NOVEL WEB Chapter 261 – The Hall of Echoing Shadows
The team advanced from the chamber, leaving behind the shattered remnants of their darker selves. Each step they took resonated with newfound determination and camaraderie, the echoes of the past replaced by the promise of what lay ahead.
As the corridor beyond widened into a grand antechamber lined with ancient carvings and pulsating symbols, the team prepared for the next trial. They knew that the temple's challenges were far from over and that each obstacle would test their physical prowess, their mental resolve, and the bonds that held them together.
In that moment, Dabi allowed himself a brief moment of reflection—a silent promise that no matter how many mirrors they faced, no matter how many inner demons they had to conquer, he would lead his team to victory.
The dimensional gate was their destiny, and with every trial they overcame, they inched closer to the moment when Dabi would ascend, not only in power but in spirit. Their team bonding is increasing. They wish to win the international academy tournament.
With a final nod to his companions, Dabi stepped forward into the next darkness, the soft glow of ancient runes lighting the way. The temple's labyrinth still held countless secrets and untold dangers, but the team's laughter, banter, and unwavering resolve were the true light that would guide them through the abyss.
The corridor beyond the shattered mirror chamber opened into a vast, domed hall—the Hall of Echoing Shadows. As Dabi and his team stepped through the threshold, a palpable shift in the atmosphere washed over them.
Gone were the crystalline walls and playful banter of the previous trial; here, the air was heavy with memories, and every sound was amplified into a haunting refrain.
The dome overhead was painted with faded murals that depicted faces and figures from ages long past—heroes, villains, and nameless souls whose eyes seemed to follow their every move.
The floor, a mosaic of interlocking symbols and abstract images, pulsed with a dim, rhythmic glow that echoed the slow beat of a distant, mournful drum. It was as though the hall itself was alive, exhaling sorrow and hope in equal measure.
Dabi's footsteps were measured and cautious. His spatial awareness was at its peak, and he could sense that this hall was not meant for brute strength alone; it was a crucible of the soul, designed to force each member to confront their hidden pasts and deepest fears. He turned to his team with a steely gaze.
"Stay together and remain focused," he ordered quietly. "This hall will try to divide us by playing on our memories and doubts. We have to trust in ourselves—and each other."
Zen, ever the joker even in the gravest moments, gave a half-hearted grin as he drew his twin swords. "I can handle ghosts, but if one of these murals starts cracking-wise, I might have to cut it down." His comment drew a few soft chuckles, though the gravity of the situation was not lost on any of them.
Jeni's eyes narrowed as she scanned the wall murals. "Every face… every figure… it's like they're trying to remind us of who we were and who we might become." Her tone was laced with both curiosity and a quiet melancholy.
Yet, as she glanced at Dabi, a teasing smile tugged at her lips. "And you, Dabi—are you ready to face the ghosts of the past, or are you going to keep that mysterious aura of yours forever?" Her voice was playful, but her eyes held genuine concern.
Althea stepped closer to Dabi, her hand brushing his arm in silent encouragement. "The pasts are not burdens to bear, but lessons to embrace. I know you've seen things that you'd rather forget, Dabi, but they make you who you are. And I wouldn't have it any other way." Her words, gentle and sincere, softened the tension in his eyes for a moment.
Kiba flexed his fists and took a deep breath. "I've never been one for sentimentality, but I can feel the weight of this place. It's like the very walls remember every battle, every loss." His voice was low, reflective of the burden he carried—one of the scars both seen and unseen.
The hall's ambient glow pulsed in time with their footsteps, and as they advanced, the murmurs of the past began to rise.
Faint voices echoed around them, overlapping fragments of conversations and cries from forgotten warriors. At first, the sounds were indistinct—a whisper here, a sigh there—but gradually they became clearer, each echo laced with meaning.
A spectral figure materialized in the centre of the hall—a ghostly projection of a long-dead knight clad in rusted armour. Its eyes shone with sorrow and longing as it spoke in a voice that resonated with centuries of regret.
"Who dares disturb the silence of these hallowed halls?" the apparition demanded.
Dabi stepped forward, his tone respectful but resolute. "We are adventurers seeking passage through the gate. We come to face the trials set before us and to prove our worth."
The knight's spectral visage wavered as if testing Dabi's sincerity. "The path ahead is wrought with your own echoes. Only those who confront and accept the past can move forward. Prepare, for the Hall of Echoing Shadows will show you what you have long tried to bury."
The dim light in the hall shuddered as the ancient walls began to shift. Instead of the familiar reflections of their own past selves, the murals now glowed with images of long-forgotten heroes and adventurers— souls who had entered the dimensional gate long ago and never returned.
These spectral visages were not mirrors of the present; they were the lost legends of old, their expressions frozen in moments of triumph, sorrow, and defiance.
Dabi's eyes swept over the shifting images. There, etched into the stone, was the proud smile of a warrior whose gaze burned with determination; another panel depicted a wild-eyed fighter whose laugh had once filled the corridors of destiny; a third showed a noble leader with a spear held high as if challenging the gods.
Their faces, bathed in an ethereal glow, spoke of battles fought in a different era— of sacrifices made, of dreams dashed, and of heroic stands taken in the face of insurmountable odds.
Zen was the first to break the heavy silence. He tilted his head and squinted at one of the murals, which portrayed a rogue with a mischievous grin and a pair of gleaming swords.
"Hey, is that one of the legends?" he asked in a half-joking tone, half in awe. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or if I'm staring at a ghost of an adventurer who paid the ultimate price."
Jeni stepped closer, her eyes tracing the delicate brushstrokes that rendered a fierce warrior mid-battle. "These aren't our reflections—they're the faces of those who dared enter this gate long ago," she observed softly.
"Legends who fought for treasure, honour… maybe even love. And yet, they perished here, trapped by the same powers they sought to conquer." Her tone carried both admiration and sorrow as if she mourned the lost potential of every hero captured on the ancient stone.
Across the hall, a series of murals depicted not youthful echoes of the team, but grim visaged of long-departed adventurers.
There was the knight with eyes that burned with fervour even in death, a mage whose tear-streaked face spoke of regrets, and a huntress poised in eternal vigilance.
Their gazes seemed to follow the team's every move, their silent testimony echoing through the chamber like the whispers of forgotten battles.
Dabi's eyes fell upon a mural that told a story all its own— a proud figure, clad in battered armour and bearing scars of countless conflicts, stood before a vast, ominous gate.
The face was etched with determination and defeat in equal measure. For a moment, Dabi felt as if that warrior's eyes met his own— a silent challenge from beyond the veil of time.
He murmured, "These souls… They fought for a dream and lost everything. Their legacy is a warning and an inspiration."
Althea stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Dabi's arm. "They are the echoes of past adventures, Dabi. Not our past selves, but the ghosts of those who dared to dream. Their stories are written on these walls for us to learn from, to honour, and perhaps to help us avoid their fate."
Her eyes shone with empathy as she regarded the spectral visages, her voice steady amid the oppressive weight of history.
The atmosphere grew denser still as if the very air around them carried the weight of lost hope and unfulfilled ambition. Then, as if summoned by their silent contemplation, a soft glow began to emanate from a far wall.
Slowly, the images on that mural shifted— one of the long-departed adventurers stepped from the stone, his form wavering like mist. His armour, though ancient and cracked, glowed faintly with the residue of lost power.