Rose, Ed and Alice found themselves standing in a dimly lit, square room with smooth, slate-gray walls that shimmered faintly in the low light. The room was eerily silent, with no visible doors or windows to suggest how they had arrived. The air felt dense, charged with a strange energy that seemed to hum just below the threshold of hearing. The three figures stood still, caught in the haze of disorientation, staring at each other as if seeing ghosts.

Ed broke the silence first, his voice uncertain. "Alice? Rose? Is that really you?"

Rose blinked, her gaze darting from Ed to Alice as if to confirm her own presence. "Yeah... I think so, anyway."

Alice tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing as her eyes scanned the room. "I feel like I'm me... but where are we?" Her voice was quiet, and her gaze fell on the smooth, featureless walls before slowly drifting downward.

The center of the room was dominated by a three-sided obelisk made of a dark, glassy material that seemed to drink in the faint light around it. It stood at about shoulder height, its surface etched with carvings that shimmered faintly, as if alive. Each side bore a name—Edward, Alice, and Rose—carved in a sharp, angular script that glowed faintly with a pale blue light. The obelisk pulsed softly in an almost imperceptible rhythm, as if it were breathing.

Ed stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the smooth stone floor as he approached the obelisk. His hand hesitated for a moment above the engraving of his name before he slowly reached out to touch it.

"What the hell..." Ed muttered under his breath, his voice trailing off.

Rose's voice snapped sharply from behind him, her words coming out fast. "I'm not sure you should do th—" But her warning was cut off as his fingertips made contact with the cool, glassy surface of the obelisk.

A sudden flare of light erupted from his name, spreading across the obelisk in waves of pale blue and green that reflected on the walls like ripples in water. Ed's hand remained on the surface, unmoving, as if frozen by the contact. For an agonizing thirty seconds, he stood there, silent and still, his face illuminated by the pulsing light. Then, without a word, he pulled his hand away. His face was streaked with tears that spilled silently down his cheeks, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Alice, who had instinctively taken a step back when the light had flared, was the first to speak. Her voice was sharp, almost panicked. "Ed, are you okay? What happened?" She shifted her weight nervously, glancing between him and the glowing obelisk as if expecting it to do something more.

Ed didn't respond immediately, his eyes fixed on his name, which continued to glow faintly, the pale blue light casting ghostly shadows on his face. His shoulders trembled slightly, and his breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. Whatever had just happened, it had clearly shaken him, leaving the room heavy with an unspoken tension.

Rose and Alice exchanged glances before stepping closer, their movements cautious, as though afraid to disturb the fragile stillness surrounding him. The soft glow from the obelisk bathed them all in its eerie light, its faint hum the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

Rose, her voice gentle but steady, broke the silence. "When you're ready, tell us what happened."

Ed's chest rose and fell a few more times as he visibly tried to calm himself, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Finally, his breathing slowed, and he raised his head, his voice shaky but audible. "It was a vision of a time in my life..."

*****

Ed blinked as the light from the obelisk consumed him, his breath catching as the world around him seemed to dissolve. When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in an endless expanse of swirling mist, the air heavy and unnaturally still. The ground beneath his feet was smooth and dark, like polished obsidian, and in front of him stood an ornate device—a set of ancient scales, carved with intricate runes that glowed faintly in hues of silver and gold. The balance wavered slightly, as though waiting for something to tip it.

On the opposite side of the scales stood a being unlike anything Ed had ever seen. She was radiant, her beauty almost painful to behold, with features so perfect they felt otherworldly. Her form shimmered slightly, as if she were only partially tethered to this reality, and her eyes seemed to pierce straight through him, seeing every part of who he was.

When she spoke, the woman's voice formed a chorus of power and grace, ringing through his mind and body like a tidal wave, or as if a mountain-sized bell had rung. Ed had to brace himself, every muscle in his body straining to maintain composure as the weight of her words threatened to crush him.

"Edward Brashear," she intoned, her voice both melodic and commanding. "To pass this next test, you will have to face yourself and be laid bare."

Ed tilted his head, his lips quirking into a faint smirk despite the oppressive atmosphere. "Umm... do I need to get naked for this?" he asked, his attempt at humor landing like a dead weasel on a—honestly, Ed wasn't sure what, he was just flailing.

The air around her pulsed, a wave of power rippling outward as though in response to his words. Her expression remained unchanged, her gaze locked onto him as she continued. "Prepare yourself." Her voice cut through the space like the tolling of a divine bell, utterly ignoring his remark, as if his words hadn't even registered. Perhaps they hadn't.

Ed swallowed hard, the mist thickening around him as the scales before him began to glow brighter, the runes shifting and writhing like living things. Whatever was coming, he had the distinct impression he wasn't ready for it.

Between one blink and the next, Ed found himself waking up in his bed. But this wasn't his bed—at least, not the one he'd had as an adult—it was the old, creaky twin mattress he'd had when he was a child, still living at home with his parents. The familiar scent of dusty curtains and the faint lingering of old books brought memories flooding back, but they only served to confuse him further.

What the hell is going on? He sat up and glanced around. The walls were covered with the faded posters of the superheroes and knights he'd admired as a kid. His battered wooden desk sat in the corner, stacked with old papers and toy figurines that hadn't seen the light of day in years. It was his childhood bedroom, frozen in time.

The sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs jarred him out of his thoughts, a familiar weight of dread sinking into his stomach. Something bad was coming—he could feel it in his bones. A second later, his dad burst into the room, face red with barely contained fury.

"Ed! You get up right this second and come downstairs. We need to have a talk!" His father's voice was sharp, nearly breaking, and his face twisted in an anger so fierce it bordered on desperation. He was almost frothing at the mouth.

Ed, sensing the urgency and vividly remembering exactly what this moment was about, scrambled to his feet. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled on the same clothes he had worn that day, his body moving on autopilot. The weight of the memory sat heavy on his chest, almost crushing.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, his heart sank further. His mom and dad were in the living room, standing in the same positions they had taken in that long-ago scene. His dad's face was still red with anger, pacing back and forth, while his mom sat on the couch, her eyes puffy and red from crying. But the sight that unsettled him the most was the policeman standing in the center of the room, his uniform sharp and intimidating, his presence commanding the space.

Ed froze. Dread coiled tightly around him like a snake. He knew what was coming—he had lived it before, every agonizing second of it. But there was no way out, no alternative, except to walk into the moment he remembered so vividly.

The officer turned to him, his expression stern but calm. "Son, do you want to tell us what happened last night in your own words?"

Ed swallowed hard. The waves of guilt from his younger self rose sharply, almost making him feel sick. He stood there, trying to push down the instinctual urge to deny everything like he had back then. He'd carried this guilt for over a decade and a half, and yet now, faced with the moment again, his mind raced for a different response.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out at first. He knew what he had done—what he hadn't done—and the weight of it seemed so much heavier now. This wasn't just a memory; it was a chance, wasn't it? A chance to get it right. Still, the words were stuck in his throat, and he had no idea what would come next.

The policeman's gaze stayed steady on Ed, his voice calm but firm. He repeated himself, perfectly, as if his words were playing on a cassette, "Son, do you want to tell us what happened last night in your own words?"

Ed's throat felt tight, the guilt he'd carried for years surging to the forefront like an open wound. He swallowed hard, his gaze darting toward his mom, her tear-streaked face a sharp reminder of the weight of this moment. Finally, he nodded and took a deep breath.

"It was supposed to be a harmless prank," Ed began, his voice shaking. "Just... something stupid the guys came up with. You know, to mess with Mr. Turner, the weird neighbor down the street. He's always yelling at us to stay off his lawn and stuff. They thought it'd be funny to leave a fake snake on his porch, maybe bang on the door and run."

The officer gave a small nod, his expression unreadable, encouraging Ed to continue.

"But... but it didn't go that way," Ed said, his voice cracking slightly. "When we got to his house, we were sneaking around his yard, trying not to laugh too loud. That's when he came out—with his dog. The dog was barking like crazy, and we all froze. Then... I don't know... someone panicked. One of the guys started yelling, and the dog went after him. He wasn't hurt badly, just a scratch, but then... then it got worse."

Ed's hands were trembling now, his knuckles white as he clenched them by his sides. "One of the other kids grabbed a bat from the yard. He swung at the dog. He hit it hard, really hard, and it yelped and fell. Mr. Turner tried to stop him, but he tripped—or maybe he got pushed, I don't even know. He hit the ground hard. I... I saw him lying there, clutching his arm, and the dog was whimpering next to him."

Ed's voice faltered, and he had to pause to steady himself. "The others ran. They just took off, like it was nothing. And I... I didn't know what to do. I wanted to stay. I wanted to help them. But I—" His voice broke, and he looked down at the floor, unable to meet the officer's gaze. "I ran too. After a few seconds, I ran."

The weight of the confession hung heavy in the room, the silence pressing down on him as he finally forced himself to look back up. His father was standing stiffly, fists clenched, while his mom stifled a sob behind her hand. Ed looked to the officer, his voice barely a whisper. "I should have stayed. I should have done something. But I didn't."

Ed's voice cracked as he forced the words out. "Is he okay?"

The policeman sighed heavily, the weight of the situation etched into his face. "No. He's in the hospital with a fractured arm and some bruised ribs. As for the dog... it's at an emergency vet, but they're not sure it's going to make it."

The words hit Ed like a physical blow, and the room blurred as tears welled in his eyes. His chest heaved, and the guilt he'd carried for so long broke free, spilling out in quiet, shuddering sobs. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have helped. I should have stayed. I'm so sorry."

The silence that followed felt like a punishment in itself, the weight of his admission lingering in the air. But before Ed could see what came next, the world shifted again. In the blink of an eye, the living room dissolved, and he was back in the mist-filled realm, standing before the scale and the radiant figure of the goddess—or whatever she was.

Tears streamed freely down his face now, hot and unrelenting, as he faced her unwavering gaze. The memory still burned in his chest, but with it came clarity. He had lived with regret for years, letting it fester in the dark corners of his mind. But now, standing here in this surreal place, he made a choice—a promise.

"I won't be a coward again," he said softly, his voice steadier than he expected. "I'll stand up for others. I'll be the person I should have been back then. I won't let something like that happen again—not if I can stop it."

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, the scales before him tipped ever so slightly. The faint glow of their runes brightened, as if acknowledging the vow he had just made.

The radiant figure's gaze bore into him, as if weighing not just his words but the sincerity of his soul. Ed stood still, his vow echoing in the misty void, his breathing steady despite the tears still streaming down his face. For a moment, there was only silence, heavy and unyielding.

Then, the being finally spoke, her voice resonating with an authority that reverberated through his very core. One word.

"Pass."

Before Ed could process the simple yet profound declaration, the world dissolved around him once more. The mist swirled and collapsed inward, and the light of the scale faded into nothingness.

*****

Ed finished his recounting, his voice low but steady as he relayed the surreal and painful experience. Rose and Alice exchanged a glance, their expressions a mixture of concern and resolve. The room fell silent, the hum of the obelisk the only sound as they stood there, digesting what they had just heard.

After a moment, Rose sighed, breaking the quiet. She squared her shoulders and took a step toward the pedestal. "I'll go next," she said, her voice tinged with reluctant determination. "I hate the idea of this, but we might as well get it over with."

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Her footsteps echoed softly on the smooth floor as she approached the obelisk. Ed and Alice watched her carefully, neither speaking, their breaths held in anticipation. Rose hesitated for the briefest moment, her fingers hovering just above her name. Then, with a decisive motion, she pressed her hand against the carved letters.

The obelisk flared to life, light cascading across its surface in a warm gold glow. Rose's body stiffened, her eyes glazing over as she slipped into the same trance-like state Ed had been in moments before. The light from the obelisk reflected off her features, casting long shadows around the room as Alice and Ed stood back, waiting in tense silence.

*****

Just as Ed had described, Rose found herself in the same strange realm, an endless expanse of swirling mist that seemed to stretch into eternity. The polished obsidian floor beneath her feet reflected the faint, ethereal glow of the environment. Her heart pounded as her eyes landed on the old-fashioned scales standing in front of her, their intricate carvings glowing faintly with silver and gold runes.

Opposite the scales stood a figure—a radiant, otherworldly being whose beauty was almost painful to look at. Rose felt a tug in her chest, an instinct to try and understand what she was seeing, but her mind refused to process it. The air around the being shimmered, her presence exuding a weight that pressed down on Rose like the crush of a mountain.

The being's voice rang out, melodic yet commanding, cutting through the silence with terrifying power. "Rose Arrington. To pass this next test, you will have to face yourself and be laid bare."

Rose winced as the force of the voice washed over her, her knees threatening to buckle under its sheer weight. For an insane moment, she considered making almost the identical joke to Ed, in a desperate attempt to break the tension. But instead, she braced herself and swallowed hard. "Great," she muttered under her breath, her sarcasm a thin veneer over her nervousness. "Can't wait to see what trauma I get to relive."

*****

The overwhelming weight of dread hit Rose like a physical blow, pulling the air from her lungs. The misty realm dissolved in an instant, and she found herself sitting in the backseat of a car. The familiar hum of tires on wet pavement filled her ears, and her heart sank as recognition washed over her. She was thirteen again, sitting in the backseat of her parents' car, her legs tucked under her as raindrops pelted the windshield. The faint glow of the dashboard lights reflected off her dad's focused expression and her mom's reassuring smile.

Rose's hands trembled, gripping the edge of the seat as if bracing for what she knew was coming. "No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, not this. Not again."

The storm outside raged on, the sound of rain and thunder a constant roar. The windshield wipers worked furiously to keep the glass clear, but it didn't matter. Rose's stomach churned as she watched the scene unfold, knowing every word, every motion, and every second that followed.

Her mom turned around to glance at her, offering a gentle smile that didn't quite reach her tired eyes. "We're almost home, sweetheart. Just a little longer."

Her dad kept his focus on the road, his hands tight on the steering wheel. "Storm's getting worse," he muttered, the tension in his voice unmissable.

Rose wanted to scream, to tell them to stop, to pull over and wait out the storm. She wanted to beg the System to end this, to choose something else, anything else. But she was trapped, a passenger in her own nightmare.

She could remember everything. The bad dreams that had driven her to ask to come home, the other kids' parents calling hers to pick her up. The guilt was like a lead weight in her chest, pressing down harder with every mile. They shouldn't have been out in the storm. They should have been safe at home, and now they wouldn't make it there.

Her breath hitched as the car started to skid on the slick road. "Dad!" she shouted, her voice breaking.

"I've got it!" he snapped, his hands jerking the wheel to correct the slide. But the tires lost their grip completely, and the world spun. Rose clung to the seat as the car careened off the road, the sound of crunching metal and breaking glass filling her ears.

And then there was nothing but darkness.

The darkness faded, and Rose's senses returned in fragments—cold rain on her skin, the acrid smell of gasoline and wet earth, the faint metallic tang of blood in the air. Her eyes fluttered open, her head pounding as the sound of muffled voices and distant sirens reached her ears.

Her fingers ached, and she realized she was clutching something tightly. She looked down to see her mom's hand in hers, limp and unmoving. Her mom's face was turned away, her breathing shallow but eerily steady, as though she were simply sleeping. Rose's heart raced as she turned her head to the driver's seat. Her dad slumped against the wheel, his face obscured by shadows and streaks of rainwater running down the cracked windshield.

"Mom? Dad?" Rose croaked, her voice trembling. She squeezed her mom's hand tighter, willing her to wake up, to say something. But there was no response, only the rhythmic patter of rain against the car.

The voices outside grew louder, urgent and commanding. A flashlight's beam pierced the dim interior of the car, illuminating the twisted wreckage. "We've got a survivor!" someone shouted. The next moment, strong hands were at her door, prying it open with a screech of protesting metal.

"Hold on, sweetheart, we've got you," a voice said, calm but firm, as the door was wrenched away. A rescue worker leaned in, their bright jacket reflecting the flashing red and blue lights outside. The rain hit her directly now, cold and relentless, soaking her through as the rescuer carefully reached for her.

"No! My mom and dad!" Rose protested, her voice rising in panic as she tightened her grip on her mom's hand. The worker gently but firmly pried her fingers loose.

"They'll be taken care of," the rescuer said, their voice soft but insistent. "Right now, we need to get you out."

Tears blurred Rose's vision as she was lifted from the car, her body trembling with shock and cold. She craned her neck to look back at her parents, still motionless in their seats. The guilt clawed at her chest, suffocating her as the rescue worker carried her toward safety. Her heart screamed to go back, but her legs wouldn't move. She could only watch as the scene faded into a swirl of flashing lights and rain-soaked chaos.

Rose gasped as the world around her twisted violently, the rain-soaked wreckage disappearing in a flash. She was back at the scales, the polished obsidian beneath her feet reflecting the faint glow of the runes. Her hand was still outstretched, trembling, reaching for parents who were no longer there. The empty air mocked her as tears streamed down her face, her chest heaving with the weight of the emotions she had carried for so many years.

She stood frozen, her arm slowly lowering as the reality of her surroundings settled in. Her mind reeled with memories of her parents—the laughter, the warmth, the comfort they had always given her. And the crash, the unbearable guilt that had latched onto her soul like a parasite, whispering to her every day since. It was the event that had uprooted her life, forcing her to move schools, changing everything. But it had also led her to Sinclair, Alice, and Ed—the friends who had become her family. The best friends anyone could ask for. Yet, even with all the good that had come after, she knew she'd never have willingly paid that price.

She raised her head, fury blazing in her tear-filled eyes as she locked onto the radiant being standing before her. "What!" she demanded, her voice shaking with raw emotion. "What did you want me to learn from that?" Her hands balled into fists as she wiped at her eyes, trying to clear the tears enough to see the being's expression. But there was nothing—no anger, no sympathy, no judgment. Just the same unflinching, passive gaze.

Sniffling, she pushed through her sobs, forcing herself to confront the words that had been lodged in her heart for years. "I know in my head that I didn't cause that wreck. But, in my heart..." Her voice cracked, and the next words came out in a whisper, "... I killed them that night."

Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees, trembling as the emotions wracked her body. For a long moment, she couldn't speak, only clutching her chest as if to hold herself together. The being stood motionless, waiting, as though the silence itself was part of the trial.

Rose finally raised her tear-streaked face, her voice hoarse and quiet. "I don't know what you want from me. I do not forgive myself for what happened." Her gaze dropped to the ground, and she sat there, the echoes of her therapist's voice from years past rising in her mind: What would your parents have wanted for you?

She exhaled shakily, her voice trembling as she continued. "I don't know if I will ever forgive myself, but... I can try to. That's the best I can do."

She sat there, her heart raw and exposed, hoping desperately that it would be enough. It was all she could admit to herself—maybe all she'd ever be able to.

With that final admission, the air around Rose grew still, the oppressive weight of the atmosphere lifting slightly. The being tilted its head ever so slightly, as if appraising her words, and then spoke with the same commanding resonance that had shaken Ed.

"Pass."

The single word echoed through the mist-filled void, and before Rose could fully register it, the scales flared with a soft golden light. The glow spread outward, washing over her like a wave of warmth, dissolving the tears still clinging to her cheeks. The weight on her chest eased, though the pain and memories remained.

The world shifted abruptly, and Rose blinked as the mist swirled and vanished. She was back in the small room with the obelisk, the light pulsing softly along its surface. Ed and Alice stood nearby, their anxious faces turning toward her. She took a shuddering breath, her legs still weak beneath her, but she forced herself to stand, resolute after her emotional wringing.

*****

Alice moved toward Rose, her face filled with concern, but Rose sniffed and held up her hand to stop her.

Rose's voice was shaky but firm. "It's as bad as he mentioned. I just... I need a few minutes. They used my parents on me."

The room fell into a heavy silence as Alice and Ed exchanged a glance. They both understood the weight of what Rose had just endured. She had told them about the car accident years ago, back in school, when the three of them had first become inseparable. Knowing that the System had dredged up that memory to test her left Alice's stomach churning.

Alice nodded slowly, her hand brushing against Rose's shoulder for the briefest moment. "I'm going to go ahead and pop in then," she said, her voice steady but laced with unease.

With one last glance toward Ed and Rose, Alice turned toward the obelisk, her own name glowing faintly on one of its sides. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped forward, her fingers reaching out to touch her name. The moment her hand made contact, the light flared, and she was gone, leaving Ed and Rose alone in the room.

*****

The world around Alice dissolved the moment her fingers touched the obelisk. In a blink, she was no longer in the small room but standing in the same mist-filled expanse Ed and Rose had described. The air was heavy, the polished obsidian beneath her feet reflecting the faint, shifting glow of the surrounding mist. She stood before the ancient scales, their runes glowing softly with a silvery light.

Opposite her was the entity—an ethereal, impossibly beautiful figure whose presence seemed to ripple through the air like a pulse of raw energy. Alice's instincts kicked in immediately; she tried to analyze the being as she would any opponent, but her mental probes failed, slipping away like water through her fingers. She steadied her breathing, forcing herself not to falter under the oppressive weight of the being's gaze.

The entity's voice resonated through the void, each word a force of its own, shaking Alice to her core. "Alice Wright. To pass this next test, you will have to face yourself and be laid bare."

Alice felt her stomach twist. She clenched her fists, trying to meet the being's gaze despite the overwhelming pressure in the air. "Of course," she muttered under her breath, sarcasm rising to shield her fear. "Because that's not ominous or anything."

The entity didn't react. It simply extended a hand toward the scales, its voice echoing again. "Prepare yourself."

Before Alice could retort, the mist surged forward, wrapping around her like a wave. The ground vanished beneath her feet, and she was pulled into the depths of her own memories, the familiar hum of the scales fading as the vision swallowed her whole.

Alice blinked, and the mist faded. She found herself standing barefoot on the polished wood floor of her childhood dojo. The familiar scent of pinewood, mixed with faint traces of sweat, filled the air. Around her, the room was exactly as she remembered it—rows of students practicing katas, the rhythmic sound of movements blending into a soothing cadence.

She was mid-kata herself, her hands and feet flowing through the motions with precision. Her body moved on instinct, muscle memory guiding her every strike, block, and pivot. It felt natural—comforting, even—as though she had stepped into a moment of almost unending peacefulness. She glanced at herself in the mirror-lined walls. Smaller and younger, but her stance and technique were sharp. She had always been proud of her abilities.

"Move your back foot when you kick like that, or you're going to trip yourself," her master's voice rang out, firm but patient.

"Yes, Sensei," Alice replied instinctively, adjusting her posture. She grinned slightly, the thrill of martial arts buzzing through her like it always had. She had been small and bookish back then, but she had learned to use speed and precision to her advantage. A solid punch or kick from her, properly executed, could floor someone twice her size.

But as she flowed through the motions, she couldn't shake the feeling of dissonance. Her brow furrowed slightly. Why am I here? she thought. The dojo held nothing but good memories. There was no trauma or buried pain here. If the System wanted to test her, what was the point of bringing her here?

She glanced toward the doorway, her sensei watching her closely as he always had, but there was something in the air now—something off. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the familiar comfort of the dojo was tinged with an unspoken tension, like a storm gathering on the horizon. Whatever was coming, it wasn't going to stay peaceful for long.

The master clapped his hands sharply, the sound cutting through the dojo like a whip. "Everyone, form a square around the mat!" he barked. The students immediately stopped their katas, moving quickly to form a neat square around the central mat. Alice blinked in confusion, her heart starting to pound as she took her place on the edge.

"Alice," the master called, his voice even but carrying an unmistakable weight. "Step forward."

She hesitated for only a moment before stepping onto the mat, her bare feet sticking slightly to the polished wood. "What is going on?" she muttered to herself, her mind racing. This never happened in real life. The familiar environment now felt foreign, tinged with an unsettling edge.

The master turned to the assembled students, his piercing gaze sweeping over them. "Are there any challengers?" he asked.

Alice's stomach tightened as one by one, several students stepped forward, their expressions grim. The master began calling names, each fighter stepping into the ring with her. "Fight!" he commanded.

She barely had time to register what was happening before the first opponent lunged at her. Alice reacted on instinct, blocking the strike and countering with a sharp kick. The fight ended quickly after three solid strikes, but before she could catch her breath, the master was already summoning the next challenger.

Wave after wave came at her, each opponent more skilled or aggressive than the last. Some were her equals; others were belts above her. The fights were relentless, the master never giving her enough time to fully recover before the next opponent stepped forward. The rules were the same each time: three solid strikes ended the match, whether she won or lost. But there was no reprieve—she was not allowed to leave the mat.

Alice's muscles burned, her body drenched in sweat, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Her legs felt like lead, her stances sloppy from exhaustion, but she never stopped. Even as her limbs shook and her vision blurred, she fought on. Each time she fell, she forced herself to stand, her body screaming in protest.

She thought she might vomit from the exertion, her heart hammering in her chest, but she refused to back down. Gritting her teeth, she faced the next opponent, her mind sharp even as her body began to falter. If this is the test, I'm not breaking, she told herself. Not now. Not ever.

Alice struggled, her arms trembling as she pushed against the mat, her vision swimming with exhaustion and pain. Her body refused to obey, but sheer determination forced her to rise—just barely. Then the master's fist connected squarely with her face, a flash of light and pain sending her spiraling backward into the void.

When her vision cleared, she was back in the mist-filled realm, standing in front of the god-like being. The oppressive presence was as overwhelming as before, but now she felt different—sweaty, angry, and aching in ways that felt far too real. Her muscles burned, her breaths were ragged, and her lips tasted like blood. She spat a glob of crimson onto the black floor and glared at the being.

"What the actual fuck was that?" she snapped, her voice raw with fury.

The being stared at her, its expression unchanged—impassive and uncaring, as though her outrage was nothing more than a passing breeze. Its silence only stoked her rage.

Alice clenched her fists, her body trembling not just from pain but from the searing fury that coursed through her. Her memory of the dojo, a place she had loved, had been twisted into something cruel, something she could barely process through the haze of anger. The humiliation, the exhaustion, and the sheer absurdity of the test all churned in her chest, threatening to explode.

She breathed in sharply, then out, trying to calm herself, but the effort was futile. All she could think about was charging forward and unleashing everything she had on this unfeeling, god-like figure. Her fury built, each breath fanning the flames higher and higher.

Finally, she snapped. With a guttural growl, Alice lunged forward, her mind blank with fury, ready to throw herself into an unwinnable fight. But just as she reached the edge of the scales, the being's voice rang out, cold and absolute.

"Pass."

The word reverberated through the air, and before she could even process it, the world shifted again. The mist dissolved in an instant, and Alice was teleported back mid-leap, landing awkwardly on the polished floor of the small room with the obelisk. She stumbled forward, her anger abruptly cut off by the sudden shift, leaving her dazed and confused.

Ed and Rose turned toward her, wide-eyed, as she caught herself and straightened, still breathing hard. Her rage was still simmering, but the fight was over—whether she wanted it to be or not.

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