The soldiers and commanders stood motionless, their eyes wide with disbelief as they stared at the skeletal face suspended above them.

What had once been a terrifying, moving figure was now frozen solid, like a heavy statue hanging silently over the chamber like a watchful guardian.

Their eyes slowly moved across the chamber. The eerie silence was broken only by their quiet gasps.

Every person who had turned to stone since they arrived had now returned to flesh and blood. Only those who had already been statues before their arrival remained frozen.

'What had caused the skeletal face to turn itself into stone?' Confused questions floated in the air, growing louder as they searched for answers.

All eyes eventually turned toward the elder standing nearby, hoping his wisdom might explain the strange magic they had just witnessed.

'Had the elder done something to break the spell?' They wondered nervously.

Or was it all just an illusion again?

Before anyone could ask the elder, Lina's voice entered their ears.

"W-we need to keep moving," she said. "There's no time to lose."

Ling Yan, not far from Lina, asked. "Lady Lina, is this the danger you warned us about?"

Lina shook her head slowly. "N-No. This… this is something else. T-there's something else deeper inside."

Without waiting for more questions, the group fell back into formation, their footsteps echoing steadily through the chamber.

Though an uneasy tension hung in the air, they pressed forward toward the towering gate ahead.

As they drew near, the elder's gaze flicked briefly to Reynold. He gave a small, subtle nod.

Reynold met it with the same quiet gesture, and no words were needed between them.

In the elder's eyes was a flicker of something hard to read: respect, surprise, maybe even a touch of pride.

He understood everything that had just happened, more than anyone else in the room. He knew Reynold's magic better than anyone in this chamber.

'To think, he had reached a point where he is immune to ancient magic.' The elder's thoughts drifted quietly.

'It must be because he had faced ruins like this countless times before.'

A gentle smile softened the elder's face as memories came flooding back, sharp and clear as if painted anew.

He still remembered the day Reynold had first arrived at the academy. It was during the academy's open enrollment, a rare moment when outsiders were allowed to prove their worth.

After overcoming every test and challenge, the moment had finally arrived for Reynold to choose an elder to become his master.

The grand hall was alive with a heavy, expectant buzz. Rows of elders sat in their high-backed chairs, their faces a mix of curiosity and calculation.

The headmaster, seated solemnly on a raised throne at the center, watched silently, his presence commanding respect from everyone in the room.

"Child, who do you wish to study under?" His eyes studied Reynold carefully. "With your qualifications, you have the right to choose anyone here."

Before Reynold could answer, another elder, his eyes gleaming with ambition, leaned forward and offered, "Choose me, and I will grant you a powerful artifact, one that few in the empire possess."

From the side, a third elder said confidently. "With your perfect sword body, you should follow the Way of the Swords. Choose me, and I will guide you."

All of the elders present offered to take him under their wings.

Their eyes were on Reynold now. They knew well what his rare, exceptional physique meant, a future warrior unlike any the empire had seen.

His very presence stirred fierce competition among the elders, each eager to claim the young man as their own disciple, hoping to mold him into the greatest powerhouse the academy had ever produced.

Then Reynold spoke. His voice cut through the hall. "I am not here to choose a master."

A sudden hush fell over the crowd. Confused murmurs rippled through the room.

One elder broke the silence, his tone sharp. "Then why are you here?"

Reynold met the question head-on, his gaze steady and unwavering. "I have heard the academy holds a secret place, where one can train to gain immunity to magic."

"The Mirror Trial?" a voice echoed sharply. "What of it?"

"I want to take the trial."

The entire hall froze. The air grew thick with disbelief.

"Does the Duke know of your choice?" another elder asked cautiously.

Reynold's answer came without hesitation. "My choice has nothing to do with my father."

The elders exchanged uneasy glances. The Mirror Trial was mystical and feared. It was a sacred test, reserved for elders themselves or the very best students.

Few survived its deadly, twisting challenges. Many who tried had damaged their magic cores, never returning the same.

However, those who endured the entire trial gained true immunity to magic, growing stronger and more resistant the longer they survived.

"It is not a place you can survive with your current strength," one elder warned gravely. "Your understanding is too shallow for such a trial."

The elder added. "And only elders or top students may enter it."

A pause later, Reynold replied. "Then I will become an elder."

The words stunned everyone. For a long moment, no one moved or spoke.

Finally, the headmaster stirred. His deep voice rang out clearly, echoing through the hall. "Why?"

Reynold hesitated only briefly. His fingers clenched at his sides. Then he spoke.

"To save someone."

The headmaster's eyes narrowed, a flicker of interest crossing his face. But he asked no more.

Instead, he leaned back in his throne and laughed, a rich, booming sound that shook the scrolls and banners hanging on the walls.

"Very well," he said at last, his tone final and accepting.

That day, the academy gained a new elder, one never recorded in any official register. A secret elder. Reynold.

In the years that followed, Reynold's body absorbed every harsh lesson the Mirror trial had thrown at him.

Day after day, his strength grew as he pushed through pain, exhaustion, and countless dangers.

Slowly but surely, he had started to gain immunity to almost every type of magic known in the world, spells that could cripple or kill others harmed him now.

Then one day, without fanfare or announcement, he left the academy, driven by an insatiable desire to research magic and alchemy further.

"Headmaster… that child…" an elder's voice trailed off softly as he stood beside the old man. Both of them looked out toward the endless blue sky stretching beyond the academy walls, lost in thought.

"With his perfect sword body… he should have followed the way of the blade," the elder whispered, "But instead, he chose alchemy and magic construct."

He sighed, his voice heavy with doubt. "Do you really think he can lift that ancient curse?"

The headmaster didn't reply right away. His eyes, worn and wise from decades of experience, stayed fixed on the vast, empty sky. After a long moment, a slow, heavy sigh escaped his lips.

"There's nothing anyone can do," he said quietly. "An ancient curse… It's a certain death."

…

Just then, a deep, low groan echoed through the ancient chamber, breaking the stillness.

The elder's thoughts snapped back to the present. His brows knitted together in concern as he cast one last glance toward where Reynold stood.

Without saying a word, the elder shifted his focus forward. With steady steps, he followed the others, moving toward the gate.