The lake continued to batter the Stygian Shell in relentless waves of KANG—KANG—KANG.
Each impact rang like a vengeful deity demanding release.
Behind the trembling barrier, Lucien stood motionless. His eyes narrowed in deep calculation.
Eirene watched him with focus.
Marie hugged her arms, voice barely above a whisper.
"...So how do we retrieve sothing sitting inside a lake that wants to erase our breath?"
Lucien exhaled slowly.
"The Stygian Shell is shielding us... but it’s also trapping the Key inside with it. If I remove the shield, we’re imdiately targeted. If I keep it up, no one can enter."
For a heartbeat, only the pounding lake responded.
Then—
A spark of insight flickered behind Lucien’s eyes.
Thanks to Photographic mory, the events of earlier did not fade. They lived in his mind with perfect clarity, preserved with sharper detail than any scroll.
The resurrection. The breath imprints. The taphysical chanics unveiled by the Samsara Crown.
Every thread of knowledge remained intact, unmuddied, and unforgotten.
And as those pieces aligned within his mind...
A plan began to take shape.
Lucien lifted his hand. His fingers humd with pale crimson resonance.
Marie blinked.
"Luc? What are you doing?"
"Stay back. I have a plan."
Marie and Eirene’s expression sharpened.
Even the robed leader tilted his head, intrigued.
Lucien summoned several tal Gargoyles.
Then—
Lucien willed the Law of Reflection to ignite.
Reality around the tal Gargoyles seed to bend as though the world itself was looking into a mirror it didn’t understand. A thin, translucent crimson sheen rippled across each gargoyle’s chest like a second skin layered atop tal.
But it wasn’t light.
It was imitation made manifest.
Under Lucien’s control, the reflected essence twisted and sharpened until it captured sothing far more delicate than shape or sound.
Breath.
It was the complete, mirrored imprint of the Senior Sister’s breath-signature. Her rhythm, her pulse, and the subtle "grain" of her existence etched itself onto the tal guardians.
One by one, the gargoyles awakened with a foreign aura.
Their bodies glimred with a ghostly breath-light.
A breath they did not breathe.
A life-pattern they did not own.
Eirene gasped softly, eyes widening.
"They’re... breathing?" she whispered.
Then her expression sharpened with realization.
"So you’ve turned them into living bait. Breathing decoys that the lake will chase instead of us."
Lucien nodded.
"Let the lake waste its wrath on targets that cannot truly die."
The gargoyles stepped forward.
But Lucien wasn’t finished.
He opened his CRAFT interface and browsed through the Consumables.
A single recipe caught his eye:
***
Breathnull Pellet
Price: 10 low-grade spirit crystals
Effect: Nullifies outward breath-signature and stabilizes internal breath into a flat, unreadable state.
***
’Perfect.’
The main ingredient appeared in the panel, the soft luminescent petals of the Chronoslumber Thistle. It’s one of the herbs in the garden, a rare herb that regulated temporal rhythms inside the body. Ideal for stasis-based techniques.
Lucien inserted the herbs.
A progress bar appeared:
***
Crafting in Progress: Breathnull Pellet...
12%... 39%... 81%... 100%
Crafting Done.
***
He crafted several doses.
He handed one to Eirene, one to Marie.
Then he turned toward the black-robed faction.
"Take one."
The robed leader accepted it with a gloved hand.
"My followers have no need. I will take it alone."
Lucien rely nodded. He expected that answer.
Together, they swallowed the pills.
The effect was imdiate.
Their breaths didn’t vanish... but flattened, stabilized into sothing so even and so eerily still that it felt like they were breathing without breathing.
Marie gasped softly.
"Goddess... I can’t even feel my own breathing."
Eirene nodded, fascinated.
"It’s like standing inside a mont where nothing moves."
Lucien glanced at the lake.
"Good. That ans the projectiles won’t find us."
He raised his hand.
"Ready?"
Three heads nodded.
Before Lucien continued, his gaze sharpened.
With a thought, the monster leaders stirred.
[Spread out.]
The command echoed through their tad link and the beasts moved at once.
Then Lucien added.
[Suppress your breath. Hold it still.]
A soft tremor pulsed through the monsters as they obeyed.
Only when the battlefield was cleared of unnecessary "breathing targets" did Lucien finally proceed with his plan.
He... dismissed the Stygian Shell.
Instantly—
FWOOOOOM—!!!
Dozens of breath-spears scread toward them—
—but the gargoyles’ reflected breath prints pulled every projectile sideways, redirecting the lake’s hatred toward the decoys.
The bait held.
Lucien, Eirene, and Marie andvanced.
The robed faction remained still, observing. The leader’s gaze lingered on Lucien with strange interest.
Then—
They finally saw it.
Beneath the shimring chaos of the Moonbreath Reservoir lay a small object suspended in the water.
The Key of Slumber.
Lucien had an idea. He lifted his hand then...
’Auto-collect.’
But... nothing happened.
He clicked his tongue.
"It seems like the key is bound by the Law of Stillness... it refuses to let anything be removed by external spatial force."
Eirene stepped forward.
"Then this part is mine."
Erald light flared from her palms.
Vines unfurled. They were thin, strong, and surprisingly elegant like strands of living silk. They slithered across the ground, onto the lake’s surface...
The lake reacted instantly.
SHAAA—!!!
Waves rose like clawed hands trying to shred the vines.
Marie whispered, awestruck,
"She controls them perfectly..."
Lucien nodded.
"That is the Floran bloodline."
The vines danced... dodging projectiles, slipping through waves, weaving past concentrated breath attacks.
But Lucien’s breath stilled. Those vines weren’t ordinary. They shimred with an unfamiliar Law.
Just then—
The vines wrapped the Key.
The lake shrieked in white vapor and breath-projectiles—
—but every shot was intercepted by gargoyles or absorbed by the hovering Stygian Shell Lucien kept ready as backup.
Slowly...
The vines pulled the Key free...
successfully.
And then—
Silence.
The Moonbreath Reservoir cald instantly as though it had been soothed or unshackled.
Eirene held the Key of Slumber, breath trembling.
"...Finally."
Marie exhaled explosively.
"That nearly killed ... emotionally."
Even the robed leader inclined his head.
"Well executed."
Lucien smiled faintly.
"It’s done."
Marie tugged his sleeve.
"Let’s leave before sothing else wakes up."
"You go first."
Eirene paused.
"Brother Luc...?"
"I have sothing to finish."
Marie imdiately pulled her away. She recognized Lucien’s tone. He doesn’t want to be bothered.
The robed leader lingered for a mont.
"You are... an intriguing one. Do try to live until we et again."
Then he, too, departed... in a cool and dramatic way.
Leaving Lucien alone who snorted at his departure.
Then...
Lucien lifted his hand.
Now that no one remained, he could act without reservation.
Divine energy unfurled from him like a silvery mist and wrapped around the now-calm lake.
The Moonbreath Reservoir shimred—
—and vanished into his Divine Energy Core.
Next, he summoned a second wave of divine mist, enveloping every gargoyle and every beast.
They dissolved into light and were transported directly into his inner world.
The Silver Garden was truly stripped bare.
Lucien exhaled once—
Then stepped out to rejoin the others.
The Silver Garden’s trials were finally complete.
•••
Lucien stepped out of the emptied Silver Garden. He ascended the terraces with unhurried strides.
He then walked towards the large archway.
He expected emptiness at the top. He expected everyone to have left.
But...
The mont he reached the archway where the Breath Bridge once shimred...
He froze.
Everyone was still there.
The Scarlet Sect.
The Sskavyrn spear-warriors.
The Verdant Veil.
And even the black-robed faction.
All gathered at the edge of the abyss.
All facing the sa silent, yawning darkness.
Lucien blinked.
"...Huh?"
His gaze moved toward the robed leader, the sa man who had dramatically delivered a cool farewell only minutes earlier.
Lucien nearly laughed.
"Oh! We et again," he said lightly. "Looks like you’re alive and well too."
The reaction was priceless.
The robed leader stiffened.
His head jerked away instantly.
Worse, his four robed subordinates stepped in front of him in a single synchronized motion, blocking Lucien’s line of sight like bodyguards.
Lucien raised a brow, amused.
He held back a grin.
"Alright," Lucien said, "please tell why everyone’s still here."
It was Raven, now breathing normally, who answered.
"Brother Wolf..." he began with a grim voice, "we... can’t make the Breath Bridge anymore."
Eirene followed up. Her tone was equally serious.
"When the Ruin’s protective chanism triggered earlier... it disabled the formation completely. The Breath Bridge no longer responds. We’ll have to find another way across this abyss."
Lucien’s eyes narrowed.
He stepped past them and peered into the abyss.
He couldn’t even sense a floor. Just an endless downward pull.
Raven continued,
"We tested it," he said. "We cast fire spells into the abyss."
"And?" Lucien asked.
Raven swallowed.
"The flas didn’t fall."
He paused.
"They were... swallowed. Like sothing down there inhaled them."
Eirene added quietly, "If anyone slips, they’re gone. There is no surviving that descent."
The group fell silent.
The abyss stretched before them like a patient predator.
Lucien stared at it.
Then he exhaled slowly.
"A broken return path... a hungry abyss... and no functioning chanism to cross back."
His fingers tapped lightly against his arm.
He wasn’t afraid. Not even concerned.
In fact...
His eyes glead.
A familiar warmth of opportunity curled at the corner of his lips.
The others saw the shift and unconsciously stepped back.
Marie whispered, "Uh-oh. He has that face again."
Lucien rolled his shoulders once.
"Well," he said brightly, "looks like the Silver Garden isn’t done making us treasure— I an, trouble."
Every faction stiffened.
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