Malak's cynical wisdom proved invaluable as he led KJ away from the direct, heavily-patrolled routes through Veridian's domain. Instead, he guided them towards a lesser-known, far more insidious challenge: the "Labyrinth of Lies." This was no mere maze of physical walls; it was a sprawling, mind-bending network of illusions and psychic traps, designed by ancient, forgotten demons to strip even the most defiant souls of their sanity. It was a place where perception was twisted, where reality was a malleable concept, and where despair was the most potent weapon. Veridian often sent troublesome captives here, letting the labyrinth unravel their minds until they were nothing but drooling husks. For KJ, accustomed to physical conflict and the raw power of his red aura, this was a new, unsettling, and profoundly frustrating challenge.
The air within the Labyrinth shimmered with an unsettling energy, twisting perceptions and subtly manipulating the light. Walls would suddenly vanish, replaced by yawning chasms or endless corridors that stretched into impossible distances. Familiar faces, fleeting glimpses from KJ's fragmented memories, would materialize before him: a stern-faced sensei from a dojo, a laughing friend from a dimly recalled arcade, a shadowy figure from that final, fateful alleyway in Tokyo. These apparitions would whisper tempting promises of escape, or chilling accusations of past failures, trying to lure him deeper into madness. The psychic static within the labyrinth made his connection to his own power unstable; his red aura flickered erratically, sometimes flaring uncontrollably, other times dimming to near invisibility, a mirror to his internal chaos.
KJ tried to blast through illusory walls with bursts of his aura, only to find himself disoriented and vulnerable, the energy dissipating into the false reality. He would lash out at spectral figures, only for his blows to pass through them, leaving him feeling foolish and exposed. The mental assaults were relentless, burrowing into his subconscious, dragging out fears he didn't even know he had. He saw visions of Tokyo burning, its iconic landmarks crumbling, innocent people screaming his name in condemnation, blaming him for their fate. Doubt, a feeling he hadn't truly felt since awakening in Hell, began to gnaw at him, a corrosive acid in his mind.
Malak, strangely immune to the worst of the illusions, seemed to revel in KJ's discomfort, observing him with his cold, blue eyes. "Your power is external, prodigy," he rasped, his voice a dry whisper that seemed to mock KJ's struggles. "You conquer with brute force. But the mind… that is where true battles are fought. This place feeds on your uncertainty, your fear, your attachment to that flimsy 'reality' you yearn for." While cynical, Malak provided crucial, if ungentle, guidance. He taught KJ to distinguish between reality and illusion, not by what his eyes saw, but by subtle shifts in the infernal energy currents only he could perceive. He urged KJ to trust his instincts over his senses, to recognize the subtle 'tell' of a false reality.
"Focus your will, not your fists," Malak instructed. "The illusions are sustained by your belief in them. Deny them your fear, and they wither." KJ began to meditate amidst the chaos, pushing back against the whispers and images, forcing his mind to become a fortress. It was an agonizing process. He visualized his red aura not just as an outward force, but as an internal shield, stabilizing his inner energy and, by extension, his physical manifestation. He focused on the fleeting memories of Tokyo – the clean lines of its architecture, the ordered chaos of its streets, the vibrant hum of its life – using them as anchors in the shifting mental landscape. With each mental barrier he shattered, each illusion he saw through, his mind became sharper, his resolve clearer. He learned to project his will, not just energy, forcing the illusions to momentarily dissipate around him. He emerged from the Labyrinth, not physically wounded, but mentally toughened, understanding that true power lay not just in brute force, but in the unwavering resilience of the mind. He had conquered an internal Hell, and that victory would be far more valuable in the battles to come.