Date: April X787
Location: Vault Sanctum — Spiral Mirror Arena, Magnolia
They moved in perfect silence — her reflections.
Each one stepped forward with measured purpose, embodying pieces of her technique. They weren't illusions, and they weren't exact copies. They felt real, though their Yoki signatures trembled with distortion.
She took them in at a glance.
One carried her precision.
Another, her raw speed.
A third held her calm defensive guard.
A fourth mimicked her aggression — a stance she hadn't used since the Trial of Blood and Chains.
The fifth simply watched, poised, almost too still.
And the sixth — the most dangerous — stood motionless. Balanced. Waiting.
Teresa stepped into the spiral ring without hesitation.
As soon as she crossed the threshold, the chamber shifted. The walls dimmed, and the exit behind her dissolved into mirrorlight. The glyphs went quiet, as if the entire room had taken a breath.
The test had begun.
Location: Spiral Arena — Combat Floor
The first reflection lunged without a sound.
Fast — faster than most warriors could dream. It swung in a diagonal arc, copying her old blade path from a fight long past.
She pivoted, catching the strike with a barely-there parry. The copy shimmered, wavered, then dissolved into drifting threads of light.
The second came from her left, sliding across the floor like a ghost. Its swing mimicked her Silken Nerve Control — twisted, imperfect.
She ducked low and drove her elbow into its center. The figure buckled, then evaporated.
The third — the defensive echo — didn't rush her. It circled, eyes sharp, measuring her every step.
The fourth charged straight in, blade raised high, wild and reckless. Teresa slid sideways in half a Phantom Step, her sword drawing a clean horizontal arc. The pressure alone unmade it.
Then came the fifth. The watcher.
It moved without a weapon, breathing irregularly. She closed the distance to force its hand.
Nothing.
Then, it shifted, matching her stance exactly. Her movements were mirrored.
When she attacked, it met her blow precisely, as though they had rehearsed together.
This one wasn't imitating her past.
It was copying her now.
Location: Council Watchpoint — Glyph Relay Chamber, Era
Ethne stood beside the scrying basin, her expression drawn tight.
"Anything new?" Jura asked as he stepped forward.
Ethne projected the glyph patterns into the air. "It's an evolving net. It's not just recording her; it's learning her in real time."
Jura frowned. "If she fails...?"
"Then the vault disperses her technique across the underground grid. Her movements, her instincts — scattered as data. Tools for anyone who finds it later."
Jura's gaze darkened. "A living echo."
Ethne nodded once. "Exactly."
Location: Spiral Mirror Arena — Center Stage
Teresa tightened her grip as she circled the last echo — the sixth.
It still hadn't moved. But as she shifted, it turned to follow. No anticipation, no threat. Just complete, eerie calm.
She finally struck, her blade slicing forward in a fast, clean line.
The echo moved before her sword did.
Their blades clashed. Her wrist shuddered — the first time she had felt that resistance in years. The echo hadn't reacted. It had predicted her.
Every breath she took, every pause, every faint flex of muscle — it saw. It filled in the gaps before she could close them.
She moved faster.
It adapted.
She slowed down.
It softened.
It wasn't just testing her skill. It was questioning her choices.
Why did she hold back?
Why didn't she kill first?
Why did she measure her blows instead of crushing her enemy outright?
Then — it spoke. In her voice.
"You measure too much."
She didn't waver.
"You withhold mercy."
She narrowed her gaze. "I withhold nothing."
"Then why do you never strike first?"
She answered the only way she knew: she attacked.
The echo staggered. Her blade slipped past its guard — not a killing blow, but decisive enough to break its form.
Light flooded from its body, then it vanished like the others.
But the chamber didn't reopen.
Location: Central Vault Heart
A voice rose, ancient and echoing from nowhere.
"Recorded. Measured. Retained."
"Not a weapon. Not savior."
"Not human. Not Claymore. Not mage."
"You are an echo. You are an anchor. You are the threshold."
The glyphs around her dimmed, turning pale silver.
Then, a final sigil rose from the floor — bearing only her name.
And silence.
A new opening shimmered behind her. No reward. No final warning. Just a simple invitation to leave.
The test had not been about whether she could survive.
It had been about whether Earthland could endure what she embodied.