The Weeping City

The Room of Memories

The silence between them lingered as they ascended further into the obelisk. The air inside the Last Pillar was thick—not just with dust and time, but with something heavier.

Memories.

The second floor was unlike the frozen ascent or the mirror's illusions. Here, a vast chamber stretched around them, filled with floating lanterns of light—each holding echoes of the past.

At the center of the room, a floating balloon carrier awaited—a delicate yet sturdy platform, tethered by golden threads of magic that pulsed with an ancient rhythm. It hovered just above the ground, gently swaying, waiting for them to step inside.

Eris and Ash exchanged a look. They didn't speak, but they didn't need to. They both felt it.

Something about this place ached.

They stepped onto the carrier, and the magic threads shimmered in response. Slowly, the carrier lifted off the ground, beginning its quiet ascent toward the third floor.

That was when the memories came to life.

Soft whispers surrounded them—not voices of rulers or warriors, but of ordinary people.

Their lives, their joys, their last moments.

Eris paused, fascinated. She peered into one of the memory balls floating around the carrier.

A soft glow flickered suddenly, revealing a scene suspended in the air.

An elderly glassblower stood in his small workshop, carefully shaping molten glass with practiced hands. Beside him, a young girl—his daughter—watched in awe.

"Papa, will I ever be as good as you?" she asked, her tiny fingers reaching for a half-finished piece.

The old man chuckled. "You will be better, little star. One day, your hands will shape wonders beyond mine."

The vision flickered, fast-forwarding. The girl—now older—stood in the ruins of the workshop, clutching a single unbroken glass figurine.

Her father was gone.

The fires of war had taken everything, but she held the last creation he had ever made—a delicate glass phoenix.

The memory faded, leaving behind only the weight of its sorrow.

Eris gripped the railing, her chest tight. That was one intimate father and daughter.

Ash looked at her, " I think those are memories of people's lives before disaster struck Eterna."

"Such a pity!" Eris sighed.

Another ball soon drifted closer, unraveling a new story.

At the top of a tall watchtower, a soldier stood, staring into the night. A woman approached him, her cloak pulled tightly around her.

"You're leaving," she whispered.

The soldier turned, his expression pained. "The war is coming. I have to fight."

She reached for his hand. "Then promise me. Promise you'll come back."

The soldier hesitated. Then, he placed something in her hand—a simple wooden ring.

"If I don't," he said softly, "then at least you'll know—I never wanted to leave."

The scene blurred, shifting. The watchtower was now abandoned, its stones crumbling with time.

The woman stood alone, holding the ring. She never put it on.

The memory vanished.

Eris stared once again but before she could speak...

Another memory drifted close again.

An old storyteller sat beneath a grand tree, surrounded by children. His voice was warm, filled with laughter, weaving tales of heroes, lost cities, and forgotten gods.

One child, a little boy, tugged at his sleeve. "Will you tell stories forever?"

The old man chuckled. "As long as someone listens."

The vision fast-forwarded.

The storyteller sat alone beneath the same tree—older, frailer.

No children gathered now. The city had fallen. The world had moved on.

But still, he spoke to the empty air, telling stories to ghosts.

As the memory faded, Ash let out a slow breath. "This place…" He shook his head. "It's like the world itself is grieving."

Eris nodded. "It is."

The memories of **Eterna—before its collapse—**floated around them, remnants of lives long lost. And yet, in their own way, they still existed.

Eris reached for another memory ball reflecting a royal mage before Ash spoke up

"Let's not focus on these memory balls anymore, we need to be in top emotional state for what's next up there."

"You're right," Eris agreed reluctantly.

They turned their gazes upward instead and the carrier traveled faster and soon they came up to the third floor.

Above them, the obelisk trembled.

And then—

It started with a single raindrop.

Then another.

And then—the elements wept.

The walls of the obelisk pulsed with life. Waterfalls spilled from cracks in the stone, winds howled through unseen corridors, flames flickered in patterns of grief. The entire structure seemed to be mourning, as though it, too, had suffered the loss of an entire civilization.

Ash reached out, catching a drop of rain in his palm. It wasn't cold.

It felt like tears.

Eris watched as the Eternal Flame twisted in her hands, forming shapes—not of destruction, but of remembrance. The Last Pillar was not just a ruin.

It was a graveyard of history.

The wind whispered around them, carrying echoes of voices long gone. They weren't words, but emotions—regret, longing, love, loss.

Eris closed her eyes, letting the weight of it sink into her bones. She understood this place now.

It was not just testing them.

It was showing them the place of this forsaken and punished city.

Ash's voice was quiet. "Do you think… any of them ever found peace?"

Eris didn't answer. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

Instead, she turned toward the activation portal.

A massive stone archway stood before them, glowing with ancient runes. At its center, two empty slots waited—one for the Knowledge Record and one for the Eternal Ember of Flame.

Eris and Ash stepped forward, each pulling out the artifact they had carried with them.

Together, they placed them into the slots.

The runes blazed to life.

The obelisk shook, its sorrow turning into something else—resolution.

And then—

The words appeared before them, written in an unknown yet strangely familiar language.

Eris traced them with her fingertips, and as if drawn by instinct, she spoke.

"By the echoes of the lost and the whispers of the past, We call upon the path unseen. Through sorrow and memory, through time and fire, Open the way, let the forgotten be free."

The Last Pillar answered.

A deep, resonating hum filled the chamber as the archway split open.

A shimmering blue pathway stretched beyond it, a road leading into the unknown.

Ash exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. "Finally."

Eris glanced back—one last time—at the chamber of memories.

Then, without another word, they stepped forward ready to leave this city before suddenly they heard a chime..

The murals on the Last Pillar shifted, their ancient images parting like curtains to reveal hidden runes that pulsed with a soft, otherworldly light.

Three distinct symbols now glowed along the obelisk's surface, each marking a final location where ETERNA's cursed magi had left behind remnants of lost power.

A shimmering notification materialized above them in a language that blended magic and technology:

> [System Notice: The Last Pillar has been activated.] You have 1 hour before the portal closes. Some remnants of ETERNA's lost magic have been revealed. Will you seize them or flee?

Eris's eyes narrowed as she absorbed the message. "One hour," she murmured, a mix of determination and apprehension in her tone. "This is our chance. We can't just walk through that portal without taking something with us to show for all the time spent here."

Ash's gaze flickered between the pulsing runes and the blue pathway that beckoned beyond the activation portal. "Eris… the purpose of the Gauntlet is to make us think like survivors, not players. Are you sure we should jinx it? An hour is too short to explore all those places."

The wind howled through the ruins, the ancient stone groaning beneath its weight. The murals rippled again—revealing a labyrinthine map of hidden sites:

• A vault beneath shattered archways,

• A sunken garden where nature and magic entwined,

• An ancient chamber, forever cloaked in twilight.

"These places," Eris said, her voice firm despite the underlying tension, "are the final beacons of power left behind by Eterna's magi. If we can harness even a fraction of their magic, it might turn the tide for us in the game ahead. Remember the point of this training is to grow stronger so we could survive the next stages"

Ash hesitated, his fingers tightening at his sides. Finally, he exhaled and nodded. "I want to check the sunken garden. Such a place calls out to me."

Eris studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Then I'll take the vault. There's a promise of raw, untamed power hidden there. If the sanctuary requires both of us, we'll meet there."

"Thirty minutes exploring our sites," Ash agreed. "Then we regroup."

A brief silence stretched between them, heavier than before. Ash glanced at the portal, then back at her. "Just… don't get reckless," he muttered.

Eris smirked, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Same to you."

For the first time, the weight of what lay ahead pressed down on them. This wasn't just about power—it was about survival, about seizing one last chance before the city erased all trace of its forgotten past.

They turned, each stepping into the dim corridors of Eterna's ruins.

The Last Pillar's eerie glow bathed the ancient stone in hope and melancholy as the countdown began—

One hour before the portal closed...

One hour to capture the fading echoes of magic..

One hour to decide the fate of their escape.