The sensation of falling dragged on forever, like a roller coaster designed by a sadist who had forgotten the brakes. Ethan finally smashed onto something solid. Dust rose in metallic sparks, as if the floor itself was sharpened steel.
He lifted his head—and almost believed he was already dead.
At the labyrinth's center hovered an inverted black pyramid, its tip stabbing the ground, as though the whole world was dangling from its shadow. Its seamless surface shimmered with grotesque symbols, symbols that breathed mockery, winking and grimacing as if whispering:
"You're all idiots."
Ember stumbled beside him, jaw unhinged enough to swallow a rat."This… this is the labyrinth's core? Looks more like the universe's trash can lid."
"At least a trash lid keeps the stink inside," Ethan muttered. "This thing perfumes the air with despair."
Around them, survivors were scarce and wild-eyed. Some shouted to storm inside and "find the truth," others collapsed to their knees in prayer, as if the Black Pyramid might spit out winning lottery numbers.
Then the surface shuddered. Black fissures opened, stretching into a passageway. From within leaked a drunken whisper:
"Come on in. Didn't you want the truth? Get inside, morons."
Everyone stared at one another. It wasn't divine revelation. More like a drunk game-show host baiting contestants.
Ember scratched his head. "Maybe we… don't? Sounds less like an invitation, more like a telemarketer pushing insurance."
Ethan's voice cut cold. "We've got no choice. Behind us is Nothingness. Ahead is the Pyramid. Between dying of boredom and buying the nightmare package—let's see what's on sale."
So they entered.
Inside, space expanded obscenely, like an inverted theater. Walls were lined with mirrors. Each reflection showed distorted versions of them: withered, rotting, slitting their own throats, or already lying dead in some hypothetical future.
"The designer here must've majored in black comedy," Ethan muttered. "Cheaper than therapy, and twice as cruel."
The deeper they walked, the colder it grew. Black liquid seeped between floor tiles, stinking like cheap coffee mixed with carrion.
At the core loomed a massive hall. Floating at its center was a colossal tome, taller than a man, bound in pure black. On its cover, three words blazed:
"The Charter of Nothingness."
Pages turned by unseen hands, each one flashing venomous decrees:
"All resistance ends in zero."
"All loyalty ends in betrayal."
"All hope ends in dissolution."
Ember cursed loudly: "It's just self-help quotes written backwards! And it needed a whole damn Pyramid for this?"
But Ethan's gaze froze. On the final page was a line etched into his marrow:
"The Nightmare Key shall become the Voice of Nothingness."
His hand trembled. The words weren't just written—they were branded into his brain.
"See?" came the whisper of the void. "You thought you reached the core to claim answers. In truth, you were dragged here to sign your will. Humanity's future already dangles upside down on this Pyramid."
A boom echoed. The mirrored walls cracked, fissures branching into grotesque laughing faces. The entire chamber was chuckling at them.
Ember lifted his weapon, snarling at the tome. "Enough! Don't think we'll swallow every word! Even if it's a trap, we'll tear a hole through it!"
Ethan raised his head slowly. His eyes gleamed with warped light. He laughed—mad, broken, deliberate."Right. If the so-called truth is just a will, then we'll use this damn Charter as toilet paper and smear Nothingness with it."
The Pyramid shrieked with laughter. The tome slammed shut, releasing a quake that hurled them across the hall.
The Black Pyramid began to spin, groaning like the end of a world. Ethan hit the floor, coughing blood, but through the pain, one thought surfaced—wild, ridiculous, and possibly the only way forward:
"Maybe the only way to defeat Nothingness… is to out-absurd it."