The voices multiplied, drew closer, surged louder—as if countless girls chattered endlessly inside Mylora’s mind.

No matter how she scratched her head, covered her ears, or clutched her temples, it was useless. Steeling herself, she followed her inner pull through the endless mist, searching for the source.

"I promised Xiao Guang! Our next meeting must be on stage!"

"You only ever think of yourself!"

The noise swelled into chaos. Mylora stumbled like a lost child—fumbling, pressing forward—her body growing heavier with every step…

"You went to the festival… with a girl I don’t know?"

"I hate that Shimamura smiles where I can’t see! I hate that you hold hands with others!"

So heavy. Truly heavy—not an illusion, but physical weight. Walking felt impossible.

"What about me?"

"What must I do to bring you back? Anything—I’ll do anything I can!"

Her legs turned to lead. Her waist bent. The ground crept closer. Standing was a luxury.

"Chika lights up when you’re near. She said she’d try harder for you."

"Why are you so practiced?! How many times have you kissed someone?!"

"But I don’t want the three of us together…"

An unseen force yanked her down. She scrambled on hands and knees, nearing her limit.

"You, blessed prince… can I not be your swallow?"

"A diamond heart cannot be wounded!"

"Instead of clinging to the one you love… why not love who they love? Isn’t it beautiful how connections grow?"

"Ugh!!!"

Her body crushed flat—as if an invisible hand slammed her into the earth. *Gravity.* The mist-shrouded zone’s gravity had multiplied. Prostrate like a pilgrim, her cheek pressed against frost-stained stone.

"Mmph… sob… Where…? Who did this…?!"

Only her eyes could move. She frantically scanned her narrow view—no need to search. *It* appeared before her.

A violet-black mist, shimmering like lightning yet rippling like water. Glowing particles swirled around a strange rune at its core—the heart of the luminous haze.

*(That’s… a Rune Wraith!?)*

Torina had warned her before departure: Niflheim’s deadliest nuisance was the Rune Wraith. "Wraiths" were energy-formed monsters; Rune Wraiths coalesced when compatible runes absorbed mana until they turned beast-like and aggressive. Torina even gave her an illustrated guide.

But this one matched none.

Silent.

It needed no action.

Merely approaching intensified the crushing gravity.

Mylora heard her bones groan. One snap, and her organs would shatter—beyond saving.

House Dewell forbade deaths: shout "Withdraw" to escape. But that wasted the trial. She refused. She wouldn’t disappoint Torina again.

What to do—

What to do—

What to do—

Think—*now*—

No brute force could win.

Think deeper.

Rune Wraiths = rogue runes + wild mana.

Like ownerless rune magic.

If she connected before being crushed—

Mylora banished panic. Ignored the agony. Closed her eyes.

*Instantly—rune perception.*

*(!!)*

Frost and mist vanished. Violet-black mana surged like polluted rivers, warping all it touched. Shifting like radio waves—chaotic yet rhythmic.

*(Now!)*

As the mana "relaxed," she surged upright! Dashed forward, seized the core rune, poured her will into it—

BOOM!!!

Violent tremor. Sudden weightlessness. Mylora opened her eyes—her body, ice, rocks—all floating in complex orbits!

*(First crushing weight… now this!?)*

No footing in the chaotic field. She latched onto a floating stone, leaped toward the wraith—then everything *accelerated upward*. Gravity had flipped.

*(Damn—)*

She hurled her rope around a gnarled tree—roots anchored deep in frozen earth. Swung pendulum-style between trunks as the wraith hurled gravel like hail.

She drew Torina’s Rune Shortsword. Deflected large stones. Ignored the small. Swung. Felt. Waited. Gravity twisted wildly—up, down, left, right—but she hunted the fleeting gap.

*(Now!)*

Gravity pulled toward the wraith. She released the rope, fell, channeled every ounce into the blade—

The wraith ripped a boulder from the earth and hurled it at her—

RUMBLE!!!!!!!!!!

——————

Across the maze’s central zone, challengers noticed the anomaly.

Many saw stones float skyward. But arriving at the site revealed nothing—only Niflheim’s mist, spreading as always.

Was it an illusion?