The door closed behind Arios with a finality that felt deliberate.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a smooth, grinding seal that told him one simple truth—there was no retreat path left. Whatever waited ahead was not meant to be bypassed, delayed, or avoided. Phase Four had crossed a line. This was no longer about testing growth.
It was about erosion.
The corridor beyond the door stretched long and straight, the stone darker here, almost black, as though it had absorbed centuries of mana residue. The air felt heavier, not in pressure but in density, as if breathing itself required more effort the farther he went.
Arios rolled his neck once and adjusted his grip on the sword.
He walked.
The floor beneath his boots began to subtly change texture after several dozen steps. The smooth stone roughened, small ridges forming beneath the soles. He looked down and realized the ground was no longer static.
It was moving.
