The deeper they went, the less sense anything made.
The Veins Beyond pulsed with illusions—but they weren't illusions, not truly. They were echoes of what had been, stitched to fragments of what could be. Memory bled into the terrain, forming strange amalgams of past lives and imagined fates.
Toji walked near the front of Class C's column, Phantom Edge unsummoned, the Mnemo-Eye hovering in silent orbit just behind his shoulder. He'd learned to let it absorb this place rather than resist it. It saw more than he ever could.
"Stay close," Lysara said behind them. "Step off the path and the space may loop or reset. Do not chase memories. Not unless you're prepared to become one."
Her voice held no melodrama.
She had been here before.
Toji's boots clicked against what looked like stone but felt like glass. Beneath it, scenes rippled: a boy screaming over a shattered Echo. A woman burying her voice in saltwater. A child laughing—and then falling. Over and over again.
Roth grunted. "This place is cursed."
"No," Niko muttered. "It's aware."
Toji looked back. Six of them had entered this section: Roth and Niko from the Veins of Valor trials, and four others—all Echo-bound but unfamiliar. They carried themselves like they knew pain, like they'd been tested before Valemont.
Kaela walked just behind Toji, unusually quiet. Her hair shimmered faintly in the shifting light, catching gold and deep violet from the warped sun overhead. The farther they went, the more withdrawn she became—not distant, but inward.
He noticed.
Lysara eventually halted at a ridge where the path split into spiraling bridges made of woven light and bone.
"This is as far as I guide you," she said. "The rest belongs to the zone. You must find the Core on your own. It will test you. Shape itself around your fault lines. Do not stray too far from one another."
She turned her eyes to Toji.
"The zone is always watching those who do not flinch. That's a warning, not praise."
Toji nodded. "Understood."
Then they stepped forward.
And the world split.
—
At first, Toji thought the floor gave way. Then he realized it was time itself—fracturing into threads.
He stood suddenly in a shallow field made of mirrors. In the reflections: a hundred versions of him. Some older. Some younger. Some that weren't him at all. Each one bore the Mnemo-Eye in different states—dormant, twisted, sublime.
"What is this?" Roth's voice echoed nearby.
Then: silence.
Toji was alone.
Only Kaela remained near him, standing across the mirrored field, her image fractured and flickering.
"You still here?" he called.
She nodded. "Barely."
He moved toward her carefully, each step triggering different scenes underfoot. In one, his mother smiled. In another, he was consumed by shadows.
The Mnemo-Eye narrowed, spinning slowly.
"It's bleeding through," Toji murmured. "Too much data. Too much memory."
Kaela took a shaky breath. "I see them too. But they're not mine. Not all of them."
Toji stopped beside her.
She was trembling.
And now he saw it—the light bending wrong around her. Like something inside her was leaking, some internal tether stretched thin.
She whispered, "I think this place knows my fear."
—
The shift happened fast.
The mirrored field shattered—and they fell.
—
When Toji hit the bottom, he rolled, summoned Phantom Edge mid-motion, and raised his guard.
Nothing attacked.
They were in a vast, shimmering cavern—half-forest, half-temple, overgrown with luminous ivy and foxfire blue grass. At the center stood an ancient gate carved into the side of a mountainlike wall. Around it spiraled faint fox-shaped sigils, glowing with soft, rhythmic pulses.
Kaela stood at the threshold, eyes wide, arms slack.
He moved toward her—but she held up a hand.
"Toji," she said softly. "This part's not for you."
He halted.
"What do you mean?"
"I feel it. The pull. That gate—it's made from my fear. My doubt. It knows me."
She turned to him.
"I need to go in alone."
Toji stared at her, then at the gate.
The Mnemo-Eye spun faster, then paused.
"Let her," it said. "This convergence is for her. Not for you."
Toji's jaw clenched. He hated this. But he nodded.
"I'll be waiting. Don't take too long."
Kaela smiled faintly. "You'll know if I fail."
Then she stepped inside.
—
Inside the gate, Kaela found herself standing on a bridge of pure starlight, suspended over nothingness. Above her, stars twisted like threads. Below, there was only memory.
She walked forward slowly.
Her heart pounded.
She had always feared being forgotten.
Not rejected. Not ignored.
Forgotten.
Unremarkable.
Growing up in the shadow of an older sister—talented, brilliant, beloved—Kaela had learned to smile smaller. To speak less. To not take up too much space.
Even at Valemont, she played support. She was sharp, kind, reliable—but never the centerpiece.
The Core had seen that.
And now it whispered.
A soft, rippling voice.
"Do you still believe you must be quiet to be loved?"
Kaela turned—and saw herself.
Younger. Eyes full of hesitation.
She didn't speak.
The voice came again.
"Will you live your life echoing others… or will you echo yourself?"
Then the bridge unraveled.
She fell again—only this time, not through space, but through herself.
Images surged past her: every time she held back, every time she let others take credit, every time she lied about not minding. Until—
She landed in a field of glowing sakura trees.
In the center sat a massive, sleeping figure.
Nine tails curled around it.
A white kitsune.
It opened one eye.
And Kaela felt it—not in her head, not in her body, but in her tether.
The creature was not a normal Echo.
It was something older.
A soul-reflection.
A choice.
"Why me?" she whispered.
The kitsune stood slowly.
Its voice—though not verbal—was unmistakably female. Ageless. Kind. Amused.
"Because you remembered yourself. Before anyone else did."
Kaela's breath hitched.
"I don't want to disappear anymore."
The kitsune nodded.
"Then let us blaze."
It walked forward—and entered her.
Not violently. Not forcefully.
Like light sinking into water.
Kaela screamed—but it wasn't pain.
It was release.
Her body glowed.
Nine white, ethereal tails exploded behind her, shifting through pale violet and silver hues.
Her eyes changed—gleaming with twin irises.
The bond wasn't like summoning.
It was fusion.
Kaela was still Kaela.
But more.
A whisper came from inside.
"You found me in the silence you used to fear."
She smiled.
And opened her eyes.
—
Toji watched the gate ripple once.
Then Kaela stepped through.
Changed.
Her presence was unmistakable—radiant, commanding, calm.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
She nodded once.
"I'm ready now."
—
The air shifted the moment Kaela stepped out of the gate.
The surreal zone—which had once pulsed with volatile ambiguity, threading memory and illusion in chaotic spirals—fell eerily still.
Even the terrain adjusted.
The mirrored pathways stilled.
The twisting echoes withdrew.
Something in this place recognized her.
And chose to yield.
Toji took a step forward. Her new form didn't shimmer like a typical Echo manifestation—it breathed, almost alive. The nine tails behind her flickered through spectral states: half-light, soft flame, flowing ink. Her eyes held mirrored irises now, twin moons set in firm resolve.
"You alright?" he asked.
Kaela nodded slowly, but there was a subtle pause—a sense that her thoughts were still aligning.
"I am… more myself than I've ever been," she said. "She isn't just bonded to me. She was me. The part I buried."
Toji blinked. "She?"
Kaela looked up, and for a brief instant, a vulpine silhouette shimmered behind her shoulders.
"A name came to me when she merged," she murmured. "A thought woven into the core: Yuzuki."
Toji nodded. "Yuzuki… That's beautiful."
Kaela smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth trembling. "She chose me because I kept choosing others over myself… until I didn't."
From behind them, the rest of the group finally emerged. Roth came first, blade half-drawn, sweat matting his temple.
"Anyone else see their dead grandma screaming about soap?" he muttered.
Niko followed, visibly shaken but alert.
Then the four Echo-bound strangers trickled through. One of them, a tall boy with eyes like fractured onyx, stared at Kaela with wordless awe.
"You tethered a Prime," he murmured. "No. Something older."
Kaela shook her head. "Not tethered. Accepted."
Lysara stepped from the edge of the path as if time had unfrozen her. She studied Kaela for a long moment, her gaze less instructor and more witness.
"The Core let you leave without challenge," she said quietly.
Kaela turned to her. "It did. But not without cost."
Toji frowned. "Cost?"
Kaela nodded. "I'll never forget what I buried. It lives with me now. I feel everything I once ran from… every doubt. But I understand it. I am not afraid of it."
Lysara didn't speak for several seconds. Then she turned toward the others.
"This," she said, "is the first true step of the Veins Beyond. The surreal zone does not reward strength. It rewards truth. To face the Core is not to conquer it—but to be seen by it."
She looked back to Kaela.
"Now that one of you has been chosen… the zone will react."
And it did.
The terrain shimmered.
No longer a twisted maze, the path reformed—stabilizing into a crystalline corridor, flanked by arching roots that throbbed with bioluminescent veins.
It was an invitation.
Or perhaps… an acknowledgement.
Toji stepped beside Kaela as they began walking forward again.
For the first time since entering the zone, the way ahead didn't feel oppressive—it felt open, like possibility itself was making space.
After a time, Kaela glanced at him.
"You've been quiet."
Toji shrugged. "Didn't want to interrupt the fox goddess moment."
Kaela smirked, a flicker of the old sarcasm returning. "Don't worry. I'm still me."
"Just with more tails."
She tilted her head. "You jealous?"
He considered, then nodded. "A little."
A beat passed.
Then she said, more softly, "You helped me stay grounded, Toji. When the illusions broke apart… I wasn't sure what was real. But you were."
He looked at her, caught off guard.
"I thought this wasn't about me."
"It's not," she said. "But that doesn't mean you didn't matter."
The path curved again.
And that's when they felt it.
A surge.
A ripple through the zone like a tectonic echo.
Everyone froze.
Niko cursed under his breath. "The core was supposed to be the end. What is that?"
Roth pointed toward the horizon.
There, atop a cliff of shifting blackglass, stood a figure.
Not a memory. Not an Echo.
Something new.
Something watching.
It was draped in layers of flowing white cloth, maskless, yet featureless. A flicker of shifting eyes—dozens—trailed behind it like scarves.
Kaela's tails bristled.
Toji readied Phantom Edge.
The Mnemo-Eye narrowed. "Zone Guardian. Sentient extension of the surreal core. It senses disruption."
Lysara stepped forward, sharp.
"Do not attack it."
They all looked at her.
"It tests only those who reject their truth," she said. "Stand firm in who you are, and it will pass. Try to deceive it…"
She let that trail off.
Kaela inhaled slowly, then stepped toward the cliff.
The others followed.
When they reached the top, the figure spoke—not in sound, but in direct impulse.
A question etched into the soul:
"Who are you… now?"
The weight of it nearly dropped them to their knees.
Toji stood tall.
"I don't know everything about myself," he said. "But I'm done running from the parts I do."
Kaela's voice was steadier.
"I am Kaela Rehn. Daughter of silence. Keeper of the lost voice. And I am no longer hiding."
The figure didn't move.
But it opened a passage.
A door of memory and light.
And then it vanished.
Behind them, Lysara exhaled.
"Well done."
No one spoke for a time.
Eventually, Toji asked the question they all carried in silence:
"What's beyond the door?"
Lysara turned, her expression unreadable.
"The rest of you."
And with that—
They stepped forward.