The moment Sylas shouted, the stone reacted.
The floating sphere above the throne began to glow violently, its surface cracking with veins of blinding light. The air trembled, pressure flooding the chamber like a rising tide. Ancient runes along the walls ignited one by one, responding as if awakened from a long slumber.
The captain staggered.
His grip on his weapon loosened. His eyes rolled back—and he collapsed to the stone floor.
"Captain!" the princess cried, rushing toward him.
Before she could reach his side, his body twitched.
Slowly—unnaturally—he rose to his feet.
When his eyes opened again, they were no longer the captain's.
They were ancient.
Cold.
Filled with a depth that crushed the air around them.
The man flexed his fingers, examining them with calm fascination. "Hmm…" he murmured. "So this is what flesh feels like after all this time."
He looked around the hall, his gaze lingering on the throne, the skeleton, the shattered runes.
"How long?" he asked aloud. "How much time has passed?"
The princess stepped back, trembling. Her hand shook as she reached for her weapon. "W-who are you?" she demanded. "What did you do to him?"
The man turned to her slowly.
A hollow laugh echoed through the chamber.
"My name?" he said softly. "I had many. But people feared me enough to give me a title."
He placed a hand over his chest—over the captain's heart.
"They called me the Psyche Lord."
The princess's breath caught.
"Why… why are you inside his body?" she asked, her voice shaking. "What do you want?"
The Psyche Lord laughed again—low, empty, amused.
"I'm in a good mood today, little girl," he said. "So I'll answer."
He gestured toward the glowing sphere hovering above the throne.
"I was called the Psyche Lord because I possessed a skill that allowed me to experiment on souls," he continued casually, as if discussing simple research. "You already know that every person awakens only one skill. A cruel limitation, don't you think?"
The stone pulsed brighter.
"I discovered the truth," he said. "A skill is bound to the soul. One soul—one skill. Absolute. Unbreakable."
He smiled.
"So I tried to break it."
The princess felt her knees weaken.
"I experimented," he went on, pacing slowly. "Again and again. Thousands of failures. Countless deaths. All meaningless."
His eyes gleamed.
"Until I realized the solution."
He stopped and pointed toward the sphere.
"If one soul is the limit… then simply obtain another."
The hall fell silent.
"But humans cannot naturally contain two souls," the Psyche Lord said. "So I created a method. A process. A vessel capable of enduring the impossible."
The sphere flared violently.
"And now," he said softly, satisfaction dripping from his voice, "I possess two souls within this body."
He clenched his fist.
"Which means I can finally awaken a second skill—the one I spent my entire existence creating."
In the shadows of the chamber, Sylas stood frozen.
Every word struck him like a hammer.
The headaches.
The memories.
The pain that had torn him apart since birth.
Two souls.
His vision darkened.
This place… this experiment…
Then the Psyche Lord turned.
His gaze landed on Sylas.
For the first time, his smile widened—not amused.
Interested.
Fascinated.
Sylas felt it instantly.
He was no longer an observer.
He was in danger.
Behind him—the Tier Six monster still hunted, relentless and patient.
Before him—an ancient monster far worse, one who had defied the laws of the soul itself.
Sylas stood between two horrors.
And for the first time since entering the trial, fear crept into his heart.