It was the same empty room, vast and open, with towering walls that rose straight up… just vanishing into the shadows. There were no curves, no ornaments to make it look good, just sheer surface of dark stone, cut into massive interlocking slabs like a fortress built by something that didn’t care for beauty.

The same air, dense and still…

The room was exactly the same.

…

That is, if you didn’t notice that the two worlds seemed to be fighting for existence.

The white room from before was fighting for survival; it was almost like the whole room was glitching between the two worlds.

The lines that separated the two worlds were sharp, flickering with the same green lines.

He had never seen something like this, but how many times has he said this? Really, in the last year or two, he didn’t even remember anymore how much time had gone, he had seen so many new things.

It’s hard to think that if his master never died, he would still be doing the same thing…

So much had happened… really, thirteen and fourteen were definitely the hardest years of his whole life. Never in a thousend year would he think that he would be inside a Seeker Titan, fighting the embodiment of Denial, while being dead.

Even more with a blade that is a replica of a blade created to challenge the Gods.

And that shouldn’t even exist.

And not to mention the rank of the book he had to beat to enter.

He sighed, looking at Denial.

His body was exhausted, and yet he wanted to fight; he wanted to kill this guy so much, yet he wasn’t sure he could; he didn’t know if his body would allow him.

Plus, he wasn’t very inspired at the moment, and it mattered, since in the state his mind was at the moment, he could never be able to figure out a way to attack this guy.

Since even if he was outside the illusion, it didn’t mean he could now attack him, there was a big chance that he still didn’t have a physical body… and he wasn’t sure if the guy could pull him back in another cycle.

And if he did, he wouldn’t be able to escape in time.

He would go insane before he could even figure out he Denial was real again.

…

As much as he wanted, it was better to leave, to try and get out. But would he even be able to do it? Would he be allowed to leave?

After all, the note said that once he entered, the trial wouldn’t let him leave until his hope was shattered, and if that happened, would he really be able to get it back up and come back?

If that was the only way to retreat, could he get it back?

He wanted to say yes, but if that was the case, it wouldn’t be that hard to escape this place.

So he somehow had to figure out a way to leave without letting go of his hope.

…

Maybe the lift would still work.

Aether didn’t look away from Denial, he wasn’t going to same mistake as before. Slowly stepping back. He didn’t even know if the lift was behind him, but since the throne behind Denial seemed to be the same as when he first entered, he should be in line with the lift.

He was careful with his steps, trying not to fall, accidentally this time.

In the end, he was right, finding the lift. But… nothing happened, and there wasn’t any button to make it go down. He should have expected it.

But, while gritting his teeth, he accidentally looked to check if there was something around the lift.

And when he looked back, Denial was gone.

‘Shit.’

Denial grabbed his chin, making him look into his face, into the white glow slowly corrupting his vision.

But this time, he summoned Voidpiercer, holding it tight in his hand.

…

…

…

Yet, before he could get back into the illusion, abyssal matter emerged from his face, wrapping around Denial’s hand and face, shaking the illusion.

…

…

When Aether opened his eyes, he wasn’t in the cell anymore; he was inside an illusion, but at the same time, he didn’t think this one was caused by Denial, or rather, it wasn’t where he had wanted him to go.

Plus, he had all his memories.

The Abyss… that damn bastard had been useful for once.

This was definitely his doing, after all; he couldn’t use Abyssal Matter, so who else could have done it?

By his guess, because Denial was using his power to create the illusion, the Abyss corrupted that Ability, choosing the place where he would be transported.

…

But what even was this place?

‘A garden?’

The garden lay like a memory half-remembered, cradled by the walls of a forgotten estate. Sunlight filtered through the ancient oaks, dust motes floating lazily in its golden warmth. Every path was overgrown with ivy, curling around cobblestones slick with age, and every corner was alive with the smell of flowers, rich and heavy, sweet and earthy all at once. Roses dominated the scene, a riot of colors spilling across trellises and beds: crimson, white, amber, and delicate pinks, each one trembling under the gentle caress of the morning breeze.

Among them, impossibly, were blue roses, petals the hue of twilight skies, like fragments of some dream caught in bloom. Their color seemed almost unreal, as though they had been painted by the hands of some meticulous god who delighted in the strange and beautiful. They curled and opened in quiet arrogance, a contrast to the more familiar roses, yet they did not draw all attention. The garden refused to favor one flower over another; every blossom demanded notice, every scent a note in the symphony of flora.

A stone fountain stood in the center, cracked and moss-draped, its waters long dry. Around it, the roses leaned toward one another, a congregation of colors, as though whispering secrets. Here, the air was heavy with the scent of roses and the faint, almost metallic tang of soil. Butterflies flitted through the air, their wings brushing petals so tenderly it seemed as if the flowers themselves had learned to bend around them.

Yet, among the brilliance, one rose stood out in its decay. Its petals were black, curled like parchment left too long in the sun, stem brittle and bowed. It was almost ashamed, or perhaps it mourned, an echo of something once glorious now surrendered to time. The blue roses seemed to glance at it in quiet pity, their color muted in the afternoon light. Even in its withering, it carried a certain solemnity, a reminder that beauty was fleeting, and that even gardens that seemed eternal had corners of sorrow hidden in their heart.

The paths wound on, lined with fragrant beds and secret alcoves, each turn revealing another riot of life. Clusters of tiny violets, deep marigolds, and trailing jasmine hung over low walls, and the scent of honeysuckle clung to the air like a memory. Sunlight pooled in dappled patches, igniting the colors in bursts of brilliance, yet shadows lingered beneath the arches of twisted wisteria, dark and calm, sheltering moments of quiet stillness.

The garden held its own rhythm, a quiet pulse in the warm air. Blue roses lifted their petals like tiny fragments of sky, impossible and serene, while the withered rose lingered in muted shadow, a single note of stillness among the abundance. Sunlight scattered through the leaves, brushing paths of moss and curling ivy, setting every bloom aglow in a fleeting brilliance. Between bursts of color, the air smelled of earth and honey, and in the hush beneath the trellises, the garden seemed to breathe, each flower, vivid or fading, woven into the same timeless tapestry.

…

Why did this remind him so much of the two districts, and why did the Abyss want him to see it?

Yet as he was admiring the place, someone stepped out of the shadows.

The person looking exactly like him… none other than the Abyss.

“You’ve been quiet lately. What happened? I have questions, you know? Like, what even is this place?”

The Abyss scoffed, annoyed, since he knew that he wouldn’t let him go until he answered all of them.

“This place is a part of my past. What did you think it was? It actually holds… quite a sentimental weight.”

…

“Bo ho, cry.”

The Abyss stared dumbfounded, trying to see if he was just trying to annoy him or something.

“What… what is seriously wrong with you? I open myself one time and… just forget it.”

Aether rolled his eyes.

“I mean, you’ve got weird memories, so when you say that this place has sentimental weight i can only think of the most absurd reason.”

The Abyss raised one of his brows.

“What other memories have you seen? I was cut off from you when you went into the illusion, so I didn’t see.”

So that was why he was not speaking, makes sense. But at the same time, it was terrifying how powerful Denial was, or rather, its ability. And impressive on Voidpiercer for being able to break it.

“Well, for example, that little shitty black desert.”

…

…

“I’ve… never been in a black desert…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep