"A predator in the conceptual realm hunts not your body, but the signature of your existence. To be hunted by a Mythic is to feel your own history unravel." — Archival Log, Nagalira, 887 AE
The voice was not sound; it was an imposition. Uhayyad, the Architect of the Mugenkyou, had locked onto Ken's conceptual location. The realization was a paralyzing, cold dread, far worse than the grief radiating from the Pillar on his back.
"I see the noise, Trail Walker. And now I know you are carrying what is mine."
Ken stumbled, the crystalline ground jarring his teeth. He felt a conceptual probe—a delicate, insidious tendril of Uhayyad's consciousness reaching out, tracing the chaotic noise Ken was emitting. It wasn't an attack of force, but of inquiry, seeking the specific signature of the Pillar of Grief and Kabe's silent mind within the protective static.
Ken tightened his grip on the Pillar of Dreams, pouring the last dregs of his conceptual energy into maintaining the Conceptual Camouflage. The effort was immense, like trying to hold two perfectly balanced spheres of plasma in his bare hands.
"He is not yours," Ken whispered, a fierce, desperate oath.
The voice responded, an unnervingly calm whisper in the hollows of his mind. "He is unfinished. I guided his fracture. The Pillar of Grief is merely the physical manifestation of the blueprint I provided. You are the custodian of my work. Lay down your burden, child, and the sanctuary will be yours."
The assault began subtly. Uhayyad wasn't trying to destroy the camouflage; it was trying to exploit the emotional vulnerabilities that lay beneath it.
Ken saw his mother, standing alone on the hillside, smiling, before her image was violently pulled apart by geometric strings, leaving only shattered sorrow. He saw Kabe, as a child, reaching for him, his hand turning to dust before Ken could grasp it. These were not mere memories; they were Conceptual Weapons crafted from his own deepest fears, amplified by the Pillar of Grief.
The Pillars reacted violently. The Pillar of Grief screamed internally, pushing Ken toward absolute, despairing paralysis. The Pillar of Dreams flared to compensate, overwhelming Ken with a reckless, terrifying sense of omnipotence—the urge to drop the burden and rush forward alone.
Don't look at the memories. Look at the Trail.
Ken forced his eyes upward, focusing on the colossal spire of Nagalira in the distance. It was the only unwritten constant in this chaotic landscape—a beacon of perfect, unbroken history.
He remembered Tina-sensei's final lesson on dealing with Mythic Entities: "Don't fight the signal. Overwhelm the channel."
Ken realized Uhayyad was using the Conceptual Wake he was traversing as its own hunting ground. He had to leave the Trail entirely, but there was nowhere else to go.
The spire was close enough now that Ken could feel the Gravity of History emanating from it—a powerful psychic force that locked all causality into place.
Ken performed a conceptual leap of faith. He used the Pillar of Dreams not to navigate, but to shatter the Conceptual Wake around him. He poured the infinite potential of the Dream Shard into the ground, violently rejecting the current reality of the Trail.
The crystalline ground beneath him erupted, not in fire, but in a silent, blinding conceptual explosion. Ken and his burdens were momentarily suspended in a void—a split-second of non-existence, free from the grasp of both the Mugenkyou and the Unwritten Trail.
When reality snapped back, Ken found himself several hundred yards closer to the Nagalira spire, no longer on the clean, crystalline Trail, but sinking into a rough, gravel-like surface—the actual, resistant earth of the city's conceptual threshold.
The Conceptual Camouflage shattered. The Pillar of Dreams was dark, its energy exhausted. The Pillar of Grief containment unit vibrated violently, its sorrow now loud and raw.
But Ken was through the barrier. He had reached the Threshold of Nagalira.
The spire loomed above him, impossibly vast, with a single, massive gateway—an archway carved from solidified time, framed by swirling, protective runes.
He heard Uhayyad's voice one last time, filled not with malice, but with a profound, terrifying certainty.
"You have arrived. I have waited for you, Ken Hiroki. You carried my key to my door. Come inside. It is time for you to meet the Weaver of Memory."
The voice vanished. All that remained was the silence of the immense, ancient city. Ken staggered to the immense gate, the sheer weight of his burdens finally collapsing him. He fell onto the gravel, dragging Kabe's limp body with him, just under the shadow of the threshold. He had reached the gates, but he had nothing left to open them with.