Eirian realized these were illusionary tricks and grew serious. "They're fake. Nothing happened exactly like this," he muttered.
He shook his head and spoke aloud, his voice cutting through the valley's whispers. "It's useless. The valley may create realistic illusions from a person's mind and emotions, but it can't replicate memories perfectly. These are just vague imitations."
His gaze locked onto the nearest statue, his tone icy. "Stop. You can't trick me with these."
The first statue laughed—a sound like cracking glaciers—and soon, the others joined in, their mocking voices overlapping in an eerie chorus. The temperature plummeted, frost creeping across the ground in jagged patterns.
Eirian's grip tightened on his sword. If these are just illusions, why does the cold feel so real?
Eirian launched himself at the first statue, swinging his blade with full power - but the statue didn't even move a single step.
The statue looked down at him mockingly and, as Eirian came within striking distance, drove a crushing fist into his chest. "You possess only Emberflesh Realm cultivation," it sneered. "Too weak!"
Eirian staggered back several steps, coughing up blood from the impact. His chest felt like it might explode from the immense pain, and worse - he could feel some strange aura of hunger seeping into his body from where the punch had landed.
Eirian wiped the blood from his lips, his fingers trembling—not from fear, but from the hunger gnawing at his chest where the statue's fist had landed. It wasn't just pain. It was as if something inside him had been emptied, devoured by that single strike.
Eirian's mind raced as he clutched his wounded chest. Should I flee? Or... The thought coiled like a serpent in his mind, should I find another way to uncover this valley's secrets?
His fingers trembled against the cold ground - not just from pain, but from the bitter taste of his own limitations. The statue's mocking words echoed in his skull: "Too weak." They stung because they were true.
Yet beneath the humiliation, a spark of stubborn defiance flickered. Running would mean accepting defeat. But charging blindly forward is just suicide. He gritted his teeth, tasting blood and iron resolve. There must be another path. The valley tests me, yes... but every test has a solution.
The statue loomed over him, its crystalline face twisting into a smile. "Pathetic. An Emberflesh Realm cultivator daring to challenge the valley's trials?"
Around them, the other statues stirred, their hollow eyes flickering with the same sickly green flame as the skeletal hare from before. Eirian's mind raced.
"You're not just illusions," he muttered.
The statue's laughter deepened, the sound like ice splitting under pressure. "We are the Sentinel beings. The valley's teeth. And you..." It leaned closer, its breath carrying the scent of frozen graves. "You are a morsel."
Eirian's mind raced, searching for another path past the statues - some weakness, some pattern he could exploit. But before he could formulate a plan, movement flashed in his peripheral vision.
The second statue attacked from the left, its fist wreathed in eerie green light as it unleashed some unknown technique.
Eirian barely had time to react - he threw himself into a desperate roll just as the glowing fist tore through the space where his head had been. The statue's foot slammed down instead, cratering the ground where he'd lain.
Frost radiated outward in jagged tendrils, spider webbing across the earth.
He trembled, a cold realization seizing him. They're real.. real enough to kill me!
His blade was useless—the first strike had proven that. His cultivation, laughably weak in comparison. But the valley didn't design trials without solutions. There was always a trick. A weakness.
Eirian's gaze darted to his surroundings as he remembered his first glimpse of this place—
The bridge of bone at the center, leading west, even if it is an illusion it doesn't matter anymore. A desperate idea sparked in his mind. What if that's the key? The way to escape these statues?
He quickly assessed his options. The statues had him surrounded—blocking his path ahead and to the left. A reckless charge would mean death, especially with his pitiful Emberflesh cultivation. But their mocking slowness betrayed their arrogance; they didn't see him as a threat.
That's my advantage.
Gritting his teeth, Eirian prepared to sprint toward the distant bridge. If he timed it perfectly, their contempt might just buy him the seconds he needed to survive.
Despite his injuries, Eirian launched himself at the second statue, his movements fluid with a desperate hand-and-leg combat technique.
With a roar, he unleashed his signature strike: "Fire-Bleeding Star!"
Green fire erupted from his fist—a swirling fusion of celestial heat and scorching embers—clashing directly with the statue's eerie green-light punch. The collision detonated with a thunderous, boom..!!, cracking the earth beneath them and sending up a gust of superheated wind.
Now!
Eirian didn't hesitate. He sprinted toward the bridge of bone, his body screaming in protest. Behind him, the second statue staggered, its hollow eyes widening. "Little boy… you do have some skill," it rasped before lunging after him.
But another statue had noticed. "Stop him!" it bellowed, its voice like grinding stone. "He's heading for the bridge!"
The valley erupted into chaos. Attacks rained down from all directions—Meteor Fall, Ground Shaker, techniques meant to obliterate. Eirian wove through the onslaught, but even his dodges were graceless; searing pain lanced through his side as a glancing blow tore at his ribs.
I have to make it—or I'm dead.
Just as the bridge loomed within reach, a final, devastating strike slammed into his back. The impact hurled him through the air—not toward the bridge, but into the lake of liquid fire.
Eirian's scream tore through the valley: "NO—!"
Before he could react, the searing heat of the liquid fire lake rushed up to meet him. As the flames licked at his body, time seemed to stretch he closed his eyes and—his life flashing before his mind.
Memories surged:
- The shock of awakening in this Dust Realm*
- Dris's rough smile as they sparred under twin moons*
- Dain's quiet wisdom over shared campfires*
- His mother's still face in death and how she has given him her Soulbrand, and the oath he'd carved into his soul—to conquer death itself
Then, the phoenix mark on his forehead blazed to life, crimson as a newborn star.
The statues watched from the shore, their hollow eyes narrowing as Eirian plunged beneath the molten surface. The fire roared, twisting into a vortex where he'd disappeared.
"Disappointing," rasped the lead statue, turning away, his expression one of cruel indifference "We should have peeled his flesh slowly."
Silence swallowed the valley—but deep in the fire's heart, something, stirred.
The statues froze mid-step, their hollow eyes snapping toward the lake. Something was wrong. One took an involuntary step back. Another raised its arms defensively, as if instinctively shielding itself.
Beneath the molten surface, Eirian's body glowed with crimson light—the phoenix mark on his forehead blazing like a miniature sun. Strange warmth enveloped him; the fire that should have devoured flesh instead cradled him like a womb.
Visions flickered at the edges of his consciousness:
- A woman's voice, soft yet frayed with pain: "My son... carry this fire further than I could..."
- The shadow of a great phoenix, its wings spanning the universe.
Power stirred in his core—raw and primordial, yet frustratingly indistinct, like trying to grasp smoke.
Then the voice came. Ancient. Huskier than crumbling parchment:
"You passed the Trial of Flesh. Now faces the Trial of Memory. Fail... and your soul shatters like glass."
When Eirian opened his eyes, he lay in a shattered hall. Time had gnawed at its pillars; dust swirled where tapestries once hung.
He touched his unburned skin, voice hoarse: "I lived? What nightmare is this now?"
.
Note from the Author:
I'm a new writer—still learning, still growing. If I chase perfection, I'll never finish. So I choose consistency. Thank you for reading my imperfect journey. Your support means more than you know. 💛