Insomniac Player

The heavenly garden was silent.

Two colossal black trees stood at the center, sky-blue leaves glowing like fragments of daylight scattered across midnight. Between them waited the stone paladin, close to five meters tall.

Pale, weathered stone made up every inch of him, cracks running through the armor like centuries had passed since he last moved a muscle. A cloak carved from marble hung still behind him, and a massive stone greatsword rested point-down before him, both hands folded over the hilt. His face stayed hidden beneath a knight’s helm, only two sapphire lights burning inside the visor.

Daria’s voice dropped without her seeming to notice. "This is the boss?"

Damien’s instincts weren’t screaming danger the way they had with the Knight Commander. Something else entirely, closer to reverence, settled over him instead. His shoulders eased on their own, like drawing a weapon here would be the wrong kind of insult before they’d even crossed twenty meters.

The Guardian moved. Stone groaned under the shift, dust sliding off his armor as his glowing eyes lifted and settled on the two of them.

Both of them flinched. A voice rolled out across the entire garden, deep, ancient, belonging to neither man nor woman, more like the dungeon itself had learned to speak.

"Two children seek the Garden’s Wisdom."

"One bears magic."

"One walks beneath endless night."

His eyes fixed on Damien. "Nightwalker and Elemental Avatar."

Damien’s pupils shrank. "...It knows my class."

Daria looked equally caught off guard.

"Steel cannot conquer this sanctuary."

"Strength cannot seize its treasures."

"Only wisdom shall open the path."

The greatsword dissolved into a scatter of particles and vanished entirely. He’d let go of it on purpose. He wasn’t going to fight them at all.

Three circles of ancient runes bloomed underneath their feet instead, and neither of them could move a step out of them.

The Guardian raised one massive stone finger.

["Three riddles."]

["Three truths."]

["Three chances."]

A blue notification opened in front of both of them.

➤[Trial of Wisdom Initiated]

➤[Rule One: Answer the Guardian’s riddles.]

➤[Rule Two: Three incorrect answers result in immediate execution.]

➤[Rule Three: Violence is forbidden during the trial.]

Daria swallowed hard. "...Immediate execution?"

"We answer carefully, then." Damien kept his voice steady, mostly for her benefit.

The Guardian closed his eyes, and when he spoke again, it came out closer to poetry than speech.

["Before the seas first learned to sing, before the stars embraced the night, I cradled kings who turned to dust and carried beggars just as lightly. I drink the blood of every war, yet bloom anew with every spring. Though countless feet have wounded me, I never curse a living thing. Name me."]

The words hung in the air a moment before fading.

Daria frowned. "...Water?"

Damien stayed quiet, thinking it through.

"It drinks blood," she went on. "Maybe the sea."

He shook his head slowly. "The sea wasn’t there before the stars. And it doesn’t cradle kings."

"...Then what?"

He repeated the verses under his breath, piecing them apart line by line. Cradled kings and beggars alike. Drank the blood of every war. Bloomed again each spring. Wounded by countless feet, and never once complained.

His eyes narrowed, then lit up. "...Earth."

The Guardian said nothing yet, so he kept going. "Not soil. The planet itself. It existed before civilization. It holds kings and beggars the same way, soaks up every war ever fought on it, and still gives life back every spring." He glanced around the garden. "It doesn’t choose sides. It just carries everything."

The silence stretched a few seconds longer before the Guardian finally nodded, the sapphire flames behind his visor flaring brighter.

["Correct."]

The whole garden trembled gently, blue flowers blooming in waves around them.

➤[Level Up.]

➤[First Trial Cleared]

➤[Attempts Remaining: 3]

➤[Current Failures: 0]

Daria let out a long breath. "...That was terrifying."

"I wasn’t fully sure either," Damien admitted.

"You looked sure."

"I was faking it well."

She rolled her eyes. "...Idiot."

The Guardian shifted again, a new circle of runes forming underfoot, the whole garden pressing heavier around them.

["The First Truth has been spoken."]

["The Second..."]

["...seeks not knowledge."]

["...but understanding."]

He raised two stone fingers, and blue light gathered thick enough that the streams stopped running, the butterflies froze mid-flight, time itself seeming to catch its breath.

["Prepare yourselves."]

["The Second Riddle..."]

["...begins."]

Runes crawled up his weathered armor as a faint azure glow settled over him, his sapphire eyes moving from Damien to Daria and back.

["The first truth belonged to the world."]

["The second belongs to those who walk upon it."]

He lifted one hand, and golden dust gathered above his palm, weaving into words made of light.

["I am no sword, yet kingdoms rise beneath my hand. I am no king, yet rulers kneel before my throne. The more I am divided, the greater I become. The more I am hoarded, the poorer grows my home. Fire cannot burn me. Water cannot drown me. Steel cannot wound me. Yet one foolish tongue may destroy me forever. Name me."]

Neither of them spoke right away. Every line seemed to contradict the one before it.

Daria crossed her arms. "...Power?"

Damien let her think it through.

"Kingdoms rise because of power. Kings kneel to greater power. Can’t really be destroyed physically." She trailed off. "...No. The divided part doesn’t fit."

He repeated it under his breath. The more I am divided, the greater I become. But the more I am hoarded, the poorer grows my home. He started pacing a slow circle, turning each line over. Nothing in this riddle was wasted, that much he was sure of.

Daria’s head came up suddenly. "...Knowledge?"

He stopped.

Knowledge fit close. Shared, it made everyone richer. Hoarded, it left everyone worse off. Fire couldn’t burn it, water couldn’t drown it, steel couldn’t touch it.

But he shook his head slowly. "...Almost."

"What do you mean, almost?"

"The last line. One foolish tongue may destroy me forever." He looked at her. "You can lie, you can twist information, but knowledge itself doesn’t just disappear because someone spoke carelessly."

She frowned. "...True."

"So what is it?"

Silence settled back over the garden, the Guardian perfectly patient, like the wait cost him nothing at all. Damien closed his eyes.

Not an object, then. An idea. Kingdoms rise beneath it. Kings kneel before it. Divide it, and it grows. Hoard it, and everyone gets poorer. Fire, water, steel, none of them can touch it. But a careless tongue can.

His eyes opened. "...Wisdom."

Daria blinked. "Wisdom?"

He nodded. "The Guardian said this trial wasn’t about knowledge. It was about understanding." He looked up at the ancient figure. "Knowledge gets memorized. Wisdom has to be shared to mean anything."

"A teacher who actually teaches doesn’t lose anything by it, he gets greater for it. The more wisdom moves between people, the stronger everyone gets. Hoard it, and the whole thing rots."

"And the foolish tongue part?"

"One reckless decision, one arrogant ruler who won’t listen, and centuries of it can be undone in an afternoon." He thought for a second. "Knowledge is knowing a tomato’s technically a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad anyway."

He looked back at the Guardian. "Wisdom."

The stone head lowered, sapphire flames burning brighter than before.

["Correct."]

The garden answered at once, flowers blooming in waves, the frozen streams breaking back into motion, the butterflies picking their flight paths back up like nothing had stopped them at all.

➤[Level Up.]

➤[Second Trial Cleared]

➤[Correct Answers: 2]

➤[Failures: 0]

➤[Final Trial Remaining: 1]

Daria let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "...I would’ve said knowledge."

"So would I, honestly."

"What changed it for you?"

"The first riddle." He nodded toward the Guardian. "It wasn’t asking about dirt, it wanted Earth. The obvious answer was never going to be the right one here."

She smiled slightly. "So you started expecting something with more weight behind it."

"He’s not testing what we remember." Damien glanced at the silent figure. "He’s testing how we think."