Soren dreamt of a mountain.

One that was far out of reach, yet felt close enough to yearn for…

A mountain that seemed to call out for his name. Not in some metaphysical or spiritual sense… No, it was an earnest request. One that needed to be heard…

The Estuary… The words rang ever so softly in his mind. Reach the Estuary… of the Stars…

He could see a beacon at the very summit, as if something mysterious was announcing its presence, trying its best to draw him closer… And just as he was about to reach for it, to grasp it all within his palm, the vision vanished like smoke.

He was left to wallow in the darkness. Floating freely in an everlasting pool of shadows, drifting without a path…

Just as despair finally settled in, the dream ended.

Soren awoke under the crushing weight of something massive, as the air in his lungs felt thick and suffocating… A violent cough wracked his body, blood splattering with each desperate heave. The nausea of it all churned in his gut, but the pain grounded him…

He was alive.

He was back in the real world.

His eyes slowly fluttered to life. Smoke and dust filled his vision as the stomping boots of men and women came and went around him. Echoes of distant voices could be heard—some more desperate than others.

"I found him!" Said one voice that seemed eerily familiar. He felt the weight of those strange objects above him lifting, as if he was an ancient relic being uncovered beneath the sands of time.

Indeed, the dream he just envisioned had yet to leave his memory… The time he spent in that hollow void, yearning for the presence of the mountain… It felt truly long… Long enough for him to reminisce…

Where… was I?... Why did I see a vision like that…

"Soren! Soren, are you alright?!" The desperate voice clawed its way through the rubble. Moments later, he felt the touch of a hand—one that was strangely soft… Then, more and more hands joined in the effort—he felt himself being lifted out of something.

Eventually his body finally felt freed. Another wave of coughing hit him hard, leaving him more hazy than before. And yet, a warm feeling that seemed to spread from his chest to the rest of him countered the pain… He glanced up to see a blonde figure gritting his teeth as sweat dripped from his chin.

"Myrin…" He croaked—the handsome elf noticed and smiled.

"Bless the blossoms! You're alive…"

He slowly glanced down at his own body. Aside from a few scratches, he was largely uninjured. But because of the massive rubble that landed on top of him after his fall, a few of his ribs were broken. One of them must have come close to puncturing his lung…

Myrin continued to apply his healing spell as he laid there, thinking over everything. His past, his goals, his debts, and… his wretched fate which was driving him closer and closer toward that mountain…

Mount Tolarion. Home to Mistress Sienna's ancestors. Far beyond the three temples, up above the summit lies something that he must seek…

Dream Divinations that occur randomly usually means that my Astral Projection has been acting as a medium… He thought as the world spun around him.

However, that usually only happens to those with an affinity for Spirits…

Is it due to my existence being… ambiguous? Even now, his status sheet has yet to change back to listing him as 'Human.' When he asked the flame, it immediately admitted that it was not intentionally hiding that information.

In truth, even the Figment of his Imagination had no idea how to categorize him…

All around him, the frantic steps of civilians who had likely left their shelter to help the remaining dungeon explorers could be heard. Women raced to find whatever was left of their husbands, brothers, fathers… The cries of children mixed with the cacophony of cheers from those who survived.

Surrounded in this chaos, Soren felt his mind clearing up rather quickly.

Regardless of the reason, he thought, it is obvious what that vision wants me to do…

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Climb the mountain.

The message couldn't have been more clear. He needed to reach that summit. Whether he trusted what he'll find there or not did not matter anymore. He had no choice—fate will find a way to drive him in that direction regardless of his resistance.

Suddenly, he remembered Sienna's parting words to him:

"You may have twisted fate, but only by breaking something else…"

His lips couldn't help curling up into a maddening smile. Myrin noticed his behavior and decided to ask, "What are you smiling about?"

"Our path ahead," he said in a low voice… His throat was burning with every sound he made. "This journey I am taking… It makes me wonder sometimes if I am like a moth slowly flying toward the light, only to have my wings burn in the process…"

Hearing this, Myrin couldn't help but chuckle. Covered in dirt, he glanced up at the distant clouds… The light of the Silver-Eyed Moon was slowly phasing through, as if its shine was inevitable.

"Is that not our purpose in life? To do things beyond our means, and to burn in the process…

"At least, that was how I interpreted the mistress' goal… Creating a new era—one where the fate of this world isn't frozen solid… Where the future could unfold freely once more…"

Suddenly, he heard the sound of heavy steps approaching. Myrin tilted his head as well to see who it was.

"Is that brat alive? I didn't think our rough landing would hurt him that much, is he made of twigs and strings? How could he be this weak!"

Myrin chuckled. "Old man, how can us magi match your insane standards of strength… Soren here is just a 1st Circle Junior Initiate!"

Soren slowly glanced over to where the voice was coming from. Rodrick Witguard—the old veteran was standing there with his arms crossed, looking down at him from above. He scoffed with a shrug, "Excuses! Even magi can train their bodies! You both need more exercise!"

Myrin shook his head then stopped his healing spell. Soren also noticed the pain finally going away, but it was still hard for him to stand up.

He decided to ask, "Did… we kill them all?... The battle is over, right?"

Rodrick grinned, "Who do you think I am? Why would I let those pathetic bugs live?"

"Fair point…"

"Still," he insisted. "I must thank you. Without your intel and guidance, this town would have been slaughtered… And most likely, those creatures would have climbed up the mountain to attack Celestine next. We stopped a tragedy from happening…

"On behalf of the Aelloran Government, I owe you and your companions a massive debt. You have truly saved us all."

As he said this, the old dungeon explorer bowed respectfully. Those who were frantically searching for survivors around them noticed and paused, then similarly bowed in the direction of the two magi.

Seeing this, Myrin chuckled, "Our lives were also at stake. We only did what needed to be done."

Rodrick sighed, "As expected of that witch's senior apprentice—ever to give up due credit. How is Tina doing, by the way?"

Hearing his question, the Soothing Bard frowned. "She's doing well… They're probably heading to Luvinica as we speak."

"Luvinica, huh…" The old man seemed to have a lot of things he wanted to say, but decided to hold back. "If you see her again, tell her that I will gladly accept her as my disciple if she ever changes her mind."

"Disciple?" Rodrick's words left Soren stunned. Hearing his question, Myrin turned to him and nodded:

"Indeed. Back when Tina and Joyce illegally crossed the border into Celestine, they were confronted by Rodrick here… He was heavily impressed by her skills and wanted her to become his disciple."

"And she refused?!" He glanced over at Rodrick in shock. This man… He had single handedly destroyed an entire army of creatures in a single attack… Sentinels in the 5th Class were called Knight Captains for a reason. And many of them rarely worked as dungeon explorers—usually, they were groomed by organizations and factions to become soldiers. The opportunity to learn from someone as experienced as Rodrick doesn't come to just anyone…

Myrin sighed, "Rodrick's requirements were far too strict—he wanted her to join him on his dungeon expeditions. But that also meant leaving her sister behind—something Tina would never have been able to do."

"I see…"

Hearing this, Rodrick scoffed. "Danger follows us wherever we go. Having familial attachments will only drag us back during our expeditions."

All Myrin could do was smile and shrug. He then turned to Soren—this time, his face was serious.

"Soren, be honest with me. You have uncovered a lot more information on these creatures than you told us initially, right? You didn't tell us because there was no time back then, but now…

"I want to hear it. What the hell are these Soul Skinners."

The question made even Rodrick pause and look at him. The two gazed curiously at him, awaiting his answer.

After a moment of contemplation, he finally let out a sigh.

"Those things… They are born from The Nameless Mist."

The revelation left them stunned, but also, it lacked any surprise. All Myrin could do was stay silent whilst frowning. Soren continued:

"According to [Eyes of the Fairy], they are a breed of Malevolent Hexes… Most likely, the predecessor to the Memory Void Spirits and the Memory Void Husks. The ones we saw in Yadria were likely modeled after this one—albeit, whatever magecraft was used to make them is far superior to the methods the Whispering Dream used…

"So in essence, our theory is true. The Nameless Mist—It likely originated from the Age of Mysteries. The Avalon Empire used it for something in the past…"

As the silence overwhelmed them, Soren couldn't help but glance over to where Rodrick was standing. The old veteran had his arms crossed, as if in deep thought. Then, out of nowhere, he began to smile…

He couldn't tell whether it was one of excitement, or madness… Or maybe, both.

"The whispers seem to grow," Myrin said with a sigh. "If these creatures were a part of some trap within the Avalon Ruins, then that must mean they had somehow escaped their usual area… Do you know what that means, Soren?"

Hearing his question, Soren couldn't help but laugh nervously.

"It means our plan of navigating the dungeon just got ten times harder…"

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