Aaryan approached with steady steps, dust clinging to his boots and shadow flickering across his face. Rudra had called out the moment their eyes met—sharp, commanding, the way a leader addressed those beneath him.

Ignoring him here would draw eyes, questions and surely trouble.

A small circle of cultivators stood near Rudra, inner disciples mostly—faces tense, eyes flicking warily toward the unmoving doors at the edge of the vast stone hall. Aaryan moved to stand just outside the circle, not close enough to presume, not distant enough to offend.

Rudra eyed him, a curious tilt to his head. "Didn't expect an outer disciple to make it this far."

Aaryan gave a thin smile. "Neither did I. Probably just luck."

Rudra chuckled once, low. But his gaze lingered, just a second too long.

Before more could be said, the ground rumbled. Stone grated against stone. The opposite end of the chamber groaned open—revealing a new, vast space beyond.

A twisting labyrinth sprawled ahead, its walls impossibly tall, shifting with a slow, ominous grind. Four paths stretched into its depths, each marked by flickering sigils. One glowed with firelight, one shimmered cold and pale, another pulsed with thorny green vines, and the last seemed unnaturally still.

From above, ancient glyphs blazed into view across the archway.

"Four paths, four truths. Fragmented alone, whole in unity."

"Step forward with your counterpart. Speak not just to be heard, but to be understood."

The cultivators exchanged glances. Whispers rose.

"What does it mean, 'counterpart'?"

"Are we supposed to choose paths together?"

"Four truths… does each path hold part of the answer?"

Confusion rippled through the crowd. Then, without warning, a pulse of light struck from the centre of the room, and a glowing thread of energy snapped toward each disciple—pairing them off with a thin line connecting their torsos. A heartbeat later, the lines vanished, but a faint warmth lingered in their chests. When they looked around, it became clear: each had been tethered to someone.

One partner. One path.

Rudra's brows furrowed. "It's forcing us into pairs."

Aaryan didn't speak—but the pit in his stomach twisted tighter. He glanced around—dozens of cultivators now stood grouped in twos, some visibly pleased, others visibly trapped.

His thread?

Had tied him to Rudra.

The worst possible draw.

Rudra turned to him with an easy smirk. "Well then. Looks like we're stuck with each other, luck or not."

Aaryan's mind raced. Traps. Tests. Manipulation. All of it screamed at him.

But all he said was, "Looks like it."

Some time passed while everyone tried to understand the situation.

Two inner disciples, one from Cloud Pillar and another bearing Evernight robes, exchanged a quick nod and moved into the labyrinth. Their steps were brisk, confident—too confident. They vanished behind the twisting stone, their path swallowed by shifting walls.

For a moment, nothing.

Then came the sound. A grinding lurch. A flash of blinding light.

Both cultivators were hurled back through the archway, landing in crumpled heaps near the centre of the hall. Neither moved. Gasps rippled through the onlookers as other disciples rushed forward to check on them.

Another pair stepped forward—quiet cultivators from Starfall Valley, expressions cold and precise. They lasted longer. Whispers of movement flickered along the outer walls—just enough to suggest progress.

But then, a low, resonant hum filled the air. The vines on the green-marked path pulsed violently, and seconds later, the two were ejected in the same brutal fashion. One rolled onto his side, clutching his chest. The other didn't wake at all.

A nervous silence took hold.

One more group tried. Failed. The labyrinth remained as unreadable as ever—an unmoving maze with a mind of its own.

Rudra clicked his tongue. "Useless," he muttered under his breath, then turned to Aaryan.

"Get ready."

Aaryan didn't flinch.

Rudra stepped forward, brushing the front of his robes, expression tight with authority. "Inside, you follow my lead. No tricks. No improvising. Or we'll end up like them."

Aaryan dipped his head. Just enough to pass for respect. "Understood."

But inside, the weight in his gut only grew. He didn't trust Rudra. Not in the slightest.

Still, the labyrinth demanded a pair. And the alternative… was worse.

Rudra turned without waiting and strode toward the entrance.

Aaryan followed.

Together, they stepped into the maze.

The maze swallowed them whole.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The moment they crossed the archway, the world shifted.

The cool air turned stifling. Stone walls loomed on either side—slick, breathing almost, their surfaces etched with flowing glyphs that shimmered faintly as if reacting to presence alone. Overhead, there was no sky, only a low ceiling wrapped in twisting roots and shadow-veined glass, warping light into strange, dancing patterns on the floor.

The four paths they'd seen from outside had converged into one narrow corridor. A heartbeat later, it split into three again—then two. Then five. The layout refused consistency, bending and reshaping like it was alive.

Rudra clicked his tongue. "Stay close."

The cold-marked path led them deeper than expected.

Not just a hallway, but a series of chambers. Each room shaped differently—spirals, slanted halls, a room with gravity pulling sideways. Sigils shimmered faintly on walls and ceilings. The maze wasn't just made of stone; it responded to motion, intent, even thought.

At first, Rudra led. Commanding. Overconfident.

"Stay behind me. Don't touch anything without my word."

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Aaryan nodded. Complied.

But he watched. Measured.

And then he began to test—small, clever acts. Stepping on alternating tiles when Rudra wasn't looking. Glancing at inscriptions when Rudra faced the other way. Dropping a small stone to see which sigils reacted to motion.

It wasn't betrayal. Not quite.

Just… double-checking. For Knowledge. Or survival.

The first trap came silently.

A wall of light split the hallway just after Rudra passed. It didn't hurt Aaryan—but it separated them.

Rudra shouted from the other side. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Aaryan shot back.

He stared at the wall. No way around. No response to touch. But a riddle glowed above: "One sees forward. One sees behind. Only when both speak truth does the path unwind."

'It wants cooperation', Aaryan thought. 'Even here.'

He called out. "There's a riddle! I need your side."

After a pause, Rudra yelled his version—similar, but inverted.

They each guessed alone. The wall sparked. Nothing.

But when Aaryan and Rudra spoke in sync, each giving part of the correct phrase—the wall hissed apart.

Rudra scowled when Aaryan re-joined him. "Stop wandering off."

"I wasn't," Aaryan said calmly.

Rudra narrowed his eyes—but said nothing more.

They pressed on.

The next chamber was worse.

Four platforms rose from the floor, each bearing a different puzzle: one lit with shifting runes, another with balance weights, one with musical chimes, and the last with blank tiles and a ticking sound.

"Which one do we choose?" Aaryan asked.

Rudra scoffed. "Choose? We solve them all. Obviously."

He jumped to the rune platform.

Aaryan hesitated. The ticking grew louder. His eyes scanned the array of stone platforms. Most lay still, but a few flickered at irregular intervals—barely noticeable unless you watched long enough.

A soft hum linked the platforms—subtle, but in sequence. One after the other, not all at once.

His brow twitched. "Oh… you sly bastard," he muttered, lips curving. "It's a chain. Not a leap." A hidden order.

He jumped to the tile puzzle instead. Each step forward revealed a pressure plate. A single mistake would trigger… something.

Aaryan began solving his—quickly, but cautiously.

Halfway through, Rudra snapped, "What are you doing? We're wasting time!"

Aaryan didn't reply. Just focused. Kept solving.

The runes on Rudra's side suddenly flared—and vanished. His platform jolted, but stabilized.

At the same time, Aaryan's puzzle ended with a soft chime.

Then the remaining two puzzles sank into the floor—unneeded.

Rudra looked stunned. "Wait. That was the correct combination?"

Aaryan only gave a wry smile. "Guess we got lucky."

But inside, he knew. It hadn't been luck. It had been instinct, observation, and deduction.

Still, it hadn't been alone.

His path had only opened once both of them completed their puzzles.

Not one. Not the other. Both.

And Aaryan didn't like the implication.

Rudra said nothing. But for the first time, he didn't look through Aaryan. He looked at him.

The final stretch was a narrow hallway of mirrors. Aaryan froze. His reflection looked back—but not the same.

Its eyes were colder.

"Why do you always stand alone?" the reflection asked. "Even now, you want to outsmart him."

Aaryan's throat tightened. It wasn't the accusation that shook him—but how close it felt to truth.

But he said nothing. Just kept walking.

The image flickered—and Rudra's appeared beside him.

He will betray you, the reflection said. Just as they did.

Aaryan's hands curled into fists. He turned away.

And walked forward.

The hallway dissolved into light—and the last door opened.

They emerged into a vast domed chamber already filled with other disciples—some sitting quietly, others catching their breath. Eyes turned toward them, curious, calculating.

Aaryan kept walking. Not beside Rudra. Not behind.

Just walking. Calm. Silent.

But his thoughts were not calm.

He knew what the reflection meant by 'they'. He had never spoken it—not even to himself. But the truth his heart feared most?

That his parents hadn't died.

They had abandoned him.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Aaryan glanced at Rudra, debating for a moment. "Did you…" he started, lowering his voice, "see something in the mirror room? A reflection that spoke?"

Rudra didn't answer. Didn't even look back. He simply walked forward with the same calm arrogance, heading toward the centre of the hall where the others waited.

Aaryan followed, expression guarded.

The vast chamber pulsed with faint spiritual energy. Arrayed around the space were the remaining cultivators—ten in total, including Rudra and Aaryan. Yashan stood with someone from Cloud Pillar, his robes immaculate despite the trial. Shivul lounged beside him, sleeves rolled, a grin playing on his lips. He too had two from his sect nearby, sharp-eyed and silent. Veiyra stood apart, calm and observant, flanked by two Starfall disciples of her own.

They were the strongest here—each at the peak of the 8th stage. With the tomb sealed to those beyond that level, they ruled this space.

Rudra approached first, his gait steady, arms folded behind his back. "Quite the crowd," he said, tone even but edged with amusement. "Didn't expect so many would survive the first trial."

Yashan gave a low laugh. "And yet somehow you came through with that outer sect tag-along." He didn't even glance at Aaryan. "Maybe this tomb isn't as selective as we thought."

Shivul chuckled. "Or maybe Rudra needed a pack mule. Looks like he found one."

Rudra's jaw ticked, just barely. "Still better than dragging dead weight through illusions. At least mine walks."

His gaze flicked toward Veiyra. "Though I admit, some of you hide your bruises better than others."

Veiyra tilted her head. "Bruises heal. Pride takes longer."

A soft ripple of laughter passed among the inner disciples.

Rudra's gaze sharpened slightly, but before he could retort, Yashan's eyes flicked to Aaryan—finally acknowledging him.

"You," he said, sneering. "So the stray dog made it. I thought you'd die sniffing your own trail."

Aaryan smiled wide, warm as a sunrise and twice as fake. "Don't blame me if the tomb had low standards."

Yashan's smirk faded.

Shivul let out a sharp whistle. "Sharp tongue on this one," he said, amused. "I like it. Shame Yashan asked me to teach you manners."

Aaryan spread his arms. "I'm always open to lessons. Though if the teacher can't count past two brain cells, I might have to switch schools."

Even Veiyra raised a brow at that, and one of her disciples stifled a cough.

Shivul stepped forward, face darkening—but before he could speak, the air shifted.

Another figure entered the hall.

Aaryan turned—and froze.

It was her.

The same girl from the chamber of the rare herb. Unmistakable. She didn't walk—she glided, each step soundless, measured, like the tomb itself bent around her passage. The air tightened, just slightly, like the room had to make space for her presence.

Even the torches flinched, shadows peeling away as if unsure whether to touch her.

Aaryan blinked. Once. Twice.

"Oh," he muttered, almost breathless. "Not again."

He didn't understand it. Something about her—like gravity wrapped in silk—just scrambled his brain. The first time had been bad. This was worse. But if he was going to make a fool of himself, he might as well commit to the role. Besides, better to be ridiculous than vulnerable. At least with jokes, no one could see him unravel.

Gasps echoed as the girl entered.

Not a word spoken. Not a sound from her.

But the shift was instant.

Even the rogue cultivators, loud a breath ago, fell silent. Her presence didn't roar—it whispered, and somehow that was worse. Calm, composed, unreadable. She seemed almost untouched by the tomb's grime and weight, walking with the kind of grace that didn't need to be learned.

No one recognized her.

Which made it worse.

Unknown meant unpredictable. Unknown meant threat.

"Who…?" Veiyra murmured under her breath.

Shivul, ever smirking, fell quiet. The girl walked with no hesitation, no glance spared for anyone. Yet every step seemed to demand attention.

But before anyone could piece together a theory, one of the rogue cultivators stepped forward.

A good-looking youth in a deep green coat, his name mostly spoken in taverns and border cities—Rivan, if Aaryan remembered right. Known for being fast with his blade and faster with his mouth.

He smiled, confident. "Didn't know the tomb let paintings come to life. You lost, sweetheart?"

No response.

He chuckled. "Or maybe you're here to bless us with that cold stare all day. That's fine too. Staring's free."

Still no answer.

He took another step forward. "Hey, I'm just trying to—"

She moved.

A flash of her palm—not with cultivation, not with spiritual power, but sheer force and speed.

Rivan staggered, a sharp slap ringing through the chamber. He didn't fall, but his head snapped sideways, and a thin line of blood marked his lip.

The silence grew teeth.

Aaryan, still rooted where he stood, blinked once. Then twice. Then exhaled softly, as if the world had just shifted in a way only he noticed.

And then, against all logic, he took a step toward her.

"...Of course it's you again," he muttered under his breath, as if this were some ancient fate.

Everyone stared.

Yashan frowned. Shivul tilted his head. Even Veiyra looked slightly baffled.

Aaryan kept walking. Past the rogue cultivator now wiping his lip in disbelief. Past the faint tension rippling through the air. Straight toward the girl, who stood like carved stone.

"Aaryan," Rudra barked, voice sharp. "Get back."

Aaryan ignored him. Muttering something only half-coherent—about stars aligning, second chances, or divine symmetry—no one could quite tell.

The girl's brow twitched. Not confusion. Not interest. Just a flicker of movement, as if weighing whether this fly buzzing toward her deserved another slap.

And then the room trembled.

Six pedestals rose from the ground in a wide arc, smooth and dark. Each held a hovering orb of light—no more than a foot in size—pulsing with different intensities. The glow was faint, but inside each orb, something stirred. Hints of curled parchment. Faint shadows of scrolls sealed within.

All eyes snapped toward them.

Treasure.

Not tests. Not riddles. Just raw, unclaimed value. No one knew what the scrolls held, but that didn't matter.

Six scrolls.

Eleven people.

Greed hit like a second silence. Heavy. Hot.

And still, Aaryan hadn't moved. Still muttering under his breath, like the pedestals hadn't even happened.

Rudra pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I swear," he growled. "That idiot's going to get himself killed."

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