The guardian moved like smoke and struck like flame.
One moment it was a shimmer in the mist, the next it was bearing down on Eren with a blade made of shadow an exact replica of Akreth, but darker, heavier, and laced with cracks that oozed red light.
Eren barely raised his sword in time to block the blow. The impact jolted through his arms like lightning, and his feet scraped backward across the stone floor.
The guardian's face was his own.
His same eyes, but filled with something colder than hatred certainty.
"You would carry me," it said with his voice. "But you cannot carry yourself."
Eren gritted his teeth and parried another strike. "I don't need to carry myself," he growled. "I need to face myself."
Their blades clashed again, ringing across the chamber.
Elira circled along the edge, unable to interfere. "It's a reflection trial!" she shouted. "It's not about killing it it's about overcoming it!"
Eren ducked beneath a sweeping arc and slashed low. The shadow mirrored him perfectly, blocking with the same angle and speed. Its movements were flawless. Mechanical.
"Then how do I overcome something that is me?" he shouted.
"By choosing what part of you survives!"
The guardian struck again this time faster, less predictable. It wasn't fighting like a memory now.
It was learning.
Eren stumbled back, breath short. The runes on his Akreth began to glow hotter, flaring with each strike. The sword was reacting not just to his will, but to the mirror version of itself.
The two forces clashed again.
Eren was knocked off balance. He hit the ground hard, air driven from his lungs.
The shadow stood over him.
"You hesitate. You doubt. That is why you will fall."
It raised its sword.
And Eren saw it his own fear staring him in the eye.
The fear of becoming the first bearer. Of repeating the cycle. Of being consumed by the same promise that had killed Cael and every flame-bearer before him.
He rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the killing blow. The sword shattered stone where he had been.
"Why me?" he whispered, rising to one knee. "Why does it always have to be me?"
The shadow stopped.
"You ask the wrong question," it replied. "Not 'Why me'... but 'Why not me?'"
The words struck deeper than any blade.
Eren's hand trembled but only for a moment.
He gripped Akreth tighter.
"I know what I've lost," he said quietly. "I know what I could become. But I won't run from it. I won't be you."
And with that, he stopped fighting like a warrior and began fighting like a man with something to protect.
He let the shadow strike.
Then he stepped into the blow.
A shallow cut traced across his side but in return, his blade found the shadow's chest.
And this time it didn't mirror him.
It screamed.
The guardian staggered, eyes wide for the first time.
"You chose pain," it whispered. "You let it in."
"No," Eren said, breathing hard. "I accepted it."
The runes on his sword blazed white-hot.
The shadow burst apart in a pillar of flame and ash, consumed from within.
Silence returned.
The stone beneath Eren glowed faintly, and the glyphs on the walls brightened in sequence, as if acknowledging victory.
Elira rushed to his side, helping him steady.
"You did it," she said. "You passed."
He wiped blood from his side and offered her a weak smile. "Barely."
They turned to the wall where the guardian had stood.
New glyphs had appeared freshly carved as if by unseen hands.
Elira approached and read aloud:
"Only one who sees himself clearly may stand at the gate. For it is not flame that ends the world, but blindness."
She turned to him. "The prophecy isn't just about power. It's about clarity. About knowing who you are before the flame makes you forget."
Eren sat against the wall, exhausted.
For a long moment, they said nothing.
Then he asked quietly, "How many more trials like this do you think there are?"
Elira looked at him with a faint smile.
"If we're lucky? Only a few dozen."
He laughed weakly.
It felt real.