The mist thickened again as we wandered deeper past the stone arch. Our footsteps echoed softly against the broken marble floor, until the land dipped into a shallow clearing.
There — scattered among fallen columns and moss-eaten crates — was what looked like an old camp. Torn tents, collapsed wagons, extinguished lanterns; remnants of lives long gone, but strangely intact enough to recognize.
"Looks like someone used to camp here," Esther murmured, brushing dust from a half-buried kettle. "Probably explorers… or pilgrims," I replied. "Whoever they were, they left in a hurry."
We moved quietly, setting down what we had left of our supplies near a half-standing tent pole. I propped up the torn canvas to make a temporary lean-to while Esther checked the surroundings. The air here was calmer — not silent, but muffled, like the mist itself was watching.
After a while, we managed to coax a small fire into life using old scraps of parchment and dry cloth. Its faint orange glow fought back the gray around us, though the light barely extended beyond a few meters.
Esther knelt near the flames, her expression thoughtful. "The serpent's scroll… the way it appeared, and the tremors after. It wasn't coincidence, right?"
I shook my head. "No. Whatever these scrolls hold, they're fragments of something — memories, power, maybe even curses."
She leaned closer to the fire. "Then we're dealing with history that refuses to stay buried."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and true.
After a moment, Esther stood up. "I'll check the perimeter. See if we're near any water source." "Be careful," I said. "The mist feels heavier here."
She nodded and stepped away, her sword flame flickering as she disappeared beyond the edge of the ruined tents.
I stayed by the fire, tending to it with a quiet rhythm — feeding it bits of debris, listening to the crackle and the distant hum of unseen things. Time passed strangely here; seconds could have been minutes, or hours.
Then —"Regina!"
Esther's voice cut through the mist, alarmed but not panicked.
I grabbed my weapon and rushed toward her voice.
She was kneeling beside a shallow ravine just a few meters away. At first, I thought it was fog seeping from the earth — but then I saw it.
A river. Or what used to be one.
It flowed unnaturally slow, its surface smooth and thick — not clear water, but milky, opalescent, shimmering faintly like liquid marble. It wasn't the reflection of the mist. The river itself was white.
I crouched beside her. "This… isn't normal water."
Esther dipped a stick in, then pulled it out — the tip had turned pale, brittle, as though drained of life. She grimaced. "White Death. The man mentioned it back at the cemetery."
I nodded slowly, watching the slow pulse of the water. It seemed alive, breathing faintly. "What do you think caused it?"
She stared at the current. "If that scroll's story is true… then maybe this is what's left of the serpent's tears."
The thought chilled me. A river born from sorrow — feeding on the memory of defeat.
We both stood there for a while, saying nothing. The air smelled faintly metallic, tinged with something sweet — decay disguised as perfume.
"Let's not stay near it," I said. "If the water can drain the life from wood, I don't want to know what it does to skin."
Esther agreed and stepped back, though her eyes lingered on the pale stream. "It's strange," she said quietly. "It looks peaceful… but I can feel it staring back."
We returned to camp in silence.
As I rekindled the fire, I noticed faint markings etched on one of the crates — the same scale sigil we'd followed earlier. Underneath it, a faint inscription barely visible beneath the dirt: "Balance begets consequence."
My hand brushed the satchel. The second scroll — sealed with the same symbol — throbbed faintly in response.
Esther glanced at me. "You feel it too?"
I nodded. "It's reacting."
The flame dimmed as the mist swirled tighter around our small shelter, whispering through the cracks.
Esther sat closer to the fire, gripping her sword. "Do you think we should read it now?"
I hesitated. Part of me wanted to rest — the other part knew the scroll wouldn't let us sleep until we did.
The river outside gushed softly, the rhythm of its current almost human, almost whispering words we couldn't quite hear.
I exhaled slowly. "Alright… let's see what the scales have to show us."
The scroll pulsed once, twice — then broke its seal.
The light we were expecting faded—vanished into nothing. And that same heavy, suffocating feeling returned.
Something was wrong. Something wasn't letting us past the first scroll.
The mist thickened around us, pulsing like a living thing. Every sound died. Even our footsteps seemed swallowed by the fog.
Then—the ground trembled. A vast shadow rose from below the mist, stretching high enough to blot out what little light we had left.
Both Esther and I froze. Our breaths caught.
I wanted to think—I needed to think—that this was another illusion. But… our eyes couldn't lie.
We turned slowly. And there, before us, was the Serpent of the Mist.
No longer a legend. No longer a verse in the scroll. Its body coiled endlessly into the fog, scales fractured like broken porcelain, bleeding soft streams of white light. Its eyes, once divine and calm, now burned faintly with sorrow and madness.
The serpent's mouth opened, not to roar—but to speak.
Not in sound, but in thought that tore through our minds.
"Children… of the fleeing light…"
Esther flinched, clutching her head. I felt it too—a voice like a thousand echoes, full of regret.
"For I am no longer whole… Evil has consumed what I once was." "Once I guarded the rivers of white… now I poison them with my breath."
Its vast form shuddered, pieces of its cracked scales falling into the mist below like dying embers. Each one that fell hissed, dissolving into streams that fed the white current flowing around us.
"Children of the fleeing light… let my remaining blood speak." "You must end me… end me and you shall pass the Twelve Trials of the Great Writer…"
Esther shook her head in disbelief. "End you? We—we can't—"
But before her words could finish, the serpent's body trembled again. The mist around it began to move—no, spiral.
It twisted violently, pulling the air into a vortex, dragging everything toward the serpent's glowing core. I grabbed Esther's hand, but the pull was too strong.
"Esther—!"
The serpent's voice echoed one last time, louder, sorrowful, almost pleading.
"Do not fear the river… for in it lies truth." "Do what must be done… before I become the storm itself."
Then the mist erupted, enveloping everything in blinding white.
Our bodies lifted—weightless, spinning—until there was no ground, no air, no horizon.
Just light. And then—water.
Everywhere.
We found ourselves standing in a world made entirely of flowing white rivers. The ground was liquid, yet solid enough to hold our steps. Streams crossed above us like mirrored bridges, and from the horizon to the sky, everything shimmered in the same eternal glow.
The serpent's voice lingered faintly, fading into the endless current.
"End me… and you shall pass…""…the Twelve Trials of the Great Writer."
Then silence.
Only the gentle rush of the white river surrounded us—and the knowledge that this was no ordinary realm.
It was his prison .And our first trial had just begun.
The white river began to stir.
At first, only a ripple — faint, circular, harmless. Then the currents twisted against one another, churning like a sea in rebellion. The once-serene glow of the river fractured into shards of light, and the mist above responded — it breathed.
The surface broke.
A long, fissured horn emerged first, slick with liquid light. Then another followed, trailing ribbons of white water that hung in the air like torn veils. The sound — a deep, groaning rumble that felt less like thunder and more like the world itself straining to remember an ancient pain.
From the heart of the river, the Serpent of the Mist rose.
Its ascent was slow, deliberate — a leviathan awakening from centuries of regret. Every movement displaced torrents of glowing water that spiraled around its massive body. Cracked scales reflected the world in shattered fragments, each one gleaming with trapped memories: images of temples collapsing, figures in white screaming, rivers running black before turning pale again.
Its neck extended skyward, impossibly high, until the clouds themselves seemed to bend around it. Each exhale was a gale that scattered droplets of light into the air, raining down as silent tears. From its maw leaked a dull golden glow — like fire suffocating beneath ash.
The serpent paused halfway through its rise. It turned its head slowly, and for the first time, its eyes opened.
Twin orbs of molten gold, rimmed with cracks of obsidian. They did not burn — they ached. They carried centuries of isolation, worship, betrayal, and a curse that refused to die.
Esther stood rooted beside me, the reflection of those eyes trembling in her sword's flame. The light from her blade flickered, dimming in reverence — or fear.
Above, the sky began to twist with the same spiral motion that had dragged us here. The clouds formed concentric circles, each one reflecting the serpent's own motion, like the world obeyed its rhythm. Bolts of pale lightning arced through the mist — silent, almost beautiful — illuminating the serpent's colossal length as it reached its full height.
Its voice came not from its mouth but from the air itself — the vibration of the river, the tremor in the sky, the weight in our chests.
"Children of the Fleeing Light…"
The words dripped from the heavens like rain.
"You hear me as one damned hears the wind — hollow, endless. For I am what remains of mercy once scorned."
The serpent lowered its head slightly, eyes narrowing toward us.
"Once, I drank the rivers of purity. Now, I drown in my own sins."
Its tongue — spectral, forked, shimmering like mist — slithered through the air, brushing the ground. Where it touched, the white river turned momentarily dark, then returned to its glow.
I felt it — the tremor beneath the soles of my feet, the pulse of something ancient awakening in the marrow of the realm.
"You who bear the mark of the Writer's chosen…""You who carry the words I could not utter…""End me… and my curse shall loosen the first chain."
It raised its head once more — towering so high that its silhouette fractured the false sky. The river's light rose with it, forming ethereal streams that wrapped around its body like ribbons of fate. For a moment, it almost looked divine again — the very image of the guardian it once was.
Then the illusion broke.
From its back, fissures opened — bleeding streams of black vapor that hissed as they met the light. The rivers reacted violently, clashing in white foam and roaring current. Thunder, light, and mist collided in chaotic beauty.
And there, beneath the rain of light, Esther unsheathed her sword fully — flame erupting along its edge, her eyes reflecting both fear and resolve.
I reached for the second scroll, its golden symbols glowing once more, pulsing in time with the serpent's heartbeat.
The white river world trembled. The serpent's wings of mist spread wide, stretching across the horizon.
And as it exhaled a storm of light and fog, the first trial began.
The white river shuddered.
A faint vibration first, then a pulse — deep enough to make my ribs ache. The surface began to swell, splitting apart as something beneath it stirred.
And then it came.
The Serpent of the Mist breached the river's veil — slow, colossal, almost divine in motion. Its body rose from the mist like a mountain given life. Each scale was cracked, glowing faintly from within like molten marble. Mist poured from its fractures, forming clouds that rolled and collapsed around us.
We stood there, powerless, watching the sky vanish behind its ascent.
When its head finally emerged, the air twisted. The sheer displacement of space made the ground buckle.
"Children of the fleeing light…"
Its voice wasn't sound — it was a vibration that crawled through the blood and rattled the soul.
"For evil has consumed me… let my remaining blood speak that you must end me… end me and you shall pass the Twelve Trials of the Great Writer…"
Its eyes dimmed like dying stars.
And then the world shifted.
The serpent exhaled — and the river rose. It wasn't water anymore but an avalanche of mist, folding upward like an inverted ocean.
[Skill: Radiant Ward – Activate]
Esther's magic burst into life, golden light spilling into the white. A radiant dome snapped into form just in time as the torrent crashed against it, flooding the world in noise and glare.
The barrier held — for three seconds.
Then it shattered like glass.
We were thrown backward, tumbling through layers of white fog until my shoulder slammed into something solid. My lungs emptied.
"Status—Esther!"
"I'm here!" she shouted, flames bursting from her sword to clear her space. "But the mist—it's alive!"
And she was right. The fog slithered like sentient smoke, wrapping around our legs, pulling us downward.
"Veilpiercer, expand: Scatter Configuration."
The dagger split apart into razor fragments, spinning around me like shards of obsidian light.
"Cut through it!"
They whirled outward, slicing through the tendrils of mist. For every one I severed, three more formed.
Then a shadow loomed — one of the serpent's lower fins, hundreds of meters wide, sweeping through the fog like a guillotine.
"MOVE!"
We dove in opposite directions as the fin crashed into the ground, erasing everything in its path. The impact sent a wall of mist shooting upward, bending light itself.
Esther rolled to her feet, breathing hard. "We can't touch it! The scales alone are fortresses!"
"Then make it bleed!" I yelled.
[Skill: Radiant Bind – Activate]
Chains of molten light erupted from the ground, wrapping around a small part of the serpent's exposed flank. The chains glowed brighter, tightening until cracks formed in the scales.
The serpent twitched — just slightly — but even that motion created a shockwave that sent debris flying.
I lunged forward, every muscle screaming."Veilpiercer—shape: Penetration Spike!"
The weapon elongated, becoming a long, drill-like spear of dark light. I drove it straight into one of the glowing cracks. The moment it hit, the weapon's hilt vibrated violently as it bored into the scale.
A shriek cut through the dimension — not sound, but the pressure of existence breaking.
The serpent moved again. Its tail swung.
There was no dodging it. The movement alone erased the mist in its path, revealing glimpses of stars beyond.
"WARD—NOW!"
[Skill: Radiant Ward – Activate]
The golden dome appeared again just as the tail's shockwave hit. It didn't save us from the force — just kept us from being obliterated. We were flung hundreds of meters across the mist field, rolling until we crashed into what looked like a broken temple submerged halfway in the river.
Esther coughed, coughing blood. "That's… not a fight. That's suicide."
I spat out mist, forcing myself up. "Maybe. But it's the only way out."
Above, the serpent raised its body again. Mist storms formed around its movement. Each breath reshaped the terrain.
Then I saw them — glowing veins pulsing beneath its cracked scales, leaking luminous blood into the white river.
"There! Those veins — that's the weak spot!"
Esther nodded, her expression hardening.
She spread her arms, fire rippling along her skin.
[Skill: Radiant Nova – Activate]
A sigil erupted beneath her feet, its geometric pattern blazing bright enough to make the mist recoil. From it, chains of fire shot upward, anchoring themselves to the serpent's lower body. The heat seared through the fog, turning portions of it into shimmering vapor.
The serpent roared, its body twisting, trying to tear free. But Esther pushed harder, her aura blazing like a miniature sun.
"Regina—now!"
"Veilpiercer—shift: Reverb Fang."
The weapon's shape twisted into a chain-blade pulsing with black fire. I hurled it into one of the open veins, anchoring it deep. Then I pulled.
The weapon reacted, channeling energy into the wound. The scales surrounding it began to peel away, molten light spilling out like liquid fire.
The serpent convulsed.
The mist around us ignited — a white inferno fueled by both its blood and Esther's magic.
I barely raised an arm as she swung her sword downward.
[Skill: Radiant Wave – Activate]
A tsunami of flame shot through the battlefield, wrapping around the serpent's midsection. The collision turned the river to vapor. For a heartbeat, the world became fire and white mist clashing in every direction.
But it wasn't enough.
The serpent's body convulsed again. Its wounds glowed brighter — not with blood, but with the energy of something awakening.
"You cannot kill me, children of the fleeing light…"
Its words reverberated through every atom of the air.
"You can only unmake me…"
And then its scales exploded outward.
Millions of fragments scattered like glass shards, each one glowing with trapped figures writhing within — souls imprisoned inside the serpent's shell.
They screamed, hundreds of voices overlapping into one wailing chorus that filled the sky.
Esther dropped to her knees, clutching her head. "I—can't—focus—"
I reached for her, pulling her up. "Don't listen!"
She gritted her teeth, forcing her blade upright.
[Skill: Radiant Counter – Activate]
She parried a storm of glowing fragments that darted toward us, each impact leaving trails of molten chains that lashed outward. The counterblast struck the serpent's lower jaw, causing it to rear up and slam back down — the shockwave alone sending us flying again.
We landed on what might've been floating debris — or clouds solidified by the serpent's power.
"Esther—look up!"
From the clouds, a giant spectral eye opened — bigger than mountains, framed in threads of black mist. It turned slowly, focusing on us.
The pressure doubled.
Every nerve in my body screamed to run, but I forced my hand up.
"Veilpiercer—Final Override: Mirror Pulse!"
The weapon shattered, its fragments orbiting me in a perfect ring.
"Reflect it all."
The serpent fired — a beam of condensed white light, pure enough to erase matter. The moment it hit my perimeter, the shards flashed and reversed the energy.
A surge of inverted light erupted upward, piercing the spectral eye like a spear of night.
The world screamed.
Light broke apart.
The serpent convulsed one last time, collapsing into the river, its entire body beginning to dissolve.
We stood amid the falling mist. The white river calmed, ripples soft and endless again.
The serpent lay half-submerged, its body fading to fragments of pale light. Its colossal eye dimmed as it lowered its head closer to the river's surface.
"Mercy… children of the fleeing light…"
Its voice was faint now — the sound of dying rain.
"You have freed me from my sin… let this be your passage… through the twelve trials of the Great Writer…"
The last remnants of its scales disintegrated into the mist, leaving behind only silence — and a single glowing crystal drifting between us.
[Trial One Complete – The Serpent Redeemed]
[Item Obtained: Serpent's Core of Reminiscence]
I fell backward, gasping. Esther stumbled beside me, both of us coated in ash-like mist.
She laughed weakly, voice shaking. "We actually… killed it."
I looked at the glowing river, now slowly turning clear. "No," I said, gripping the crystal. "We just freed it."
The mist began to fold again — twisting, curling, pulling us into another spiral.
Another trial awaited.