Trial of Terror (1)
“Your Highness, are you alright?”
Yozef opened his eyes on the bed in his chamber within the imperial palace. As always, the servants attended to him, and without a moment to catch his breath, he washed up, ate, and threw himself into studies of imperial governance and martial training. Only when the sun began dipping low on the horizon, after rolling through his relentless schedule without respite, did Yozef sense a faint unease.
“Is there nowhere I need to be?”
“Pardon? What do you mean, Your Highness?”
“School... yeah, it feels like I was supposed to go to school.”
“School?”
Even asking the servants yielded no clear answers. Were the flying lion statues just a dream? He could've sworn he'd run into Deneb, whom he'd always seen as both friend and mentor since childhood, but the memory felt hazy.
“This isn't the time for that. I've forgotten a scheduled appointment.”
Yet oblivious to the truth, Yozef's days repeated in their monotonous cycle. Unaware that it was all an illusion.
The illusion magic enveloping him was unbelievably intricate. But This illusion was meant to show him what he feared most, and so far, that source of terror hadn't revealed itself.
“Hm? This book... I definitely borrowed it from the library...”
Then, by sheer coincidence, Yozef realized this world was fake. A book that shouldn't exist sat on his shelf.
It was the one he'd borrowed from the magic library as a child, overdue because he'd sheepishly delayed returning it out of embarrassment toward the librarian—ending up a full week late. He recalled how his father, the emperor, had scolded him harshly for it, reminding him to keep his promises.
“...Denebergen.”
The moment the incongruity hit him, Yozef began peeling away from the illusion layer by layer. Thinking of the magic library brought Deneb to mind. Remembering Deneb recalled their meeting in front of Denebergen Academy, and soon he realized he was undergoing the academy's trial. But he still hadn’t found a way to fully escape this illusion.
'Face what you fear most, overcome that terror, and conquer your dread—something like that?'
Easier said than done. It was just about suppressing the feeling of fear, right?
But Yozef couldn't even take the first step. Face what he feared? This was just his everyday routine. If this was mid-trial, did that mean the trial judged his greatest fear to be this peaceful daily life?
'Hah, no way.'
Fortunately, Yozef knew exactly what terrified him most. He was often gripped by that fear—not every day, but frequently enough.
What he dreaded wasn't routine at all. It was quite the opposite.
Rumble...!
“Ah, so it's starting.”
The instant Yozef acknowledged it, the world shifted in a flash. The maids and servants scattered around him turned to ash and vanished, leaving him utterly alone. And before he could even register it, reality flipped.
The clear sky bled into ominous crimson twilight, the pristine palace crumbled into eerie ruins.
“...Ah, so that's it.”
It exceeded even his worst imaginings. The sky wasn't the only thing drenched in blood—the ground was carpeted with the corpses of the maids and servants who'd been alive moments ago. Ignoring the stench of rotting flesh and smoke stinging his nose and eyes, Yozef wandered the palace interior.
The garden, always serene and quiet, lay deathly still today. The same silence, yet worlds apart.
“You've come, Yozef.”
A voice—neither clearly male nor female—drew his gaze to the end of the rose garden, where a doll-like figure stood. Blood dripped from the blade it held, staining the white roses red.
“Guh... guhuhk...”
The emperor—source of the blood, master of the garden, ruler of the realm—collapsed like a marionette with cut strings.
Facing the murder of his father, Yozef's smile faded, but his expression remained blankly neutral. Mechanically, his hand went to his waist, gripping the hilt of the sword already there.
“Guess, Yozef.”
The regicide grinned, mouth splitting wide.
“Am I your brother... or your sister?”
No words needed. Yozef simply drew his blade and charged.
What he feared was never some unchanging routine. It was someone who could shatter that routine.
And perhaps, deep down, Yozef knew. That figure might be one of his own siblings.
“Ugh... mm...”
I awoke to pitch-black darkness so thick I couldn't see an inch ahead.
The last things I remembered were Yozef's laughter as he entered the fog barrier called the trial, and Charlotte's piercing scream. Then came the sensation of my senses gradually blurring.
“What the hell is this?”
The guardian spirit had said it would show me my deepest fear in an illusion. But all I saw was void-like blackness.
Was this even an illusion? I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed.
'Maybe my senses are too sharp for this.'
Pure speculation, but a plausible one. Illusion magic worked by deceiving the target's senses and imposing the caster's desired scene. If the target's perception was too acute, it wouldn't take hold properly.
Even for a barrier crafted by top-tier mages pooling their power, my senses—underdeveloped compared to my past life—weren't fooled. So the illusion, meant to start immediately, was still frantically patching itself together.
Gaps appeared in the darkness now and then; I could faintly hear footsteps in the distance and the screams of students trapped in their trials. Reality and I weren't fully severed yet.
“Fine, let's wait until it properly takes hold.”
Truth be told, a bit of resistance would easily shatter this flimsy illusion. I could break out anytime if I wanted. Piercing such traps was assassin basics.
But since this was a group trial, I wanted to clear it cleanly without drawing attention.
'Plus, I'm curious to see what I fear most firsthand.'
The lion statue guardian claimed knowing the trial's nature wouldn't affect it, but I was skeptical. If it truly showed your greatest fear, couldn't you just expose yourself to it daily once you knew?
Anyone could manage that much. Fear spiders? Roll in a spider field. Ghosts? Patrol graveyards daily or hire a necromancer. Your terror would naturally fade.
Might even shift to something else, but better than ignorance.
“Wonder what it'll be.”
But I hadn't prepared countermeasures despite knowing the content. Simple reason: I didn't know my own greatest fear.
No matter how I racked my brain, nothing came to mind. Ghosts? Monsters? My parents' enemies? I'd slain the enemies 500 years ago, and the rest didn't scare me.
It even sparked curiosity. What would this trial show me?
“Oh.”
Right then, something began taking shape. I let out an exclamation.
A pure white glow gathered in the darkness, forming a human silhouette.
Who? Did I fear a specific person? No candidates surfaced.
Crackle—crackle—
Then, like puzzle pieces snapping together, the world formed. Centered on the glowing human—seemingly female—ground emerged, objects surrounded it, and sky capped it like a lid.
Forests and mountains rose, rivers carved through, clouds dotted the clear sky.
A quaint cabin stood in the field, and beside it, a woman—nearly fully formed—stood with her back to me.
“...Ah.”
Then I realized. The identity of the woman by that nostalgic mountain cabin.
I had no clue why the trial thought I'd fear her. But now, it felt utterly trivial.
'Am I an idiot?'
I'd just bragged about assassins shrugging off illusion traps. Yet this sight left my tongue leaden, lips parched, words failing.
It'd been 10 years—no, maybe 500.
“You...”
I stared blankly at her back. Not exactly as I remembered. She'd been a kid then; now a full-grown woman.
Much had changed, face unseen, but I was certain.
“...Yustina?”
Even from behind, the horns on her head were visible. White hair like winter snow cascaded down. Her pure white dress matched, its back laces undone.
“Yustina!”
I shouted her name again. But she didn't turn, as if deaf to me.
'Guess I need to go to her.'
Can't hear? I'd approach, tap her shoulder, circle around—see her face. With that thought, I took a step forward.
“...Huh?”
Intense dissonance hit. I'd definitely stepped forward. Lifted my foot, extended, planted it.
Yet the distance to Yustina hadn't shrunk at all.