Ethan stepped forward to steady Micah, who was swaying slightly.
"Brother... you guys go on to the second level. Don’t worry about ," Micah said, his breath shaky. "Seems I underestimated the trials of the Spirit Realm. It only opens once every hundred thousand years—I thought I could at least make it to the third level, maybe even the fourth!"
He let out a low, bitter laugh. "I was too arrogant."
Though Micah had achieved a breakthrough, the process had ravaged his body. The injuries he suffered were severe, and the exhaustion left him feeling his own limits keenly. Worse yet, he didn’t want to hold Ethan and Julian back.
Ethan scoffed and smacked the back of his head lightly. "What kind of nonsense is that? You call brother, and you think I’m just gonna leave you here?"
He turned to Julian. "You know how to set bones?"
Julian was already crouched beside Micah, examining his leg. He gave a grim nod. "The pressure in this place is too heavy—it’s not helping his injuries."
"Then we’re moving. Second level, now." Ethan waved his hand and pulled a collapsible stretcher from his stitagy—the sa one Lyla’s father had used when they left the Silverwood estate.
Julian took the front, Ethan took the rear, and together they carried Micah through the half-open gate into the next trial chamber.
Darkness swallowed them, and a mont later, the world shifted.
They erged into a frozen expanse.
Snow fell in dense flurries, blurring the horizon. Everything was white. The air was sharp and bitter cold, the silence broken only by the wind whispering over the barren landscape. From their position on the edge of the zone, the silhouettes of distant mountains could be seen—so looming like jagged teeth, others half-hidden behind low-hanging clouds, their peaks vanishing into the sky.
While Julian focused on resetting Micah’s fractured leg, Ethan’s gaze wandered toward the distant peaks. Sothing in that direction tugged at him. A presence. A call.
A shiver ran down his spine.
"Brother... don’t go over there," Micah croaked, his voice barely audible.
Ethan snapped his attention back, startled. Julian had finished the leg, bound it with wooden splints he’d carved on the spot, and wrapped the wound in bandages.
Julian looked up too. "What’s over there?" he asked, frowning. "I felt it too—like sothing was... calling."
"There’s a lake," Micah said, his face pale. "The old records call it the Forbidden Lake. It’s on this level. Everyone hears it—feels it pulling at them. But no one who’s gone there... ever cos back."
He swallowed, the fear in his voice raw. "Soone once saw from a distance—those who approached it would go mad. In the end, they drowned themselves. Smiling."
Both Ethan and Julian froze.
"Man... you’re basically a walking map," Ethan muttered, trying to lighten the mood. "If you hadn’t said anything, I might’ve walked straight over there."
He knelt beside Micah and placed his hands over the injured leg. A soft green mist flowed from his palms—he had shifted into his Tree Form.
Rejuvenation. Healing Touch. Lifebloom. Wild Growth.
One by one, he channeled his healing spells into Micah’s leg.
Micah’s entire body tensed. "Gah—! What the hell—brother—it itches! Itches like crazy!" He squird, hands reaching for the splints, trying to tear them off.
"Hold still," Ethan said, holding him down firmly. "If it doesn’t itch, it’s not healing. Just endure it."
He gave him a small pat on the shoulder. "Trust . I broke my arm once, and Evelyn used the sa spell combo. I nearly clawed my own skin off."
Micah groaned and flopped back, sweat already forming despite the freezing cold.
Then Julian spoke, his voice quiet. "Ethan... you think Blackie might go over there?"
Ethan froze.
His smile vanished instantly.
Blackie wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t understand.
He was clever, sure, but... he was still just a kid at heart. Curious. Impulsive. If he heard that sa call, he might follow it.
Even now, even knowing what Micah had just said, Ethan still felt it—the pull, the beckoning voice in the distance, promising sothing he couldn’t na.
He clenched his fists.
"I’m going to show you sothing. Watch closely. You both need to learn this."
Without waiting for a response, Ethan began demonstrating a slow, deliberate set of movents—three in total. His arms moved with fluid control, posture grounded, breathing perfectly aligned with each motion.
Julian tilted his head. "Wait... aren’t those the moves Uncle Jed does every morning?" he asked Ethan. "Yeah. I’ve only seen the first one, though. He moves like a damn snail. I’d be halfway through my morning drills, and he’d still be finishing that sa movent. Eventually, he stopped doing it in front of ."
Ethan let out a short laugh and shook his head.
"What?" Julian asked, confused.
"That set of movents is why my body’s stronger than yours," Ethan said flatly. "He was trying to teach you. But you didn’t have the patience to learn."
Julian’s jaw slackened. "You serious?"
"Completely," Ethan replied. "It’s a body-tempering technique. Twelve movents total. He only showed you the first, and you blew it off."
Micah blinked. "Wait, so this is, like, a real technique? A powerful one?"
"High-tier," Ethan confird. "Even the first three movents are enough to strengthen your physical body for life."
He finished the demonstration and stepped back. "This technique builds the tangible to nurture the intangible, and strengthens the intangible to support the tangible. Rember that."
He looked Julian dead in the eyes.
"The key... is slow."
Julian flushed. He had always been the explosive one—fast strikes, decisive blows, never stopping to think about patience or flow. This... this was the opposite of everything he’d trained.
"Don’t worry, Boss! I’ll practice it seriously!" Micah chid in, already mimicking the first pose.
His leg still hurt, but it was nothing like before. The healing spells had worked their magic.
Ethan nodded, pleased. "Good. I’m heading out. If Blackie went toward that lake, I can’t waste another second. I’ll et you both at the Stairway to Heaven on this level. Stay sharp."
He reached into his pouch and tossed Julian a gleaming silver-tier longblade. Julian caught it and nodded in silent understanding.
Just as Ethan turned to leave—
"Wait!" Julian said suddenly. "Baleron’s awake!"
A pouch on his belt vibrated violently, and a figure tumbled out of it with a thud, landing face-first in the snow.
"Ugh..." Baleron groaned. "Where the hell—"
"Knock him out and stuff him back in. No ti to deal with him now," Ethan said without looking back.
Baleron barely had ti to lift his head before thunk—Julian kicked him in the back of the skull. His eyes rolled up, and his face once again kissed the cold, unforgiving ground..
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