Kage was certain he had underestimated Mount Harmony. They did not reach the harmony marker until late evening on the fourth day.

The mountain base sprawled wider than he'd expected. Though all roads led to the destination, it remained easy to lose your way and wander aimlessly.

Sixteen people he was expecting for their scrolls were yet to arrive.

They reached a temple nestled between the forest and the Silent Grove. The structure rose around a hot spring, steam curling through the lower forest and wreathing the temple itself.

Several buildings in eastern style had collapsed. While they wanted to believe time had eroded them, common sense whispered otherwise—these were scars from the Harmony Wars.

The War against Impures that had claimed millions.

Haru looked around, his eyes drinking in the architecture with faint disbelief. The structures looked as if giants had lifted single slabs of stone—mountains themselves—and driven them into the earth like stakes. No bricks. No mortar. Each building stood as a single piece, or at least appeared to.

The main temple itself rose nearly forty feet—twin buildings torn from each other as if Heaven itself had wrenched them apart.

Stone shards hung suspended between them, frozen mid-throw, somehow beautifying the ruin and crystallizing that moment of disaster six hundred years ago.

Haru sighed.

"Sometimes, the things they say about the Harmony Wars—what our ancestors faced together—sound like fairy tales. Like impossibilities. But then..."

He gestured at the temple.

"Seeing this makes it real."

Everyone except Talia, who'd found sudden interest in scattered stones, turned toward him.

Kaito hesitated before speaking.

"Is this the temple cleaved by Kael of the Ironstorm?"

Haru nodded.

"They say the Impure merged itself with the Temple. A Hollow rank. It butchered almost all of the ten-thousand-man army until barely a hundred remained. The thing became a structure—try cutting down a building and you'll understand the futility. Kael of the Ironstorm was the only one who could fight it. A Transcendent defeating a Hollow—an incredible feat. Even Supremes have to strategize and prepare beforehand."

Kaito's mouth fell open, his gaze tracing the torn architecture he'd only heard of in myths.

"This should be a tourist site!"

Lian Feng chuckled.

"Too dangerous. Besides, the journey to the Mistral Strait costs a fortune. Not everyone has money."

Kage glanced at the torn temple with flat eyes.

'It is impressive. My first time seeing it. Like something ripped apart by divine hands and frozen in time. But…'

He sighed and his lips curved downward.

"Nonsense. He waited for nine thousand nine hundred men to die before defeating it. What's amazing about that? People died, and you're overlooking his incompetence while praising his skill? The same skill that couldn't save nine thousand?"

He shook his head and continued forward.

They stood stunned, confusion rippling through them.

Haru looked between Lian Feng and Kaito, genuinely puzzled.

"Did someone irritate him?"

Kaito allowed a small smile.

"I don't think he's annoyed at us. He seems irritated rather than angry."

Haru remained confused.

"Irritated how? Isn't this something anyone our age would do? We hear how terrifying Severance Arts are but never see them in action. This is incredible work... why wouldn't anyone be in awe?"

Kaito scratched his head.

"Well, Brother Kage is certainly different."

'At least now I know he's not from the Ironstorm clan…'

Lian Feng glanced once more at the structure and followed Kage. The rest trailed behind, along with Talia, who remained obsessed with the stones, muttering something.

"This one's volcanic—see the texture? Perfect weight distribution… look at the crystalline structure here... probably from the hot springs..."

Among the collapsed temples, only one stood intact. They entered naturally, searching different chambers before converging at a central room lined with polished mirrors on the walls.

The moment Kage saw the mirrors, he knew.

"This is the location of the harmony marker, no doubt."

They paused to examine it.

Talia turned away.

"I hate mirrors."

Kage studied his reflection instead. Dirt stained his face, but his violet eyes remained sharp as forged blades. His black hair fell to his neckline, the partitions framing his face like curtains drawn at the corners of his eyes.

His clothes were ragged.

Lian Feng, hands clasped behind his back, turned from the mirror to address the others.

"The third test is clearly about mirrors, but what are we supposed to do?"

Kage looked at him and pointed forward.

Lian Feng traced the gesture to an adjacent mirror. He raised a brow.

"Yes? The mirror?"

Kage shook his head and exhaled.

"For someone so skilled, you lack basic observation. You'll probably get ambushed often."

Kage wasn't wrong. In his past life, Lian Feng's overreliance on strength made him careless.

Kage walked forward and gestured at the mirror's edges.

Every other mirror sat perfectly aligned, forming a seamless wall—though seams remained visible. This particular mirror had a wider gap than the rest.

Kage pressed the mirror surface gently. It responded with a groan, and the entire chamber trembled, causing even Bei to whirl around, snarling with sharp eyes.

A narrow doorway revealed itself—only wide enough for one person.

Kage glanced at them, noting the uncertainty in their eyes. No one wanted to enter first. It could be a trap instead of a test.

But Kage already knew the test's contents.

"I'll go first."

He walked inside.

Another chamber of mirrors greeted him. Seven this time, positioned at seven corners of the room. Each one reflecting Kage.

But the reflections were different.

In one reflection, his eyes sharpened into something more dangerous—hands draped in blood, gaze heavy with truths only battle could carve into a man.

The second reflection held tender eyes, gentle and inviting like the promise of knowledge. Where the first was a warrior, the second was a scholar.

The third bore eyes that mirrored Talia's when she forged—ones Kage recognized intimately. The passion. The joy of watching your craft take shape under your hands. Perhaps this reflection was the artisan buried within him.

The fourth commanded with insightful, powerful eyes—compelling him to regard himself with reverence. The eyes of a leader. A commander.

The fifth belonged to a master of art, someone who'd bonded with the beauty of nature. The sixth carried eyes willing to heal, to mend and grow. And the last was the most difficult to grasp.

Peaceful. Smiling. Beautiful.

Kage looked truly happy, and that made it the reflection he detested most. It looked fake. Unreal. Like a pretender wearing his face.

'I can deceive a thousand people. But I'll never deceive myself.'

Kage turned from it toward the first reflection.

'These reflections are based on the seven disciplines of the academy. Blade, Scholarship, Artisanship, Leadership, Spiritual Practice—also known as Essentia—Healing, and Poetry.'

His expression intensified on the first reflection. The reflection looked back at him.

And became a vision.

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