Tower 1 — Floor Nine, The Corridor of the Unwelcome
The moment they stepped through the archway,
the air changed.
Not colder.
Not hotter.
Thicker.
Heavy.
Like guilt.
Like blood.
Like a hand pressing on the skull from the inside.
Lyra stumbled forward.
"…I… can't breathe."
Aetherion steadied her with a flicker of cosmic energy, but even he felt it.
Ragnor coughed hard.
"Feels like something's sitting on my chest…"
Iris hugged herself tightly, trembling.
"This… this floor hates us…"
Aetherion nodded slowly.
"No.
This floor hates intruders."
Ragnor frowned.
"We've been intruders on EVERY floor—"
Aetherion's eyes narrowed.
"Not like this.
This floor was designed for a very specific kind of trespasser."
Ragnor raised an eyebrow.
"Who?"
Aetherion swallowed.
"…someone like DRM."
All eyes turned to the small, masked child.
DRM stood in the center of the corridor, completely unaffected, his head tilted slightly as he observed the walls.
The corridor stretched endlessly both directions, lined with statues—
no, bodies.
Stone bodies.
Hands reaching out.
Mouths open in silent screams.
Eyes carved with fear.
Lyra flinched.
"Why… why does every statue look terrified?"
Aetherion's voice was barely audible.
"These aren't statues."
Iris gasped.
"T-they're real?!"
Aetherion nodded grimly.
"Yes.
Frozen trespassers.
People who tried to enter the Tower before it accepted them."
Ragnor's fists tightened.
"How old are they?"
Aetherion gestured upward.
The ceiling was covered in ancient carvings.
A language older than the gods.
"Thousands of years. Maybe tens of thousands. This floor predates the human era."
Lyra exhaled shakily.
"So… if we step wrong…?"
Aetherion finished the thought:
"We might join them."
The corridor flickered.
The statues' heads snapped toward the group.
All at once.
Iris screamed.
Ragnor stumbled back.
Lyra raised her bow.
Aetherion reached for cosmic mana—
And the statues froze again.
Silent.
Still.
Their eyes now aimed solely at DRM.
Ragnor swallowed.
"…dude. Why is everything looking at him again?!"
Lyra whispered:
"Because he's the one who doesn't belong here…"
Aetherion nodded.
"And this floor knows it."
The Hall Moves
A grinding noise echoed through the corridor.
The floor began shifting.
Walls rotating.
Statues repositioning.
The entire Hall rearranged itself like a maze built from bones and stone.
A system message appeared:
[FLOOR NINE: THE HALL OF TRESPASSERS]
[RULE: KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN.]
[RULE: DO NOT MEET THE STARES.]
[RULE: DO NOT FOLLOW THE ONE WHO LOOKS BACK.]
Ragnor blinked.
"…that last rule sounds… concerning."
Lyra scanned the corridor.
"What does it mean… 'the one who looks back'?"
Iris hugged herself.
"I-I don't know… but I don't want to meet them…"
Aetherion whispered:
"This rule is about mimic entities."
Ragnor frowned.
"Mimics? Like shapeshifters?"
"No."
Aetherion's expression darkened.
"An entity that looks like someone you trust…
and waits for you to follow them."
Lyra shivered.
"And if we do?"
Aetherion's jaw tightened.
"Then you never come back."
Ragnor spat.
"Great. Amazing. Loving the vibes here."
Then—
Footsteps echoed.
Soft.
Light.
Behind them.
Iris froze.
"T-there's something behind us—"
Ragnor spun immediately.
"WHO'S THERE?!"
Aetherion's hand shot forward.
"STOP—DON'T LOOK—!!"
Too late.
Ragnor had already looked.
And he saw…
Iris.
Standing behind him.
Her face blank.
Her hair drifting.
Her eyes hollow.
"R-Ragnor…" the hollow-Iris whispered.
Ragnor ground his teeth.
"Nice try. Iris is right HERE."
He pointed to the real Iris trembling beside Lyra.
The hollow-Iris tilted its head wrong, like the neck didn't function.
Then smiled.
Not Iris's smile.
Something too wide.
Too sharp.
Too hungry.
Aetherion raised a hand.
"DO NOT FOLLOW IT—"
The mimic-Iris whispered:
"Come with me…"
The corridor darkened behind it.
And the real Iris screamed like her soul tore in half.
"DON'T GO WITH HER—!!!"
The mimic shrieked—
a sound like stone scraping bone—
and lunged forward.
Lyra fired an arrow instantly.
The mimic dissolved into shadow, its form unraveling like smoke under a bright flame.
The statues all screamed silently.
The floor shook.
Ragnor roared:
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT—?!"
Aetherion answered, panting.
"The one who looks back."
Iris sobbed.
"I—I didn't know they sounded like me—"
Lyra hugged her tightly.
"It's okay. It's gone."
But Aetherion shook his head.
"No.
It's not gone.
It retreats when threatened."
Ragnor's eyes widened.
"You mean—"
Aetherion nodded.
"It will try again later."
Iris trembled harder.
"I… I can't handle that… h-how do we fight something that looks like us…?"
Ragnor placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Easy. We break its face."
But Aetherion's expression darkened again.
"No.
You don't understand."
His voice dropped.
"The mimic won't imitate one of US next time."
Lyra asked:
"Then who?"
Aetherion didn't answer.
He just turned his head toward DRM.
The child walked calmly through the corridor, unaffected.
Still silent.
Still calm.
The statues bowed as he passed.
Lyra's eyes widened.
"…the mimic… could copy him?"
Aetherion closed his eyes.
"Yes.
And if it does…
we won't survive the confusion."
Ragnor swallowed hard.
"…so the rule is… don't follow the one who looks back."
Iris hugged herself tightly.
"O-or we'll follow the wrong one…"
The corridor shifted again.
A single path opened—
narrow, dark, winding.
The Hall wanted them to proceed.
Ragnor tightened his fists.
"Alright… fine. Let's go."
Lyra nodded.
"Stay close. Don't break formation."
Aetherion stepped forward cautiously.
"We watch each other's backs carefully."
Iris whispered:
"And what about DRM…?"
Ragnor stared at the small masked child now standing at the entrance of the darkened passage.
"…DRM doesn't follow anyone.
We follow him."
They stepped into the passage.
The statues' heads slowly turned—
Following them.
Watching.
Counting.
Waiting.
And deep in the shadows behind them…
something smiled.