Aron stood silently at the edge of the empty street, his sharp violet eyes scanning the desolate city road. A faint, cold breeze stirred his cloak, brushing the dust from the cracked stone beneath his boots. Without hesitation, he whispered, his voice calm and commanding, "System, activate the stairs to the 3rd floor."
[Activating in process...]
A translucent screen appeared before him, glowing faintly with white and blue runes. A moment later, the ground in front of him shimmered like disturbed water. From the rippling air emerged a staircase, its steps pure black and ethereal, floating above the ground. The edges of the steps glowed faintly with a ghostly white hue, casting strange shadows on the ruined street.
[Activation complete.]
[Please climb the steps to reach the 3rd floor.]
Aron exhaled slowly, turning his head to glance back at the silent city behind him. His gaze lingered for a heartbeat, as if taking a final mental snapshot of the world he was leaving behind. Then, without a word, he turned and placed his foot on the first step.
Each step echoed softly, a hollow sound swallowed by the unnatural silence. He ascended steadily, his expression unreadable, his body moving with the precision of someone who had done this countless times before. When he reached the 150th step, he noticed there were only twenty more ahead. At the very top hovered a strange door—deep purple and without a handle, floating as if defying reality itself.
Aron's lips curved slightly. "So, it begins."
He climbed the final steps and pressed his palm against the door's smooth surface. It pulsed under his touch and swung open on its own, as if acknowledging his presence. A blinding white light consumed his vision. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to find himself standing in an entirely different world.
Dry, cracked earth stretched endlessly in every direction. There were no trees, no life, no sound—only the brittle whisper of a dead wind. The air was heavy, suffocating, and yet utterly still. Aron stood alone, surveying the barren wasteland.
"So, it's empty this time?" he muttered, amused rather than alarmed. "The 3rd floor hallucination trial, huh? Normally, there's something... more. Guess mine decided to skip the theatrics." He shrugged with casual indifference. "Ugh, screw it. I'll figure it out later."
Lifting his gaze, he studied the sky. It was a perfect blue, untouched by clouds, eerily reminiscent of Earth. A slow smirk spread across his face. "Oh, so the sky didn't change. Interesting. Hahaha... looks like my little cheat—my glitch—is still here."
Aron chuckled darkly, remembering his past two runs through this floor. Different in detail, yet always conquered by his unconventional method. This time would be no different.
He stepped forward with purposeful precision. "Twenty steps right..." he counted softly, pacing carefully across the cracked earth. "Then five steps left... two steps right... and here we are."
He stopped at a seemingly random spot, but his eyes gleamed with knowing confidence. Looking up at the unchanging sky, he began to chant in a heavy, resonant voice:
"RITRROSIUN DUTOCIN!"
The sky shuddered violently. A deafening crack tore through the silence, reverberating like the heavens themselves were splintering. Lines spread across the sky like fractures in glass, splintering outward in every direction.
CRACK!
The false sky shattered completely. Pieces of blue dissolved into nothingness, revealing a horrifying reality beyond.
Above him stretched a blood-red sky, thick clouds swirling ominously. Scattered among the crimson clouds were eerie blue and purple motes of light, hovering and pulsing like watchful eyes. The land below transformed into a nightmarish graveyard. Countless broken tombstones littered the ground, their jagged remains jutting out of the dry earth like the bones of the world itself.
And then he saw them—corpses. Human bodies, perfectly preserved yet unmistakably dead, sprawled across the ground. Each one lay with its right arm extended, index finger pointing toward the shattered graveyard, as though accusing the dead within.
Most would have been driven to madness by the sight. Aron merely exhaled slowly, his smirk returning. "Ah, this part feels nostalgic... doesn't it, Malrisoz, illusion master?"
The barren landscape trembled as a sound like laughter rolled across the world. It was feminine, sharp, and cruel—a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Hahahahaha! What an amusing trial taker we have here," the voice boomed, reverberating through the crimson clouds. "You know me before even seeing me, huh? Interesting... very interesting."
Aron's violet eyes gleamed dangerously. "Oh, I know you well enough," he replied, voice dripping with confidence. "Your tricks are old news to me."
The world convulsed violently. The crimson clouds twisted into spirals as the earth cracked and shifted beneath his feet. The landscape began to splinter again, the illusion collapsing under its own weight.
Aron didn't move. He simply stood there, calm and patient, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
CRASH!
The false world shattered completely, revealing the true stage of the trial. Darkness surged around him, thick and oppressive, swallowing all light. Somewhere deep within that darkness, something stirred—a presence ancient and malevolent.
Aron's expression hardened, a razor-sharp focus settling over his features. His breathing slowed, his every muscle coiled and ready.
He was ready to face the enemy here and now!
_ _ _
To be continued...