Tower 1 — Floor Six, The Abandoned Bazaar of Echoes
The descent into Floor Six didn't feel like entering a new level.
It felt like stepping into someone else's forgotten world.
A warm breeze brushed past them—unnatural for the Tower.
Lanterns hung above.
Colorful banners fluttered.
Stalls lined both sides of a wide stone street.
Except everything was still.
Silent.
Empty.
No merchants.
No customers.
No voices.
Just a frozen marketplace left behind by something that no longer needed it.
Ragnor frowned.
"…this looks like a town."
Lyra's eyes scanned the stalls.
"Not just a town. A functioning market. Someone lived here."
Iris pulled close to Aetherion.
"It feels… too normal."
Aetherion's cosmic glow dimmed as he observed the walls, the ground, the air.
"No. Not normal. Replicated. Imitated. The Tower is showing us a memory of a civilization that once lived inside it."
Ragnor blinked.
"A civilization INSIDE a Tower?!"
Iris whispered:
"…did they… survive?"
Aetherion shook his head once.
"They are gone. Completely erased."
As if to confirm his words, a gentle chime echoed through the bazaar—
the hanging lanterns flickering like dying stars.
Then a system message manifested in the air:
[FLOOR SIX: THE SILENT MARKET]
[RULE: DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING.]
[RULE: DO NOT SPEAK TO ANYONE WHO SPEAKS FIRST.]
[RULE: DO NOT BELIEVE WHAT YOU SEE.]
Lyra's bow lowered slightly.
"…speak to anyone?"
Ragnor scratched the back of his neck.
"But there's no one here."
Aetherion's voice lowered.
"That is what worries me."
When the Market Wakes
As they moved deeper, things began to shift.
The lanterns brightened.
The banners lifted.
The stalls creaked.
Warmth entered the air—too warm.
Too alive.
Ragnor exhaled.
"…okay, what the hell is this? It's waking up."
Iris's voice shook.
"This floor… it's watching us."
Aetherion nodded.
"Correct."
Lyra's fingers tightened on her bow.
"But if it's a market… where are the merchants?"
As if answering:
A figure materialized behind one of the stalls.
A woman.
Pale.
Thin.
Eyes hollow but smiling warmly.
Hands folded in front of her as if she'd been awaiting customers for centuries.
"Welcome, travelers," she said softly.
Ragnor flinched.
"Shit—!!"
Lyra grabbed Iris.
"Don't talk. Don't respond."
The woman smiled wider.
"Would you like to browse my wares?"
Aetherion whispered:
"Do not move. She's not alive. She's a Tower construct."
The woman tilted her head, smile stretching too wide.
Her neck cracked.
"You may take anything you desire."
Ragnor's breath caught.
"That's… suspicious."
The merchant woman stepped forward.
Her feet didn't touch the ground.
"You must be tired. Hungry. Sad. I can fix all of that."
Iris buried her face against Lyra.
"I don't like this… I d-don't like this at all…"
The woman's smile trembled.
Her face twitching as if struggling to hold its shape.
Aetherion muttered:
"This construct is unstable. Don't look directly into her eyes."
Ragnor whispered back:
"She's LOOKING at me—"
Lyra hissed:
"Then don't look BACK!"
The woman's voice softened into a whisper:
"…won't you speak to me?"
She leaned forward—
her face inches from Ragnor's.
Her smile cracking at the corners.
Ragnor clenched his fists, sweating.
If he spoke, they'd all die.
If he attacked, they'd all die.
If he ran, they'd all die.
The rules were absolute.
Do not speak to anyone who speaks first.
The construct reached toward Ragnor's cheek—
her fingers stretching impossibly long—
when suddenly:
A small hand grabbed her wrist.
The merchant froze.
DRM stood beside her.
His mask tilted.
Red eyes glowing faintly.
Aura quiet.
Breathing calm.
The merchant construct trembled violently at his touch.
Her smile collapsed.
Her eyes rolled blankly.
Her form glitched, flickered, then—
She bent forward in a perfect, unnatural bow.
"I-I-I… apologize… I did not… recognize… y-you…"
Ragnor whispered:
"Recognize?! Why does she know him?!"
The construct backed away—all four limbs now trembling in terror.
"P-please… pass… quickly… the others m-may notice…"
Aetherion's voice was barely audible.
"Others…? There are MORE of her—?!"
The merchant collapsed behind her stall, twitching, glitching, dissolving into dust
Lyra whispered:
"What is THIS floor…?"
Aetherion answered:
"A marketplace for a dead race. And DRM—"
He stared at the small masked child, who continued walking peacefully.
"—is something that race feared."
The Fake Survivors
Further into the market, they found more figures.
Some standing.
Some walking.
Some sitting.
All smiling.
All perfectly still until the group passed.
As DRM walked by, each one:
Turned its head
Bowed
Or stepped back
Ragnor whispered:
"W-Why are they afraid of HIM?!"
Lyra's heart pounded.
"What did he do to earn that reaction…?"
Aetherion didn't answer.
He couldn't.
He didn't know.
But Iris whispered the truth the others wouldn't say aloud:
"…what if he was here… before… everything died…?"
The bazaar went silent.
Then—
A bell rang.
A cold, metallic one.
And dozens of constructs snapped their heads toward the group—
eyes glowing red.
Lyra stumbled back.
"D-Did we trigger something?!!"
Aetherion raised his hands.
"No… not us…"
He turned.
Slowly.
To DRM.
Who had stopped walking.
His head tilted.
His aura flickered—
a tiny spark of Stage 2.
Ragnor gulped.
"…did HE trigger something?"
A system message appeared:
[THE MARKET RECOGNIZES AN ANCIENT USER.]
[ACCESS DENIED.]
[BEGIN TERMINATION PROTOCOL.]
All constructs smiled in unison.
Wide.
Wrong.
Predatory.
Iris screamed:
"RUN—!!"
Dozens of market constructs lunged forward—
but all stopped midair.
Frozen.
Crushed by silent pressure.
Their bodies snapping like twigs.
Their smiles splitting off their faces.
DRM stood still.
Aura humming.
Eyes glowing.
The entire market bowed to him.
Even as they died.
Aetherion stepped back, trembling.
"…he didn't even flex."
Lyra whispered:
"…this kid… what IS he…?"
Ragnor exhaled shakily.
"I don't think we WANT to know…"
DRM continued walking—
toward a dark archway forming at the far end of the bazaar.
The entrance to Floor Seven.
Aetherion whispered:
"…this next floor… feels dangerous…"
Iris trembled.
"N-not dangerous… worse…"
Lyra swallowed.
"It feels like it's waiting for him."
They stepped into the archway.
The Silent Market collapsed behind them.
CHAPTER 16 — STATUS REPORT
Ragnor
Level: 13
EXP: +120
Physical: Sweaty, tense
Mental: High anxiety
Notes: Growingly disturbed by DRM's influence
Lyra
Level: 12
EXP: +90
Physical: Steady
Mental: Sharp fear reaction
Notes: Instincts heightening; intuition improving
Iris
Level: 9
EXP: +160
Physical: Shaking
Mental: Terrified
Notes: Time sense unstable; memory interference lingering
Aetherion
Level: 13
EXP: +150
Physical: Stable
Mental: Increasing suspicion
Notes: Begins forming theories about DRM's origin
Tower Construct (Merchant)
Status: Neutral → Terrified → Terminated
Notes: Recognized DRM as "Ancient User"
DRM
Level: ERROR
Mask Sync: 78%
Aura: Stage 2 — "Crackling Dread" (controlled)
Emotional State: Calm curiosity
Notes: Market constructs fear him instinctively