The Cathedral Below

The cathedral doors groaned as they opened, dust spilling out like breath from a long-dead mouth.

Inside, it was colder than the Hollow Valley mist. The floor was cracked stone, covered in markings—runes older than written history, pulsing faintly beneath the dust.

Coker stepped inside first. His mark burned like fire across his chest, but he didn't stop. Something beyond those doors… was calling him.

Naia, Elira, and Lira followed, silent and tense. The air inside the cathedral felt strange. Thicker. It bent sound, as if whispers bounced from the walls—but none of them had spoken.

As they descended the marble steps, the walls began to glow softly. Scenes carved in relief: kings kneeling before thrones of flame, cities crumbling under spells too large to name, and in the center of it all…

A man with no face.

Holding a sword made of names.

"That's… Kael," Lira whispered, voice trembling.

Coker's heart pounded.

"How do you know?"

"I don't," she replied.

"But I feel it."

The stairs ended at a round chamber—an underground sanctuary.

In the center stood a pedestal, and on it, a mask.

Black.

Cracked.

Bleeding shadows.

The voice from before returned, echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once:

"He took the name of God… and became cursed. Will you do the same?"

Coker stepped forward.

The mask pulsed.

His mark flared.

Then he saw—

A flash of Kael. Younger. In the same chamber. Alone.

He stared at the mask. Hands shaking.

Behind him, a man in white robes pleaded:

"Don't put it on. That name doesn't belong to you!"

Kael laughed.

"That's why I'm taking it."

He placed the mask on his face—

And screamed.

The mark on his body exploded with power. Wings of light and shadow burst from his back.

The chamber cracked.

The vision ended.

Coker stumbled, gasping for breath. Elira caught him.

"You saw something."

He nodded.

"Kael… He took the mask. And it changed him."

Naia looked at the pedestal.

"Is this how he gained his throne-level power?"

"Or how he lost his soul," Elira said coldly.

The room shook.

From the walls, dozens of glyphs lit up.

And the mask rose into the air, spinning.

From the shadows emerged a new figure.

Not the Mirror Man.

Not Kael.

A knight in rusted armor, its helm shaped like a cracked bell.

In one hand, he held a staff made from fused swords.

In the other, a floating book whose pages wrote themselves in blood.

He spoke without moving his mouth.

"You are not yet ready to bear a throne."

"Then let me prove I am," Coker said, stepping forward.

The knight raised his staff.

And the cathedral transformed.

The ceiling vanished into a night sky filled with falling stars.

The floor cracked, shifting into a battlefield of shattered glass.

The others were gone—only Coker remained.

A trial.

The knight pointed the staff at him.

Coker felt his body twist—his magic burn—his heart ache.

Memories surged. Mina's voice. The villagers' laughter. Kael's bloodstained smile. His own fear of being nothing.

He screamed.

The mark on his chest exploded in red light.

He launched forward, fist glowing with cursed energy.

The knight blocked it easily—one swing of his staff shattered Coker's attack.

But Coker didn't stop.

He remembered Mina's words.

"Even if you have no rank… never stop moving."

He darted left, summoned shards of flame. Threw them like knives.

Dodged. Rolled. Swung.

The knight countered every strike.

Until—

Coker tricked him.

He tossed the mirror shard mid-swing.

The knight turned—

And Coker punched directly into his chest, mark-first.

BOOM.

The battlefield cracked.

The knight staggered.

A sliver of golden light broke through the black.

Coker pressed in, pushing deeper, deeper—until—

CRASH!

The knight's helm shattered.

But underneath, there was no face.

Only… Coker's own reflection.

Twisted.

Smiling.

"You already bear a throne," the mirror-Coker said.

"You just haven't claimed it yet."

Then the world snapped.

He fell—

And landed back in the cathedral chamber.

The others were around him, staring in shock.

Elira pointed.

The mask was gone.

In its place floated a fragment of something ancient:

A name.

Glowing. Unspoken. Forbidden.

It etched itself into Coker's mark, burning deeper than any wound.

He collapsed.

Naia caught him.

"What was it? What name?"

Coker looked at her, eyes glowing faintly gold.

"I don't know. But I think it was mine."

The chamber shook once more.

A deep, ancient roar echoed from beneath the cathedral.

And the voice returned—no longer distant.

"You've taken the path. Now walk it… until the end."