Akira's eyes narrowed. He knew that he had to be careful. This woman was powerful, and she would not hold back.
She stepped forward, the light behind her bending and twisting as if it recognized her presence. Her long hair floated weightlessly, and the aura around her shimmered like molten gold.
"I am Seraphine, Keeper of the Fourteenth Floor," she said calmly. "You've climbed far, Akira. Farther than most. But the tower does not reward strength alone."
Akira held his sword firmly, feeling the residual heat from his last attack still humming along the blade.
"What do you want from me?" he asked.
Seraphine tilted her head, her expression unreadable.
"To understand who you are becoming."
Those words hit harder than he expected.
Again and again, enemies kept telling him about the "darkness within." Again and again, shadows tried to consume him.
And now this woman—this radiant being—spoke not as an enemy, but as if she saw right through him.
She raised her hand gently.
The room around them shifted.
The blinding light sank into the floor, spreading and reshaping the surroundings until the two of them stood inside a vast arena of white stone. High above them, an artificial sky swirled with colors Akira had never seen.
A warm wind blew across his face.
Seraphine lowered her arm.
"This trial will not be like the others. You will not be fighting shadows… or corrupted souls… or echoes of your own fear."
Akira tightened his grip.
"Then what?"
Seraphine snapped her fingers.
A second Akira stepped out of thin air.
Same eyes.
Same sword.
Same stance.
But this version of him smiled with a calm, unsettling confidence.
"This," Seraphine said softly, "is the you that the darkness hungers for. The version of you who embraces power without restraint."
The clone's aura flared like a wildfire.
Akira's chest tightened. "You want me to fight… myself?"
"No," Seraphine replied. "I want you to understand yourself. Only then can you climb higher."
The clone raised its sword and pointed it at him.
"Ready?" it asked, in his own voice—only colder, sharper.
Akira stepped forward, determination burning in his eyes.
"Come on," he said. "I'm not afraid of you."
The ground cracked beneath them as the two Akiras launched forward.
Steel clashed. Sparks flew. The arena trembled.
This opponent was different—every move Akira made, the clone mirrored perfectly, countering with identical precision. Every feint, every strike, every burst of spirit-energy was instantly copied.
But the clone was faster.
Stronger.
More ruthless.
Akira skid backward, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Tch… he's reading everything I do…"
Seraphine watched quietly, her golden aura swirling like a calm sunstorm.
Akira grit his teeth.
Fine, then.
If the clone was him, then—
He raised his sword above his head.
The clone raised its sword too.
Both blades glowed with a violent red heat.
"Dragon's—!"
"Dragon's—!"
Both called out the same attack at the same time.
Twin waves of burning energy collided in the center of the arena, thundering outward in a shockwave that nearly knocked Seraphine off her feet.
The blast faded. Smoke drifted upward.
The clone was still standing.
Akira winced; his arms shook from the impact.
The clone smirked.
"You hesitate. That's why we aren't the same."
Akira's eyes widened.
Hesitate? Me?
But deep down, he knew what it meant.
He still feared the darkness in him.
Feared losing control.
Feared becoming the monster others warned him about.
But maybe…
Maybe fear itself was his chain.
Akira lowered his blade.
The clone blinked.
"…Giving up?"
"No," Akira said. "I'm done fighting like you."
A warm aura began to glow around him—nothing like the clone's harsh flame.
It was steadier.
Focused.
He exhaled slowly, letting the energy settle.
"I'm not afraid of the darkness," he said. "I'm afraid of losing who I am. But that fear won't control me."
The clone rushed forward with blinding speed.
Akira didn't retreat.
He stepped into the attack.
Their swords collided—
But this time Akira's blade shifted, redirecting the strike instead of overpowering it.
The clone stumbled, surprised.
Akira struck once—clean, controlled, not fueled by rage, but clarity.
The clone froze. Its form cracked like glass… then shattered into fading shards of light.
The arena fell silent.
Seraphine stepped forward, her expression soft.
"Well done," she said. "You have not defeated the darkness. Not yet. But you have learned something far more important."
Akira sheathed his sword.
"…What's that?"
"That your strength comes not from power…"
She touched his chest, where his heart beat steadily.
"…but from the will that guides it."
The arena dissolved back into the bright chamber.
Seraphine extended her hand, and a staircase of white stone formed behind her—spiraling upward into the ceiling.
"The Fifteenth Floor awaits you," she said. "Climb, Akira. But be warned…"
Akira wondered at first the system had told him that there were only ten floors, he wondered how the floors kept coming
A faint sadness flickered in her glowing eyes.
The higher you go… the more the tower will try to turn your heart against you."
Akira nodded firmly.
"Let it try."