The atmosphere was as thick as a suffocating blanket clotted with damp soil and an acrid smell of burnt memories.

The darkness above swallowed up the ceiling and we were insects down the bottom of a well.

"GRIIIND... SCRRRAPE..."

The grinding of stone on stone attacked us. Entire parts of the labyrinth were turning and resettling directly in front of us.

It was a breathing puzzle box, the maze seemed alive, and we were trapped mice.

His knuckles turned white as Kaelen gave a gasp of terror.

"The walls... they're moving."

Seraphina was holding a drawn arrow, and she was proud, concealing her shredded nerves.

This density of mana is a psychic miasma. It is constructed in a way that makes people feel lost and scared.

She was right. The reverberations started nearly instantly, not of whispers only but of palpations.

We were hit by a cold wave of despair, then a burst of unreasoned anger, and then a sharp stab of deep loneliness. Even the air seemed to be a weapon.

It feeds on fear, I said, and my voice was deep and steady, and like a rock in the surging emotional wave.

"Don't give it anything to eat and Seraphina, keep an eye on our sides. "

The I turn to Kaelen and Alex .

"Kaelen, keep watch and guard of the clarity, should you be able. Alex, shield up. Stay with me."

Jerky but obedient movements were their reply. They had only on their side my certainty.

We forced further into the moving maze.

Whispers started to form, and gather in the darkness like smoke.

They were not mere goblins--they were ugly and individual.

Kaelen caught a glimpse in one corner of his eye of a huge spectral figure of his father with a mask of stern disappointment on his face.

It was a failure, said the echo, a blow at the heart, which hurt Kaelen to the very marrow.

"You shame our name. You will never be strong enough."

Kaelen stood still, his magic staff shaking, his breath following in a sob of choking.

The walls were distorting themselves into mirrors, hissing around Seraphina. In them she beheld an army of her fine competitors, whose features were distorted in scornful contempt.

A glance at her, sneered their voices through the glass.

"Teamed with commoners. Dragged down by the weak. She is a disgrace to Croft name."

Her bow was clenched in her hands and her shame and anger were struggling to control her and her aim was wavering.

For Alex, the stone floor beneath his feet turned to wet, clinging mud.

The jeering laughter of Russell Belnic and his cronies surrounded him.

"Pathetic. Rolling in the mud like a pig. You will always be beneath us."

He stumbled, his shield feeling impossibly heavy, the memory of his humiliation a physical weight pressing him down.

And then, it came for me.

The stone corridor dissolved, replaced by the suffocating clutter of my old apartment.

The glow of the computer monitor, the empty ramen cups, the hum of the PC tower. The ghost of my past life, Samar, hunched over the keyboard, his face pale and hollow.

"An extra," the phantom whispered, its voice a chilling echo of my own past despair. Its form was made of shifting, gray smoke, and tendrils of pure apathy snaked out from it, wrapping around my limbs, draining my will.

"You were just an extra then, and you're just an extra now. This isn't your story. You're just a player. You will fail them."

For a terrifying moment, the conviction that had driven me wavered. The cold loneliness of that past life washed over me.

『No.』

The thought was a blade of ice cutting through the fog. I channeled my own mana, my will forged into a weapon. The aura from Draken, even though the blade was virtual, pulsed in response.

'That life is over. I am not an extra anymore!'

With a silent roar of defiance, I shattered the illusion. The apartment faded, and the stone corridor snapped back into view.

My teammates were paralyzed, each trapped in their own personal hell, while the Echo Wraiths, the physical manifestations of their fears, began to solidify around them.

The wraith of Kaelen's father was a hulking brute of shadow, its fists crackling with psychic pressure. Seraphina was surrounded by a dozen flickering phantoms with daggers of scorn. And Alex was being circled by four wraiths whose laughter was a weapon in itself.

My Quantum Analysis Mind ignited.

I began to understand it.

'Psychic constructs. They are partially intangible, feeding on the emotional energy of their target. Direct attacks are useless until that connection is severed.'

I had to be their anchor, their blade.

"It's not real!" I shouted, my voice infused with a sliver of my own aura, a shockwave of pure will that cut through the psychic static.

"It's the labyrinth! It's a memory! Kaelen, your father isn't here! That is just an echo of your fear!

Seraphina, those aren't your rivals; they are illusions designed to break your focus! Alex, you are not in that courtyard! You are here, with us, and you are a warrior!"

My words were a lifeline. They flinched, their eyes clearing for a moment.

"The wraiths are tied to your fear!" I yelled. "To hurt them, you have to defy the memory! Kaelen, you are not a failure! Prove it! Cast your light!"

Kaelen, tears streaming down his face, looked from the phantom of his father to me. My unwavering gaze gave him the strength he needed. He raised his staff, his voice cracking but resolute.

"I am not… a failure!" He slammed his staff down.

"Holy Ward!" A pillar of light erupted, and the shadow-brute of his father shrieked as the light seared its form, making it solid, vulnerable.

"Seraphina! Your pride is your strength, not your weakness! Show them the skill that earned you your rank!"

Her jaw clenched. She took a deep breath, ignoring the mirrored taunts, and drew her bow. Her aim, once wavering, was now steady as stone.

"You are just echoes," she snarled, and let loose a volley of three arrows. Each one struck a phantom perfectly, and each phantom solidified with a hiss of pain.

"Alex! You are not a victim! You are a shield! Stand your ground!"

Alex let out a guttural roar. He slammed his shield into the ground, a shockwave of pure defiance spreading out. The wraiths of his bullies stumbled back, their forms flickering as their power over him waned.

The tide had turned. With their fears defied, the Echo Wraiths were now just glorified shadow monsters.

"Now!" I commanded. "Destroy them!"

What followed was not a battle, but an execution. Kaelen's light held the wraiths in place.

Seraphina's arrows pinned them down. Alex and I charged, a shield and a sword, and cut them down one by one.

When the last wraith dissolved, the corridor was silent. My team stood panting, exhausted, but transformed.

The fear in their eyes was gone, replaced by the hard-won clarity of those who have faced their demons and survived.

Our path forward led us to a vast, cavernous chamber. A chasm, impossibly deep, split the room in two.

From the abyss below, a cold, ghostly mist rose, carrying with it the renewed whispers of the labyrinth.

Spanning the chasm was a single, narrow bridge of what looked like crumbling, translucent crystal. It shimmered faintly, as if it were barely real.

"The Bridge of Burdens," I murmured, recognizing it from the game's lore.

"It looks… fragile," Kaelen whispered, his newfound confidence wavering as he stared into the misty depths.

As if on cue, the whispers intensified, coiling around us again. "You will fall… You are not worthy… Give up…"

I saw the crystal of the bridge flicker, turning more transparent as the whispers grew louder. My mind put the pieces together.

'It's a psychic construct. Its stability is tied to our willpower. The more we fear, the more it decays.'

This was the labyrinth's final psychological assault.

"Don't listen to it," I ordered. "The bridge is as strong as we are. Keep your minds clear."

But to say to them not to be afraid was like saying to them not to breathe. I might have noticed skepticism coming back to their eyes. I required something greater than an order--I required a symbol.

I turned to Alex. "Alex, you go first."

He stood still, and his eyes flashed to me, and were round with horror. "M-Me?"

"Yes, "I said, and my voice was firm, and there could not be any doubt. I touched his shoulder with a hand, and my eyes did not leave him.

*Because you have the most powerful will here and you have already proved it in your trial….also you proved it just now. You are our shield. You will not break. Go over that bridge and demonstrate to them that it is possible."

He looked at me, and his fear was fighting with the perfect confidence of his voice. He stared at the horrid abyss and then at me.

He saw no doubt in my eyes. He saw only certainty.

His breath was a shuddering one.

"I... I will."

He stepped onto the bridge. The crystal moaned at his weight.

The shrieks of the abyss were now deafening in his ears, and ghostly hands of fog were scratching at his legs.

"Coward! Weakling! You will fall!"

For a moment, he faltered. His bridge broke and a spider net of cracks shot out of his boot.

But then he recalled what I had said.

"You are a warrior." His knuckles were white about his shield, and he gritted his teeth.

"No," he grumbled to the whispers, to himself. "I am not weak."

He took another step. And another. The fear was there as a physical burden, yet the determination was even more. He was moving, and he was terrified.

(To be Continue)

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