The atmosphere inside the first terrain was unsettling. The air was thick, heavy with tension and illusion, bending reality itself. Everything around Lila, Iria, Anya, Diego, and Darius seemed distorted, like fragments of different nightmares stitched together into one endless torment. Yera'el watched them closely, her calm and playful smile hiding the cruelty behind her eyes. She wasn't rushing to kill anyone. No, she wanted to break them first, to shatter their minds before crushing their bodies.
Lila was the one suffering the most. She stood still in the middle of a strange watery space, her clothes soaked, her eyes blank and distant. Every small movement she made was met with a ripple in the air, followed by another strike of condensed water from Yera'el. They weren't deadly hits, but each one left a mark, bruises, small cuts, burns from water pressure. Yera'el was toying with her like a predator circling prey too weak to fight back.
Lila could barely think. Her thoughts were clouded with guilt, confusion, and pain. She couldn't tell what was real anymore.
"Lila…"
Yera'el smirked , using illusion to summon a perfect image of Zora. As he stood before Lila, eyes filled with disappointment and sadness.
"I always stopped you from being an adventurer," the illusion said softly, his tone gentle but heavy with pain. "I told you it was full of danger. But you never listened. You always did what you wanted, and I let you. I only asked you for truth… but you chose to hide it. Why, Lila? Was I not a good father to you?"
Lila trembled. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She wanted to scream that it wasn't real, that her father would never say that, but her heart refused to believe her own words.
Zora's illusion stepped closer, his shadow swallowing her. "All I wanted was to protect you," he said again, this time his tone breaking. "I can't believe you would betray me like this. For what you've done… I hate you."
Those final words crushed whatever strength Lila had left. Her body fell to her knees. Her eyes lost their usual spark. The colors around her seemed to fade away. She felt herself sinking, as if her soul was being swallowed by the same words she once lived to hear comfort from.
Yera'el chuckled lightly, her voice echoing through the mist. "Such a fragile heart. I wonder how long until it breaks completely." She gathered another surge of water energy in her hand, planning to hit Lila again. The more despair she saw, the more she smiled.
---
Not far from there, Iria's world was different, bright yet oppressive. She was facing a version of herself that looked older, sharper, colder. The terrain around her was glowing with light, like the inside of a crystal chamber. Every move reflected a dozen times in the shining surfaces, confusing her sense of direction.
"You always took your life for granted," said her future self, stepping forward. "You thought that just because people called you a prodigy, you didn't need to work hard."
Iria gritted her teeth. "You're not real."
The future self smiled faintly. "Maybe not. But I'm right."
Without warning, the future self slashed forward, sending a wave of pure light energy. Iria countered with a Radiant Beam, but her attack scattered harmlessly as the illusion sidestepped it with ease. In an instant, the light slash hit Iria's arm, leaving a shallow but burning wound.
"Look at yourself," the illusion said, circling her slowly. "Weak. Lost. Pretending to be strong because everyone once told you that you were special."
"I'm not pretending!" Iria shouted, but her voice shook.
"You never respected those who worked harder than you," the illusion continued, her tone sharper, almost venomous. "You only looked down on them, thinking talent was enough. You don't deserve anything."
Another Light Slash came flying. Iria barely dodged this one, stumbling backward, her breath growing uneven. Each word cut deeper than any attack. Her opponent wasn't just faster or stronger, it was her own fear, her own regret given form.
But even as pain crawled through her limbs, Iria refused to give up. She gathered what remained of her strength and charged forward, shouting as she fought. Sparks of light scattered like falling stars as their attacks collided again and again. The battle grew fierce and frantic, light exploding from every strike. But no matter how much Iria tried, the future self remained untouched, graceful, calm, and unshaken. Iria's body, on the other hand, bore cuts and bruises, her energy fading with every clash.
---
Elsewhere, Diego found himself in an endless desert. The horizon shimmered under the cruel sun, stretching farther than the eye could see. The sand burned beneath his feet, but he didn't stop walking. He didn't know how long he had been there, minutes, hours, maybe days.
The heat was unbearable. His lips were dry, his throat ached, and sweat poured down his face. Still, he walked. Something inside him refused to stop. The wind howled softly, whispering voices he couldn't understand.
He looked around, no footprints, no shade, nothing but sand and more sand. It felt familiar, painfully familiar. He had spent years of his life in deserts, wandering through places just like this one. But this… this felt different.
It wasn't just the heat. It was the loneliness.
He had thought he'd grown used to being alone, but as he walked, the silence became deafening. There were no signs of life, no sound of movement. He shouted once, twice, hoping for an answer, but all that came back was the empty wind.
Each step grew heavier. His body screamed to stop, but he couldn't. His mind began to blur. He couldn't remember how he got here. Just this endless wasteland.
He clenched his fists and whispered under his breath, "I'm not done yet… not like this." And he kept walking, his figure growing smaller under the burning sun.
---
At another point in the same terrain, Anya faced her own nightmare. Her surroundings were a familiar scene, her old home. She saw her parents, her two younger siblings, and even Darius standing nearby. For a brief second, she felt relief, but that vanished the moment they began to speak.
"You always dream bigger than you can reach," her parents said, their voices calm yet heavy. "Why can't you just stay home? Why risk your life wandering out there when you could help here?"
"Big sister," her younger sister whispered, her eyes wet. "Why did you leave us? You could've stayed, worked here, helped us. Why did you choose to stay far away?"
Each word pierced her chest. She wanted to argue, to explain, but her voice wouldn't come.
And then Darius spoke. His tone was low, cold, and final. "You couldn't even stay with your family," he said, his eyes locked on hers. "So how is anyone supposed to stay with you?"
Anya's breath caught. She tried to speak, but no sound came. The weight of their words crushed her. Her broadsword slipped from her hand, falling to the ground with a dull thud. She stared blankly at the illusion of the people she loved most, unable to tell if she was angry, hurt, or simply broken.
---
And somewhere close by, Darius stood in a quiet house. He stepped down the staircase carefully, the wood creaking under his steps. Then he froze.
There, in front of him, was a woman holding a child.
He couldn't move. His eyes widened.
---
Yera'el watched everything unfold. She smiled faintly, her eyes glowing. "Yes," she whispered to herself, "that's it. Suffer. All of you. Before I end you all together."
All across the first terrain , illusions intertwined, everything feeding Yera'el's twisted amusement.