Echoes of the Lost Elf

Chapter: Trial of the Mind

The dungeon grounds were a vast underground facility beneath Castellas Academy, illuminated by faintly glowing crystals embedded in the walls. The air was cold, damp, and carried a sense of foreboding as if something unseen lurked within the shadows.

Hundreds of students stood at the edge of a massive iron gate, shifting nervously as they awaited their turn. The Trial of the Mind was the first part of their practical examination, a test designed to challenge one's mental resilience.

The rules were simple: Each team must traverse the dungeon's corridor and reach the exit within a set time limit. However, the specifics of the trial were a mystery.

Group 1 entered, disappearing beyond the iron gate. Minutes passed.

Then—12 minutes and 28 seconds later—they stumbled out, dazed and disoriented, unable to recall what had occurred inside.

Murmurs spread through the gathered students.

"What happened?""Did they fight monsters?""Why don't they remember anything?"

Group five entered. They emerged in 10 minutes, looking slightly shaken.

The third team took 13 minutes and seemed fine.

The fourth team entered. The timer passed 15 minutes. They still had not returned.

Whispers turned to panic.

"They aren't coming out!""What's going on in there?"

After another minute, Professor Varian, one of the academy instructors, frowned and stepped forward. A veteran mage specializing in illusion and mind magic, he knew that something had gone wrong. Without hesitation, he vanished into the dungeon.

When he returned, he carried several unconscious students, his expression grim.

"They passed out from shock," he announced, his voice calm but firm.''They'll be fine after some rest"

It was now Group Three's turn.

Historias, Adriana, Kael, and Zephyr exchanged glances before stepping forward. Their footsteps echoed through the chamber as they entered the hallway, the heavy iron doors slamming shut behind them.

The passage ahead was long and dimly lit, lined with worn stone walls covered in strange, shifting patterns. An unnatural stillness filled the air, thick and suffocating, as though they had stepped into a place untouched by time.

Then, the first scream shattered the silence.

Adriana's.

She recoiled, her eyes wide with terror. "Get them off! Get them off!" she shrieked.

The others turned and froze. A writhing mass of cockroaches and spiders swarmed toward them, their countless legs skittering against the stone. Adriana instinctively conjured a Fire Lance and hurled it forward, but the flames fizzled out the moment they made contact with the creatures.

"What the hell?!" Zephyr recoiled.

"Burn them!" Adriana shrieked, flinging a Fire Lance at the mass of insects.

The flames vanished upon impact. The creatures remained.

"What the hell, Adriana! Who casts fire magic in a confined space?!" Kael yelled, stepping back.

"I DON'T CARE! I HATE SPIDERS AND COCKROACHES!"

Zephyr chuckled. "A princess afraid of bugs? How delightful."

"Shut the hell up!" Adriana snapped, her face contorted in panic.

Kael grimaced. "The creatures aren't real. Think! Why would the fire spell fail?"

Historias exhaled slowly, watching the creatures move. "This illusion manifests our fears. The moment we acknowledge that we break its hold."

Adriana glared at him. "Easy for you to say! They feel real!"

But then, as if responding to his words, the creatures flickered—just for an instant—before vanishing into the void.

A cold wind swept past them, carrying the scent of decay.

Their surroundings shifted.

Where the stone corridor had once been, now stood a vast, fog-laden graveyard. Twisted tombstones jutted out at odd angles, and the skeletal remains of trees loomed overhead, their gnarled branches reaching like clawed hands.

Then, a sound—a faint scratching from beneath the earth.

Zephyr stiffened.

A decomposed hand burst from the ground, its flesh rotting, its fingers gnarled and broken. Another followed, then another, until dozens of skeletal figures dragged themselves from their graves. Hollow sockets burned with a sickly green light as they staggered forward.

Zephyr turned white. "You have got to be kidding me."

Adriana smirked despite herself. "A demon afraid of the undead? That's rich."

Historias tilted his head. "Truly, a remarkable irony."

Zephyr scowled. "Shut it! They're unnatural!"

The skeletal horde advanced, their rusted weapons glinting in the dim light. The group instinctively reached for their weapons, but Historias raised a hand.

"Pointless. This isn't a combat trial. We fight, we waste time. The solution is simpler—ignore them."

Zephyr looked at him as though he had gone mad, but then he hesitated. The skeletons were slow, and uncoordinated. If they weren't real…

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to move forward. The others followed, stepping carefully between the grasping limbs and clicking jaws. As they walked, the figures crumbled to dust, dissolving into the mist.

Then, the ground beneath them shifted.

The graveyard gave way to a sheer cliffside.

A gust of wind howled through the air as they stood at the edge, staring down at the abyss below. Shadows twisted in the depths, moving with unnatural fluidity, as if beckoning them forward.

A few moments later, they reached a sheer drop—a massive, endless cliff.

Kael had gone silent.

His face was white as a sheet.

Adriana nudged him. "Kael?"

He swallowed hard. "I'm fine."

Zephyr grinned. "Oh? Let me guess—you're afraid of heights?"

Kael's jaw tightened. "...My sister once threw me off a 500-meter cliff for training."

A moment of silence.

Then—

Zephyr burst into laughter. "BAHAHAHA! That's hilarious!"

Kael glared at him.

Adriana sighed. "Alright. We're not wasting time on this."

Before Kael could react, she muttered a quick incantation. A faint shimmer of light enveloped him, and within seconds, he slumped forward—unconscious.

"You put him to sleep?" Zephyr asked incredulously.

"Easier this way."

"Not fair," Zephyr grumbled. "Why does he get to sleep through his trial?"

"Shut up," Adriana and Historias said in unison.

With careful precision, they maneuvered Kael across the cliffside, eventually reaching stable ground. As soon as they were on solid footing, Adriana dispelled the sleep spell, and Kael woke with a start.

"What the—?"

"You're fine," Historias said smoothly. "We're moving on."

Kael muttered something under his breath but followed.

Then, they saw it.

.......

The moment they stepped onto the battlefield, Kael felt an unsettling weight settle in his chest. The scent of blood and decay was thick in the air, the cries of the dying echoing in the distance as though the battle had only just ended. Bodies—humans, elves, demons, and void creatures—littered the ground in grotesque, unnatural formations. Weapons lay discarded beside their wielders, some still clutching their blades in a death grip.

Kael wasn't unfamiliar with war. His father was a general, and he had been trained from a young age to fight, to lead, to kill. Yet, there was something profoundly wrong about this place. This wasn't just any battlefield. This was carnage, absolute devastation.

His gaze flickered to Historias. The elf walked steadily ahead, his posture composed as always, but there was something off. His usual air of lazy amusement had vanished. His silver eyes, usually carrying a glint of sharp wit, were blank. Cold.

Kael's mind raced. Was this a real battlefield from the past? Could Historias have fought in a war like this before? No, that was impossible… wasn't it?

Yet, as he watched, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just some vision meant to test their fears. It felt too real. Too personal.

........

Zephyr had never feared battle. He was a demon, born into an inherently warlike race. Fighting was in his blood. Death was a companion he had long since accepted. And yet, as he stood in the middle of this corpse-strewn field, he felt uneasy.

The battlefield itself was horrifying, sure. But it wasn't the sight of death that unnerved him. It was the silence.

War wasn't silent. Even after the last sword was swung, the screams, the prayers, the final gasps for breath should linger in the air. But here—nothing. Just the eerie hush of a place abandoned by even the wind.

His gaze found Historias, the elf walking as though he had tread this very path before. And maybe he had.

A ridiculous thought, yet one he couldn't shake.

Historias had an air about him that screamed experience. The way he moved, the way he didn't even react to the grotesque sight before them—it was unnatural. Normal students, no matter how strong, would be disturbed. But Historias? It was as if this meant nothing to him.

Zephyr grinned, though it was forced. "This some kind of bad memory for you, Vaelcrest?" he joked, keeping his voice light.

Historias didn't react. Not even a glance.

Zephyr's grin faded.

Something about this battlefield had touched something deep within the elf. A memory, perhaps? An old wound?

Just who the hell are you, Historias?

......

Adriana tightened her grip on her sword, scanning the battlefield with a calculating gaze. The bodies of humans and elves lay alongside demons and void creatures.

A war where all three races had fought together… or had all fallen together?

Her thoughts went back to the history lessons she had memorized. There had been battles like this before. Wars against the void. But this place didn't match any battle she had ever studied.

Her eyes flickered to Historias. He walked ahead of them, completely silent.

That wasn't normal.

Historias was never truly loud, but he always had a quip, a teasing remark, or at least a dry observation. Yet now, he was mute, his face unreadable.

Adriana studied him carefully. He wasn't just ignoring them—he was somewhere else.

You've seen this before, haven't you?

It was the only explanation.

Historias wasn't shocked because this wasn't new to him.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Adriana prided herself on reading people, but with Historias…

Damn it, why do I feel like I know nothing about him at all?

........

The battlefield stretched before him.

Corpses, broken weapons, the lingering stench of death.

The sight was… familiar.

Not this exact battlefield, no. But war itself. Blood, loss, the endless cycle of destruction—it was all the same.

He had seen it before. He had been here before. Not in this specific place, but in a dozen others just like it.

The others were watching him. He could feel their gazes, their unspoken questions.

It didn't matter.

This was just another illusion. A test.

Then he spoke up, "Let's just keep what we all saw in the labyrinth to ourselves, shall we?"

He kept walking, his steps steady, ignoring the ghosts of the past clawing at the edges of his mind.

Finally, a faint glow appeared ahead. The exit.

As they stepped through, reality snapped back into place. The dungeon was gone. The air was warm. The professors stood before them.

"Nine minutes, twenty-eight seconds," the examiner announced.

They had passed.

Adriana exhaled. "Thank the gods."

Zephyr stretched. "That was… honestly kind of fun."

Kael shot him a look. "Speak for yourself."

Historias merely glanced back at the dungeon, at the darkness beyond the gate, his mind lingering on the battlefield, and the memories it stirred.

He pushed them aside.

For now.

........

Evening—Historias' POV

The day had passed without further incident. The Trial of Mind and Will had shaken most students, but Historias and his team had performed exceptionally well. The Arcane and Physical Proficiency Exam had followed, where students demonstrated their combat capabilities and mana control. It had gone as expected.

Historias ranked first.

No one was surprised.

And yet, despite his effortless victory, his mind wasn't at ease.

As the sun dipped beyond the academy walls, bathing the sky in hues of crimson and gold, a sudden, visceral chill crawled up Historias' spine.

Something was wrong.

He stilled, silver eyes narrowing as he turned his focus inward, reaching out with his mana sense.

Then, he felt it.

A shift. A fracture.

Deep beneath layers of reality, buried in the darkness of the abyss, the seal had been broken.

Historias moved instantly, retrieving a communication crystal from his spatial ring. The smooth, enchanted stone pulsed faintly with arcane energy as he infused his mana into it.

A moment later, a familiar voice—drenched in reluctant irritation—answered.

"Don't tell me you actually want me to visit."

Aldren Vaelthorn's voice carried its usual dry amusement, though it was laced with exhaustion.

But Historias wasn't in the mood for banter.

"Someone broke the seal."

A pause.

Aldren's tone immediately lost its teasing edge. "What seal?"

Historias exhaled slowly, his grip on the crystal tightening.

"The seal on the Void Monarch's Core."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Aldren's POV

Aldren had been reviewing border reports when the crystal on his desk flickered to life.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. He already had enough problems to deal with, and the last thing he needed was Historias calling him with one of his whimsical requests.

"Don't tell me you actually want me to visit." He answered lazily, leaning back in his chair.

Then he heard Historias' voice—calm, steady, but carrying a weight he hadn't heard in a long time.

"Someone broke the seal."

Aldren sat up, his instincts immediately sharpening.

"What seal?"

"The seal on the Void Monarch's Core."

Aldren's breath hitched.

For the first time in centuries, a genuine chill crawled up his spine.

He pushed away the reports, standing from his chair as his mind raced.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"You know I wouldn't call if I wasn't."

Aldren's hands curled into fists.

The Void Monarch's Core. The very heart of the abyss, the source of the greatest devastation to ever touch Eldara. The last time the Monarch had risen, it had taken a war to push it back—and even then, they hadn't killed it.

Only sealed it.

And now, after a millennium of silence, someone had broken that seal.

"Where?" Aldren demanded.

"I don't know yet," Historias admitted. "But I can feel the disturbance. Someone has tampered with the core's containment."

Aldren cursed under his breath.

Who would be foolish enough to do this?

"What's our next move?"

Historias' response came without hesitation.

"We find out who did it before it's too late."

......

Historias' POV

The weight of the revelation settled between them like an unspoken curse.

Historias exhaled slowly, his grip firm around the communication crystal.

"Aldren, you need to inform them about the situation."

The silence stretched between them. Then, Aldren's voice came, low and unreadable.

"Them?"

He didn't need to elaborate.

Historias closed his eyes. The faces of warriors long past flickered through his mind—those who had stood alongside him in the Great Void War. The ones who had fought, bled, and nearly perished sealing the Void Monarch away.

"Are you sure?" Aldren asked. His voice held something rare—hesitation.

Historias didn't answer immediately. He knew exactly what this meant.

To reach out to them was to unearth the past. To gather the warriors who had once been heroes but had since vanished into legend. Some had taken up new lives, others had faded into obscurity.

And one of them—Historias himself—had chosen isolation.

Now, history threatened to repeat itself.

"If the Void Monarch awakens, Eldara will not survive another war like the last," Historias said quietly. "We have no choice."

Aldren exhaled sharply, as if weighing the gravity of those words.

"Very well," he finally said. "But you realize what this means, don't you?"

Historias' lips curved into the faintest of smirks, though his eyes remained distant.

"Of course, how could I not? It means my vacation is over."

........