The effect of the Sin of Pride on Hitory was immediate and overwhelming. He wanted to pull away, to escape that gaze, that presence. But something else held him back. The image of Aureolus incited loneliness and superiority, making Hitory feel even smaller and more insignificant. He wanted to scream, to resist, but the sheer force of Aureolus’s and the knight’s presence paralyzed him.

  The only way to escape the effect of this sin was to possess an even greater determination—a willpower so unshakable that it could overpower the pride he now faced. But at that moment, Hitory didn’t have it. He was lost, consumed by fear and pressure. He knew what he had to do, but the path seemed impossible to follow. How could he resist a power so absolute?

  Aureolus kept approaching in silence, his smile never leaving his lips. Hitory could feel the distance between him and the monster shrinking with every passing second. Time dragged, the pressure increasing with each breath. He was being consumed by the grandeur of the sin, by the overwhelming presence of the figure behind the knight.

  Hitory was about to fully succumb to the pressure, his mind slowly being torn apart by the immensity of the knight’s and Aureolus’s aura. He felt too small, too weak to handle it. Fear, doubt, and despair took hold of him. Every movement he tried to make felt like he was being swallowed by a deep void, as if nothing had purpose anymore.

  It was in that moment, when despair nearly overtook him completely, that a voice, faint and low, echoed in his mind.

  “Thank you... thank you for everything, Hitory…”

  The voice wasn’t clear or audible to the world around him, but inside his head, it rang like a gentle melody filled with emotion. It was Tekime.

  Tekime’s voice didn’t carry strength or vigor—just a silent fragility. Yet, at the same time, there was something profound in it. It was gratitude, an innocent and genuine gesture. Though distant, Tekime was still with Hitory in spirit, even amid all that madness and terror.

  Hitory, eyes glazed, still crushed by the overwhelming pressure around him, tried to focus on that voice. What did it mean? How had it emerged amidst all this? Was it a memory of what he had done for her? A message of support in the darkest hour? Maybe it was the last thing he had left to cling to in that moment of absolute agony.

  Tekime’s voice rang again—softer, but stronger in his mind:

  “Hitory, don’t give up. I believe in you.”

  Those words were no longer just a distant echo. Hitory felt something ignite within him, a faint flame, but with a strength he didn’t know he still had. Tekime’s voice was like a thread of light in the darkness, a flame that began to rekindle the determination he once had before everything collapsed. She gave him a reason to fight, a reason to rise.

  The knight and Aureolus continued their imposing approach, but now, Hitory felt a small shift within himself. His mind, once completely overtaken by pressure, now sparked with a glimmer of resistance.

  He was no longer alone. Tekime, even from afar, was there—fueling his inner strength, his will. He couldn’t fail now.

  As Hitory heard Tekime’s voice, the intense pressure that crushed him seemed to start warping. But at the same time, something else began to rise within his mind—a heavy, unrelenting burden. His vision blurred, and a sequence of images started invading his thoughts. Promises he had made—all the promises he had failed to keep—began manifesting, one by one, like ghosts from the past.

  The first memory was of his mother, Zelia. He saw himself as a child, looking up with hopeful eyes. “I’m going to get into the Magic School, mom,” he remembered saying with conviction. Zelia, smiling proudly, looked at him with expectation and love, believing he could achieve something great. But it never happened. He never managed to enter the Magic School, and the promise remained unfulfilled—a weight he carried like a piano on his shoulders.

  Then, Nyliryka’s image appeared, her face softly lit by moonlight, her eyes sincere and full of trust. “I’ll protect you with my life, Nyliryka.” The promise was made with unbreakable faith, a faith that once felt so strong—but it was broken. Nyliryka wasn’t there, and he couldn’t protect her when she needed it most. She was gone, and with her, another broken promise—a shackle around his soul.

  And then, the most recent promise—to Tekime. He saw himself before her eyes, with Tekime at his side, her expression serious and full of silent trust. “I’ll protect you, Tekime.” He promised with a heart full of determination. But he failed. He couldn’t fulfill that promise—couldn’t ensure her safety. She was lost somewhere, and he hadn’t known how to protect her as he’d sworn to. Another promise unkept, another weight in his mind, one he didn’t know how to remove.

  These memories and unfulfilled promises began to pile up, echoing over one another, forming a mountain of guilt and regret. Hitory closed his eyes, feeling their weight build up, nearly drowning him. He felt a deep pain in his chest, as if every failure was a sharp blade slicing through his soul.

  But amid all that pain, something started to stir. Tekime’s voice still echoed in his mind, and even with the weight of his broken promises, he felt a spark of something else inside. Maybe it wasn’t just the desire to fulfill promises—but the need to move forward, to not give up. He couldn’t let the failures of the past define him. He had to go on, had to win the battle ahead.

  With those thoughts echoing through his mind, an explosion of determination began to rise within Hitory. It wasn’t just about fulfilling promises, but something deeper—a primal drive to survive, to not be consumed by the weight of failure. But as Hitory’s aura grew, blending with his ego and will to win, the pressure in his chest also increased. He felt his strength warping, fed by something darker.

  In an instant, as he tried to stand, the knight struck with impossible speed. The blow was so fast, Hitory barely registered the movement before he felt the blade slice through his throat—a precise, fatal strike.

  With a crack of metal cutting flesh, his head was severed. Hitory’s body collapsed to the ground, his eyes still open as his head rolled and came to a stop beside him, staring at his own lifeless form. It was a grotesque sight—a moment of self-loathing, as if his very body was challenging his soul with the image of his impending defeat.

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  Yet, even as he fell to his knees with his head severed before him, something curious happened. Hitory’s aura didn’t vanish. On the contrary—it began to expand, becoming intense and frantic. His strength didn’t fade with death—it was fueled by pain and refusal. Something in his heart wasn’t ready to surrender. And as blood continued to pour from his cut neck, a new glow of resistance began to form—as if his soul refused to die.

  Meanwhile, Anon and Tekime pressed forward through the labyrinth, both heavy-hearted with uncertainty. The environment around them was growing increasingly strange and oppressive. The air was thick with the sense of impending death, and the silence was almost palpable, only broken by the sound of their rushed footsteps. They both knew there was no choice but to keep moving forward—time was running out, and Hitory needed them.

  When they finally reached the entrance of a room, what awaited them was something disturbing. The floor, walls, and even the ceiling were stained with a strange red, color that seemed to radiate a sinister, almost living energy, as if the very environment were bleeding. The air smelled heavy—a mix of open wounds and something decomposed, like the room had been abandoned by time and life itself.

  Tekime, her expression skeptical, looked at Anon and said in a grave, worried voice:

  “This... isn’t right. We might be walking straight into our own doom.”

  Anon, however, with his usual determined expression, replied:

  “We have no choice. Hitory is in there, and we’re going to find him.”

  He looked toward the room ahead, his instincts for survival and protection sharpening.

  “Whatever it is, we have to face it. There’s no turning back now.”

  Despite the fear tightening in their chests, both decided to step into the room. Each footstep felt heavy and dragged, as if something was trying to hold them back. When they crossed the threshold, the pressure in the air intensified, and the sensation of being watched became nearly unbearable.

  Inside, the room seemed to swallow all light. The deep crimson of the walls pulsed as if breathing, and an eerie unease grew with every step. There was nothing but silence and that macabre color, as if space itself had entered a state of distortion.

  Tekime furrowed her brows, trying to calm the storm in her mind.

  “Something’s not right here... This is a warning. We should leave now!”

  She turned to Anon, but he was fixed on something ahead, eyes locked as if something inside the room were calling him.

  They stepped deeper in, their footsteps echoing across the heavy floor as a thick silence wrapped around them. The air was oppressive, like the space itself was swallowing sound and movement. Breathing became a chore, the atmosphere dense and slicing with every inhale.

  None of us can run from this… Tekime thought, her eyes adjusting to the dimness, trying to make sense of their surroundings. She didn’t know what to expect, but the feeling of being hunted—of being prey—sank deep into her bones.

  The silence grew heavier until, suddenly, a scream tore through the air.

  It was harrowing—a sound of deep, animalistic pain—followed by the revolting noise of flesh being ripped apart. The pitch of the scream carried the essence of something being shredded, a sound so raw and visceral that it seemed to rupture reality itself.

  Tekime froze, her eyes wide in shock. Anon also halted, a chill crawling up his spine, as if death and agony had taken form around them. They stood frozen, unsure where the scream had come from, but certain that something grotesque was about to reveal itself.

  The scream stopped as abruptly as it had begun, leaving behind only the echo of its memory. The air grew heavier still, harder to breathe. There was a palpable pressure now, as if the room itself was alive—and didn’t want them there.

  Tekime felt a cold shiver race down her spine and whispered, her voice trembling:

  “What was that...?”

  Anon didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were locked forward, instinct trying to sense something not yet visible. His muscles were tight, ready to react to any movement, but the silence held for several more seconds.

  As the quiet wrapped around them, the tension in the room swelled. Tekime and Anon kept their eyes fixed on the darkness at the far end of the room, the air pulsing with something strange and oppressive. They couldn’t move—something, an unseen presence, was locking them in place.

  Then, in the heart of the shadows, a figure began to move—slowly and ominously—approaching them. The figure was towering, yet twisted, far removed from any human form. It looked like a reflection of something that should not exist. Its steps made no sound, but its movements echoed in their minds, as if space itself was bending to its presence.

  The creature had sickly white skin, resembling a human form warped by corruption. Its limbs were elongated and unnaturally thin, yet still horrifyingly human. Its eyes were empty, pupil-less voids, like windows into nothingness—gazing straight into souls.

  In the creature’s hand, it held something unrecognizable at first glance. It was a pulsating mass, something that appeared alive yet wasn’t. The texture was bizarre—a blend of flesh and metal, twisting slowly and emitting a low, rhythmic thumping.

  It gripped the object tightly, each beat growing stronger, as if it were pulsing with the heart of something that should never have existed.

  Anon felt his throat tighten. The creature before him made no sense. It held nothing natural, no logic or pattern to its form, as if everything around them had been distorted by its very nature.

  “What is that?” Tekime muttered, eyes locked on the slowly approaching being. Her breath hitched, fear clamping down on her chest, yet she couldn’t look away.

  Something about that being—about that pulsating object—was paralyzing her body.

  As the creature neared, Tekime and Anon forced their eyes to scan the room, hoping to understand what else surrounded them. That’s when they looked down—and froze completely.

  Beneath the grotesque figure, a young girl’s body lay sprawled on the ground. Her clothes were torn and stained with blood. Her face was pale and disfigured, frozen in an expression of agony from the moment death had seized her.

  Her hair was messy, strewn around her face, and her open mouth seemed to scream a message that would never be heard.

  The sight of the girl made both of them swallow hard, a chill of horror running through their spines.

  The creature didn’t seem to care about the body. If it did, it showed no signs. Its focus remained solely on the pulsating object it held, as if nothing else existed. Still, the presence of that lifeless form weighed on the room, tying everything together in a macabre dance of despair and agony.

  “We have to get out of here,” Anon whispered, his voice barely audible. He moved slowly, guiding Tekime to hide behind one of the pillars—seemingly the only spot that might keep them out of the creature’s sight.

  Tekime, eyes fixed on the scene ahead, struggled to breathe. She knew she couldn’t make a sound—that the risk of drawing attention was enormous—but she couldn’t take her eyes off the girl’s body.

  Something about it seemed… alive. As if trapped in a cycle of eternal suffering.

  They crouched behind the pillar, staying silent, hearts pounding in their chests.

  The creature drew nearer, step by step, its movements echoing in a warped way, as if time itself bent around it.

  The pulsing in the object grew stronger, and the room seemed to wrinkle even further, becoming a place outside of place—a space where nothing made sense.

  Tekime could only hear her breath, muffled and rapid, while Anon watched the creature intently.

  Fear gripped their chests, but their survival instinct kept them still.

  They had to wait—be patient—and see what would come next.

  The atmosphere grew ever more suffocating, the air heavy and thick.

  Tekime and Anon, hearts racing, watched in complete silence—eyes fixed on the creature, unable to look away from what was about to unfold.

  End of EP 22: "A Hero's Fall"