waist, and he gritted his teeth, refusing to let a scream escape.
"Dammit… six broken ribs, a busted nose, both arms probably jammed, and my eyes—half blind without these damn glasses. Any stray Echoform just wandering by? Yeah… that's it. Game over for my stupid ass," he muttered, teeth clenched.
He lifted his head and scanned his surroundings. Instantly, he bit down on his lower lip so hard he swore it might bleed, fighting the urge to scream like a toddler.
The hallway before him… goodness. The walls were lined with statues. Hundreds of them. Each one scary enough to give a sweet old lady on her weekly grocery run a heart attack.
Some had multiple heads twisted into grotesque, impossible expressions. Others were covered in countless goggly eyes, and Elias could feel them crawling under his skin.
And then there were the truly "different" ones—shapes so wrong, so alien, that no human language could even begin to capture the horror.
And they all had one thing in common.
Their mouths—or whatever could pass for one—were all hung open.
Like they were… screaming.
Elias sucked in a sharp breath, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He forced himself to breathe slowly, deeply. Calm down, me, he told himself, the shaking in his limbs easing—just a little.
"How can I, the greatest and most humble aspiring Chordbearer alive, be scared to death by a pile of stones?" he scoffed, forcing a grin. "Joke's on you, suckers."
The words helped. A bit. His chest loosened, his courage crawling back inch by inch.
He walked toward one particularly nasty-looking statue—an absolute mess of creatures mashed together. Birdlike wings jutted from its back, its limbs were reptilian, and its face… well, human felt like a very generous description.
Lifting his still-trembling leg, Elias gave the statue a gentle kick on the knee.
Tap.
The sound echoed down the hallway.
The statue didn't move.
"Ha. Just as I thought," Elias said, relief flooding his face.
Then his expression twisted. "You bastard. You really made this daddy lose face?"
He raised his leg again.
"You're in serious need of a good whipping."
This time, he kicked harder. Once. Twice. Several times, all in the same spot, the dull thuds bouncing off the walls.
Finally, he stepped back and let out a long, petty sigh of satisfaction.
"Fuck you, ugly face. Just for today, I'll let you off with minor bruises," Elias snorted. "But next time you get on my nerves, you're leaving one of your legs behind, jerk."
He was just turning away when something made his steps stutter.
A shift. Barely noticeable.
He would've written it off as his imagination—if the statue's eyes weren't already rolling sideways, slowly locking onto him.
A cold chill raced down Elias's spine. His mind froze for half a second. His body didn't wait for permission.
He bolted.
"It's all that Echoling's fault!" Elias shouted as he ran, the edges of his vision blurring, his eyes burning with unshed tears. His fists clenched tight, legs pumping like his life depended on it—because it probably did. "After I'm done with that bastard of a Chordbearer, I'll come for you! So don't you dare die!"
And then—
The dim passageway lit up.
Every statue in the hallway turned its head toward him.
All at once.
Their eyes gleamed in the pale light, hollow and knowing. Almost… mocking.
Elias shuddered, nearly tripping over the uneven floor, but he didn't stop running—why the hell would he?
The exit was at the far end of the hall: a double set of obsidian doors. The problem? Rows and rows of nightmarish statues blocked the path, and every single one of them was staring at him.
"Wretches! What else can you do if not stare!" he growled through gritted teeth, face twisting in a grimace.
Then it happened.
The statues' open mouths warped sideways in what had to be some horrible imitation of a grin. Their eyes rolled unnaturally, their twisted smiles mocking him. It was a sight capable of killing any grandpa already clinging to life.
A sudden rush of air slammed into him—silent, dismissive—but the emptiness that followed told him he had been attacked. And judging by those eyes… he didn't need to see to know what had hit him.
"Ugh… me and my damn mouth." That was the last thing he said before his voice was ripped away.
He hit the ground flat on his face, heart hammering like a war drum. This time, the fear wasn't about the statues—it was about what they were doing to him.
He couldn't feel his body anymore. Even his legs—the only part that had been usable—felt alien, detached, like his soul had been wrenched out.
And the worst what it was doing to his mind.
Memories started slipping away, floating just out of reach, like smoke that refused to stay contained. No matter how hard he clawed to hold on, they kept escaping, leaving him hollow, terrified, and utterly powerless.
NO! NO! NO! Elias's mind screamed, panic crawling through every nerve.
He could feel it slipping. It was only a matter of time before he forgot himself completely.
With the last shards of sanity he had left, he clung to consciousness, desperately holding on.
Then, a cursed memory forced its way through—one that had been just about to vanish.
***
"Elias, there's something I have to tell you," Sebastian said, eyes fixed on the city below from the school rooftop. In the background, the faint strains of violins and a guitar drifted from the Elementary Symphony School—a familiar sound, comforting and distant at once.
Elias looked up from his tablet, pausing the game he was mid-way through with an annoyed frown. "This better be important. I was just about to win another level in Royal Dungeon Quest, and you had to stop my locked-in mode."
Sebastian rolled his eyes and gave Elias a playful hit on the chest. "You suck so bad at this that you've been stuck on the same quest for three weeks. Weren't you locked in, what, three hours ago?"
Elias gritted his teeth. "This time it's different. I could feel it—I was close, okay."
Sebastian scoffed. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, genius."
Elias resisted the urge to start a fight. He knew he'd get wrecked—Sebastian was way stronger now. "Say what's on your mind, and you've got thirty seconds before I decide if it's even worth listening to."
Sebastian stayed silent, face draining of color, as if whatever he was about to say was ripping all the strength from him. His trembling hand rose slightly, then dropped, shaking his head. "You know what, just forget I said anything."
Elias raised an eyebrow at his best friend's odd behavior, but before he could comment, the doors burst open. Miya, his girlfriend, glided in.
Her sky-blue uniform did nothing to hide her curves, her slender waist moving with a quiet, graceful allure. She strutted over with that smile of hers, flicking her brown hair sideways in a way only she could.
Elias stood to hug her, but she slid away with a scoff. Without hesitation, she attached herself to Sebastian. He didn't resist, and her hands wrapped around his waist as she rested her head against his chest.
Elias looked down at his empty hands, then back at Sebastian, then at Miya. He knew she liked to play around, but this… this felt a little too inappropriate, even for her.
"Miya, that's enough. You're making Sebastian uncomfortable," Elias said, reaching to pull her back by the hand.
But Miya did something that stole his breath.
She turned to Sebastian, cupped his face gently in her hands, and kissed him.
It wasn't casual. It was long, intense, and charged, their lips and tongues entwining as if trying to erase restraint. Elias watched, every second a brutal dagger to his chest, feeling one of the most agonizing moments of his life unfold in front of him.
When they finally pulled away and faced him, Elias didn't tremble, didn't rage, didn't crumble. He was calm. So calm that even he was a little surprised.
He simply asked, expression blank, "For how long has this been going on?"
"Elia—" Sebastian started, guilt written across his face, but a finger pressed to his lips by Miya silenced him.
"Listen, Elias," Miya said, eyes flicking over him with a mix of disgust and annoyance. "I know this is a lot for you to take in. Sebastian and I love each other. We tried to fight it because of you, but the spark between us… it wasn't something either of us could control. But don't worry—Sebastian will compensate you adequately. You won't lose out much."
Elias clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch the bitch through the teeth. "Answer. The. Freaking. Question."
She studied her fingers, as if looking at him was a burden. "Ever since he awakened, I guess."
Elias laughed, dragging a hand down his hair in frustration. "How fucking convenient."
"Elia—" Sebastian stammered. "I love her."
Elias's reddened eyes locked on him, caught somewhere between disbelief and fury. "What do you want me to say? Congratulations for cucking your best friend?"
Sebastian looked down, his face tightening as if he had just swallowed something bitter.
Miya glared at Elias, hugging Sebastian tightly and planting another possessive kiss on him. Then she turned back to Elias, whose expression looked like he had just lost his soul. A smug grin spread across her face.
"Let's be candid, Elias," she said, voice dripping with venom. "How do you compare to Sebastian, and why do you think you're worthy enough to keep the title of his best friend? Delusional. From the moment he awakened, you've been nothing. A nobody. Trash, by his side. Why would I tie myself to someone like you when there's Sebastian, who's more than capable of protecting me?"
"That's enough, Miya," Sebastian yelled, shutting her down. He turned to Elias, who looked like he had just been through hell and back in the last few seconds.
"Listen, man," Sebastian said, voice strained, "I know what I did was horrible. Not cool at all. Ask me for anything, Elias, and I'll try to make it happen—even if it means getting you another girl—"
Elias turned and started walking away, his steps empty, lifeless.
"Elias," Sebastian called after him, but he didn't stop. He reached the door, opened it, and stepped out—leaving behind what had to be one of the most traumatic moments of his life.
***
Elias's body on the ground twitched, unmoving. His eyes, empty moments ago, began to redden as he fought for control, for influence over a memory he could not afford to lose.
That memory was his motivation.
It was his resolve.
Traumatic, yes, but necessary.
Every drop of willpower in his veins surged as he wrestled back control of his body, of the weakness that had bound him in this nightmarish place of self-degradation.
He couldn't think anymore—not with his mind corroded by the soundless attack. But instincts remained, instincts that fueled his will and directed it to muscles he could no longer feel.
And slowly, he began to feel them.
A vein throbbed on his forehead, but he pushed on. His left leg moved first, standing shakily before he fell again—this time to his knees instead of face-first.
He screamed at the mental coercion, voiceless, fighting the urge to give in. Slowly, painfully, he began to rise on one knee, trudging toward the door.
He screamed.
He shouted.
But he didn't stop. He couldn't. Refusing was the only option.
He had stopped feeling long ago. The emptiness had devoured him from the inside. Yet his knees didn't falter. His resolve didn't break. It was as if his body remembered something his mind had forgotten—an instinct carved deep into his bones: keep moving.
Elias didn't even notice when he reached the obsidian doors. He couldn't have, even if he wanted to.
It was only when he stepped through and escaped the statues' mental grip that the memories returned in a flood. His voice came back. The feeling in his body returned. Everything returned.
Coughing from his sore throat, Elias shot to his feet and cast a wary glance around the place.
His knees buckled. He dropped to the ground again.
Because this wasn't just a room. It was a realm.
Hundreds of thousands of statues bowed toward an empty throne, raised high on a platform of golden stairs. The sky above held no moon, no sun—only flames, crimson and burning, casting both light and searing heat across the ground below.
The statues alone weren't enough to make him lose his mind.
It was the Mirroths. Thousands of them. Each one glowing from red to cyan grade, and some in colors he didn't even recognize, floating through the realm.
And that shouldn't have been possible.
Because there had never been a record of even a single Mirrorth inside another realm, let alone thousands.
Elias's brain struggled to process it all. His chest tightened. His mind screamed at him.
I'm completely screwed.
"Maybe I should go back," Elias muttered, heart hammering in his chest. "Maybe test my luck and look for another exit out of this forsaken place."
He didn't have to think for long.
Right in front of him, the knight-like Echoform closest to the throne shifted its head. Six glowing red eyes pierced through the visor of its helmet, locking onto him.
Elias froze, petrified—not by choice, but by the suffocating, blood-curdling pressure that held him in place.
Then the knight opened its mouth. No words came out. And yet… Elias understood. Somehow. The sheer impossibility of it sent chills straight through him.
Ascend the stairs leading to the void and claim the throne of the end, or refuse and perish. But beware: not all who climb this path reach the very end, for the throne of silence only finds the worthy.
Elias rubbed his forehead, resisting the urge to scream or curse. He muttered under his breath, voice tight with disbelief, "What in your damn mind makes you think this is even a choice…"