The moment Marcus stepped through the second veil, he staggered.
Not from impact—but from stillness.
No sound. No movement. No pressure beneath his feet or shift in the air. The floor wasn't stone anymore. It was grass—lush, impossibly green, and soft beneath his boots, like stepping into the memory of summer. Above, the sky was a vast dome of muted gold, stretched like brushed metal, giving off a warm, sourceless glow.
The world around him felt wrong again—but not like before.
This time, it wasn't chaos. It was... peace.
Perfect, manufactured peace.
Marcus took a cautious step forward. Grass rustled beneath him, damp with dew. A breeze touched his cheek, and birdsong echoed from somewhere beyond the treeline.
A treeline.
He blinked.
A forest ringed the meadow—vast trees with deep violet leaves and silver bark, towering above with branches that wept strands of glowing mist. They swayed gently even though the air was still.
Then, the system spoke.
Trial Initiated: The Garden of Echoes
Objective: Reach the Heart of the Garden.
Condition: Maintain your direction.
He frowned. "Direction?"
This time, no collapsing floor, no hissing stone. No threat to force his hand.
He could turn back. In fact, there was no wall behind him now—only open field stretching endlessly.
Still, he picked a line and started walking.
The garden shifted immediately.
Not violently. Subtly.
He felt it before he saw it: a dissonance in his steps. A gentle pull at his shoulders, like walking through soft currents in shallow water. The trees swayed in a different direction now, guiding him left. The wind shifted, carrying whispers—not words, but memories.
Then something stepped out from the treeline.
A boy.
No older than ten. Freckled face. Wide eyes.
Marcus froze.
Because he knew that face.
It was his own. Not how he was now, but how he had once been—before the world changed. Before the System. Before him.
The younger Marcus looked up at him, eyes filled with hope.
"You don't have to keep going," the boy said. "They'll forgive you. We can turn back. Mom's waiting."
His voice cracked.
Marcus felt the pull intensify—not physical, but emotional. Like gravity made of guilt.
He took a step forward.
The boy reached out. "Please. You're going the wrong way."
Marcus hesitated.
The moment he did, the ground beneath him cracked with a flash of silver energy. Roots shot up from the grass—gnarled and fast—trying to tangle his feet.
He lunged forward, momentum snapping back into him like a whip, and the vines shriveled before they touched him.
"Right," he muttered. "Don't stop. Don't stray."
The Garden wasn't like the Labyrinth. It didn't punish doubt with blades. It punished purpose with temptation.
He walked faster.
The illusions grew bolder.
A girl stepped from the mist next. Long black hair, warm brown eyes. She smiled, holding a book. His favorite from when he was a kid.
"You always wanted to live," she said. "Not just survive. What you're doing now—this trial—it's not living. It's just enduring. Come rest with me."
The smell of bread, of firelight and safety, flooded his senses.
He shook his head and walked through her. She dissolved into wind.
But the pain of memory lingered, clinging like oil to his skin.
A young boy appeared next, similar to the first illusion but different. He appeared the same age as young me, similar face structure and hair color but no freckles nor my blue eyes. Then it hit me.
"Daniel…" I whispered.
"Why don't you look for us Marcus? You haven't tried to reach your family since we came here. How come you lose yourself in this new world and cast everything old to the trash, like it doesn't belong in your new ideology?"
"I do think of yall! I miss everyone every second I'm away fighting constantly, struggling to survive!" by this point I'm crying, my percentage until failure climbing higher as I stop to argue with this illusion of my brother.
Warning: Purpose drift 9%
Penalty at 10%: Failure of trial
"No, you don't care about us anymore, we're just something of the past, people who don't matter to new Marcus"
"You're nothing more than an illusion created by this damn trial! You want me to fail you failure of my mind" bursting forward I slash through it closing my eyes and breathing as it turns into mist and vanishing from my sight. I continue forward. Advancing on my purpose.
He passed a dozen more illusions: friends he'd lost, family he'd failed, versions of himself that had stopped, that had turned away.
Each one pleaded.
Each one accused.
Each one tried to convince him that forward wasn't the right direction.
And with each step, the pressure grew.
His HUD pulsed red around the edges.
Warning: Purpose Drift 3%.
Marcus gritted his teeth. "Not today."
He didn't just move now. He focused. Focused on his path. On the truth in his core—that motion without direction was nothing, and that his path wasn't given to him. He chose it. He had chosen this, again and again.
The Garden responded with desperation.
The terrain shifted—trees curling inward, paths folding into spirals. The air buzzed with static. Illusions turned to specters, their faces twisted, mouths filled with writhing vines.
One of them whispered, "You'll never reach it. What's the point?"
Marcus drew his sword.
Not to attack—but to anchor.
He stabbed it into the ground, eyes fixed ahead.
"My point," he said quietly, "is that I never want to go back."
He surged forward again.
Time passed in strange fragments. The HUD didn't show hours—just percentage. Purpose Drift: 6%, then 4%, then 7%, then 3%.
But as long as he kept moving, kept choosing, the path remained.
And finally, through the curtain of illusions, through the whispering mist, he saw it.
A tree.
Not massive. Not ancient.
Simple.
Alive.
At the center of the Garden, it stood alone—a willow with roots spiraling out in precise radial lines. The branches did not weep like the others. They stood upright, glowing faintly with motionless wind.
Beneath it, a small altar.
And hovering above it: a crystal.
Not spinning like before. Not moving at all.
Waiting.
Marcus stepped into the clearing, and the noise of the Garden vanished.
Everything went still.
Trial of Momentum – Phase Two Complete.
You did not stray.
You did not forget.
You chose.
And you kept choosing.
[Momentum Trial Fragment Acquired: 2/3]
The crystal descended slowly, pressing into his chest with the soft weight of purpose fulfilled.
This time, he didn't collapse.
He stood tall, breathing hard, heart hammering—but calm.
Not because the Trial had ended.
But because he knew what the final one would be.
Not to run.
Not to choose.
But to carry it all.
And he was ready.