[Crit]: Deciphering the Archaic Script

Their journey through the Whispering Labyrinth continued, a strange partnership of two vastly different talents. Zian, now fully trusting Amrit's unconventional methods, took the lead. His Celestial Abacus spun and clicked, its intricate gears deciphering the subtle flows of energy and intent woven into the maze's fabric. He would point the way, guiding them through shifting corridors and across treacherous, illusionary chasms with the confidence of a master navigator.

Amrit followed, his role that of a conceptual juggernaut. Whenever the labyrinth manifested a new challenge, he would meet it not with force, but with a singular, overwhelming application of will.

They encountered a corridor where the walls wept a river of sorrow, an emotional trap designed to drown a cultivator in despair. Amrit simply walked through it, the boundless, tranquil ocean of his Spirit Sea rendering him immune to the psychic assault. The river of sorrow parted for him as if he were a holy man striding through the sea.

They were confronted by a Golem of Adamantine, a construct of immense physical durability. While Zian frantically calculated its structural weaknesses, Amrit drew Soul-Sunder and passed the blade through its leg, not breaking it, but using a targeted Spatial Severance to teleport a single, crucial connecting joint a foot to the left. The golem collapsed into a heap of useless, clattering parts.

With every challenge they overcame, Zian's awe deepened. Amrit didn't just solve problems; he invalidated them. He played by a set of rules that the labyrinth, for all its ancient power, seemed completely unprepared for. Their progress was incredibly fast, far outpacing what any single student, even Vikramaditya, could hope to achieve.

After what felt like an hour of travel, Zian's abacus led them to a dead end. They stood before a single, massive door made of ancient, petrified wood, banded with bronze that had long since oxidized to a dull green. The door was sealed shut, and a palpable aura of immense age and power radiated from it. There was no handle, no lock, only a single, large bronze plaque set in its center.

"This is it," Zian breathed, his eyes fixed on the door. "My abacus indicates that this is the final gateway. The exit, and the Glimmer-Stone we need to retrieve, is on the other side. But the energy signature… it's ancient. Primordial."

Amrit stepped forward to examine the plaque. It was covered in a script he had never seen before, not even in the deepest archives of the Kshirapura Royal Library. The characters were complex, elegant, and seemed to hum with a dormant power. They were less like letters and more like intricate, self-contained formations.

"Archaic Celestial," Zian identified instantly, his scholar's excitement overriding his caution. "This is the language of the First Men, from before the age of the Devas! It's said to be the original human tongue, a language where words themselves had the power to shape reality. Most of it has been lost to time. Only a handful of scholars in the entire continent can decipher a few phrases."

A new voice, the ancient librarian's from the previous challenge, echoed in their minds.

"The final test. The words of the Founders bar the way. Speak the key, and the path shall be revealed. The tongue of power yields only to a mind of wisdom."

Zian's face fell. "A linguistic test. And with the most difficult script in existence. This is a cruel joke." He approached the plaque, his fingers tracing the strange characters. "I recognize some of these root symbols from my sect's texts. This one here means 'sky' or 'heaven.' And this one… possibly 'soul' or 'spirit.' But to string them together into a coherent phrase with the correct pronunciation… the syntax of the Archaic Tongue is a complete mystery. Uttering the wrong sound could cause a fatal backlash of power."

He shook his head in defeat. "We are stuck. This is a challenge designed for a linguistic sage, not a cultivator. It would take years of dedicated study to even begin to translate this."

Amrit looked at the plaque. He saw the beautiful, complex characters. He saw the dormant power sleeping within them. To him, this wasn't an obstacle. It was an opportunity. An opportunity to test the limits of his system's comprehension ability on something truly ancient and profound.

He placed his hand gently on the cool bronze of the plaque. He closed his eyes and focused his intent with a clarity that was becoming second nature.

System. Decipher this Archaic Celestial script. Understand its meaning, its syntax, and its proper, power-infused pronunciation.

[Profound Cognitive Action: Deciphering a Lost Primordial Language.]

[Target: Archaic Celestial Script (Founder's Inscription).]

[The complexity and conceptual weight of this language are extreme.]

[Crit Chance detected… High, due to Host's Transcendent Mastery of learning and comprehension.]

[…Triggering a 1000x Crit!]

The world inside Amrit's head exploded into a universe of sound and meaning.

The 1000x multiplier didn't just give him a translation. It gave him a total, instantaneous, and perfect immersion into the language itself. The barrier of time collapsed. He felt the thoughts of the Founder who had carved these words. He understood the worldview of the First Men, a time when humanity walked the world as young gods, their every word a magical decree.

He didn't just learn the vocabulary; he understood the philosophy behind the grammar. He learned that Archaic Celestial had no past or future tense, only a perpetual, powerful present. He learned that nouns and verbs were interchangeable, and that the intent of the speaker defined the function of the word. He learned the precise vibrations in the throat, the exact shape of the mouth, and the specific spiritual resonance required to make the words sing with their original power.

In the span of a single heartbeat, a language that had been lost to the world for millennia became as natural to him as his own mother tongue. He possessed a mastery of it that likely surpassed anyone currently alive.

He opened his eyes. The strange, alien characters on the plaque were no longer mysterious. They were as clear and simple as a nursery rhyme. He read the inscription aloud in his mind:

"The sky drinks the spirit, the spirit holds the sky. Only by surrendering the self can the self be found. The key is not a word, but a state of being: Ego-Death."

It was a philosophical riddle. The door would not open to a password, but to a demonstration of understanding.

Zian was still hunched over the plaque, trying to piece together the meaning of a single character. "I think this phrase might mean 'great power'… or possibly 'spicy meatball.' The syntax is a nightmare!"

Amrit stepped back from the door. He turned to face it fully. He took a deep, centering breath, and his entire presence changed.

He released his control over his own aura. He let go of his sense of self, his identity as Amrit, his memories of Earth. He submerged his consciousness into the boundless, silent ocean of his Spirit Sea, achieving a state of perfect, thoughtless tranquility. He became a void, a vessel, a perfect mirror reflecting the world without judgment or ego. He achieved the state of being the inscription demanded: Ego-Death.

As he entered this state, the ancient door, which had been dormant for centuries, began to respond.

The bronze plaque flared with a brilliant golden light. The Archaic Celestial characters pulsed in sympathy with Amrit's empty, tranquil spirit. A deep, groaning sound echoed through the chamber as ancient, magical locks, untouched for ages, began to disengage.

With a shudder that shook the entire platform, the massive petrified wood door slowly, ponderously, swung inward, revealing the path beyond.

Zian, who had been engrossed in his linguistic struggles, looked up just in time to see the colossal door opening. He stared at it, then back at Amrit, who stood serenely as if he had done nothing at all.

"It… it opened?" Zian stammered, his mind failing to make the connection. "How? What was the key? Did you figure out the phrase?"

Amrit let his sense of self flow back into his body, his eyes regaining their usual sharp focus. "The key was not a word to be spoken, but a concept to be embodied."

He walked through the open gateway.

Inside was a small, circular chamber. In its center, on a simple stone pedestal, rested a single, fist-sized crystal. It glowed with a soft, internal light, shifting through all the colors of the rainbow. It was the Glimmer-Stone, the objective of the trial. Just beyond it, another swirling grey portal was visible—the exit.

Amrit picked up the stone. It was cool to the touch and pulsed with a pure, neutral energy.

He turned to Zian, who was still standing in the doorway, looking back and forth between the open door and Amrit with an expression of complete, dazed awe.

"You didn't translate it," Zian whispered, the unbelievable truth finally dawning on him. "You… you became it. You achieved a spiritual state described in a dead language that you couldn't possibly have read."

Amrit offered a small, enigmatic smile. "The heart can sometimes understand what the mind cannot."

He held up the Glimmer-Stone. "We have our prize. Shall we go?"

Zian stumbled into the chamber, shaking his head as if to clear it. His worldview, which was based on the orderly acquisition and application of knowledge, had been dealt another devastating blow. Amrit didn't follow the rules. He transcended them. He didn't solve the puzzles. He was the answer.

Together, they stepped through the exit portal, leaving the Whispering Labyrinth behind. They had faced its guardians, its traps of knowledge, and its ancient riddles. And they had emerged, victorious, far sooner than anyone could have predicted. Their partnership, a union of supreme intellect and conceptual power, had been a resounding success.