They approached the final test.
His heart pounded harder with every step as they neared the final stage.
"It… looks like a man."
Fae remained her usual silent self, looking ahead at what awaited them.
"This won't be like the goblins."
Alexander came to a halt, getting Fae's attention.
"I'll try to get its attention. I should be able to fight it… With my eyes, I can dodge its attacks, and keep it on its heels. When you find an opening, go for the kill. I'll try holding it with my tendrils."
She didn't move, or even nod, but he knew she understood him.
"Let's hope it's not too considerably hard..."
He started walking again, Fae right beside him.
He couldn't help but feel pressure.
For one, it stood perfectly still, and as they approached, he could tell that person was looking straight at them.
He couldn't properly see its eyes but he could feel its gaze.
"It's a man."
Both of them kept advancing, slightly slower and more cautious.
The man stood in the center, Alexander could feel its focus, like a bird with its prey.
Once they finally reached the platform, they took one last glance at each other.
In one decisive step, they got off the bridge and stepped onto the platform that wasn't like the others.
Unlike the rough stone of earlier paths, this one was tiled in a dark obsidian.
Scratches, burns, and shattered stone. It looked like time hadn't touched that place, but violence did.
The man, who kept his attention on Alexander, wore a white robe with a black interior. It looked simple and modest, yet elegant.
The way the sleeves were slightly larger at the end, yet still fit; or how the collar rose up the neck. It looked ominous, if anything.
Even the hat spoke of authority—wide-brimmed, slightly rigid, something a sorcerer-king would wear.
The man was tilting his head downward, the brim hiding his eyes from view.
Alexander walked along the edge on the left, while Fae took the right, slowly circling around the man without making any sudden move.
It felt like they were in perfect sync.
The man grabbed the rim of the hat, raising it to show one of his eyes.
Alexander's heart froze, as their gaze met.
Fae had irises that were bright white, which carved itself nicely against the white surrounding it. Her pupil and iris were easily discernible against the softer shade around it.
This man, however, had no irises whatsoever.
It was impossible to tell where his gaze landed. Like two open windows with nobody looking through them.
The man scoffed.
"Pathetic," he said.
Alexander stopped walking, his eyebrows raised.
It was the first enemy that could talk, something even Fae was unable to do.
"You don't deserve the sight bestowed upon you. You're a disgrace, unbecoming of the gift."
His voice was powerful with a uniquely low pitch. It added gravitas, painting the man as someone dignified, elegant. It wasn't rugged or broken, it felt smooth and composed.
Alexander, seeing Fae in place, finally dared raise his own voice.
"You mean, the class I received?"
The man slowly shook his head, true disappointment flooding his face like a dam had broken.
"You were given the sight, yet are so blind to it. This abomination on your chest…"
Alexander's gaze went down to Sunder's magical mark.
It was still burning, a feeling he had grown used to.
"I shall take it back," said the man.
He slowly reached under his robe, grabbing a sickle in each hand.
The handles looked like they were made of old, darker wood. It wasn't sanded or polished, it almost looked like it was freshly taken off the tree and poorly carved.
At the end of it, the curved sickle was fixed. It was a thick blade, that ended in a pointy edge. They had cracks, nicks and scratches, yet the edge looked razor thin.
With one in each hand, the man raised his arms.
"Thanks to you, I shall see it. What I would do for just a glance…" the man trailed off.
For a moment, he wasn't sure if the man was talking to him—or through him.
"What is it? What's down there?" asked Alexander, taking a step forward.
"Down there?"
The man scoffed again. His slightly irritated voice picked up the pace.
"There is no up down left right. There is no here or there. You haven't even begun to unravel the weave, you have yet to realize it's a single thread."
Alexander took another step forward.
"I feel it. The pull. There's something waiting for me down this hole," said Alexander, pointing toward the bottomless abyss.
"You can't see it," replied the man, disappointed once more.
He rotated the blades in his hands, spinning them quickly once before switching them from one hand to the next in a truly dexterous move.
"The same way you think I can't see you inching closer, or I don't see her behind me," the man's voice lowered into a murmur, "foolish."
He closed his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath.
"Your journey ends here. If you want to go 'down', then you'll have to defeat me... The Will Breaker."
Alexander took another step closer.
He's insane… but he is strong. I should be cautious.
He glanced at Fae, who was still ready and unfazed despite the man's words.
The thought that she could be corrupted crossed his mind.
She didn't react to the man's words. Her face, as always, was unreadable—but her gaze… he could read it.
She wasn't looking at the man.
She was looking at him.
It was almost as if she couldn't see him, standing between them.
Alexander slid his foot on the ground, pointing his sword toward his opponent.
He inhaled, his eyes focused, his sword unwavering.
Fae got in position, lowering her sword and tilting forward, ready to sprint forward.
The man lowered the sickle, a saddened expression on his face as he stood still, waiting for Alexander to make the first move.