The sword slowly faded into thin air as I let go of the thought of it. The silence in the room grew deeper.
Scarlett was the first to break it.
"Oscar…" She was still looking at me as if trying to piece together a new image from familiar features. "I think we've had enough miracles for today."
I smiled.
"I agree."
We returned to the main room and sat down at the table. The pain in my arm was still throbbing, but now it was bearable. Scarlett's leg was securely immobilized, and the crutches stood against the wall.
"We need to figure out what to do next," I said.
"First, we need to survive the night," she replied calmly. "Then another one, and so on until I can walk again."
We continued our search.
Behind the pantry, there was another door, almost invisible in the wall. Inside was a storage room. Shelves, boxes, tightly sealed containers.
Food.
Dried meat, crackers, grains in airtight bags. Sealed water flasks. Even a few neatly folded blankets.
I slowly ran my hand along the shelf.
"A human made this," I said quietly.
"Yes," Scarlett agreed. "But what kind of person would build this, and that device that cut off your fingers? It doesn't make sense."
But there were no signs of anyone having been there. No dust from footsteps, no belongings left behind. It was as if the place had been prepared… and then forgotten.
Or left for someone else.
We returned to the common room.
"Here's the thing, Oscar," said Scarlett, settling down at the edge of the table. "My leg. It needs time. If I'm lucky-a week before I can put my weight on it properly."
"A week and a half," I said grimly. "At least."
She grimaced but didn't argue.
"Then you'll go out during the day," she continued. "To scout the area. To look around. To see if you can find anything. Maybe a road? So that when I'm better, we can leave this place faster."
I nodded. It sounded reasonable.
We were silent for a while.
Then I suddenly asked:
"Does it even make sense to go anywhere?"
Scarlett blinked.
"What do you mean?"
I ran my hand through my hair.
"We're in a snowy wasteland. At night, creatures roam here that could turn us into a bloody mess in the blink of an eye, and we don't even know how safe it is here during the day. We don't know where we are." We don't know if there's even a way out. Maybe…" I shrugged. "Maybe this is where it all ends."
Scarlett looked at me for a couple of seconds, then suddenly laughed.
"What?"
"Oscar," she said, narrowing her eyes slyly, "are you suggesting we stay here? Live in a cozy little room, eat from our supplies, and lead a quiet married life with me until the food runs out?
I froze.
"W-what?!"
"Well, why not?" she shrugged innocently. "We've got a bed. We've got supplies. We've got light, too. It's almost romantic."
But I shook my head anyway.
"I'm serious, Scarlett. These wastelands… Whatever's out there at night-it's not just dangerous. It's… actually, everything here looks like something that shouldn't exist. Ah, never mind."
I looked at the streaks on the ceiling.
"We don't know where to go. Or if there's even anywhere to go."
Scarlett grew serious.
"Action is better than inaction," she said quietly. "Even if you don't know if you've chosen the right path. Standing still is definitely the wrong choice."
I looked at her.
There was nothing but resolve and confidence in her eyes. So I had no choice but to agree.
"All right. So we'll wait until you're back on your feet. I'll scout out the route. And then… we'll get moving."
"That's great, Oscar."
Night had fully set in. We could occasionally hear distant shuffling outside the door, but no one was trying to break in.
We decided to go to bed.
The bedroom turned out to be small. One wide bed. A thick blanket. Clean sheets.
We stopped at the threshold.
"Well…" Scarlett began.
"Yes."
Although the room was surprisingly warm, sleeping on the floor was a dubious pleasure.
"We're not children," she said calmly. "And we're not enemies."
I nodded.
"I guess?"
She frowned at me.
"I guess what?"
But I just waved my hand.
"Never mind. Forget it."
We lay on opposite sides of the bed, trying to keep some distance between us. The awkwardness hung in the air, almost palpable.
And then…
The smell.
Two days in the snow, sweat, blood, stress.
"Don't you dare say anything," Scarlett muttered in the dark.
"What are you talking about?" I decided to play dumb.
"Just shut up," she said curtly.
I smiled quietly.
Before lying down for good, I noticed a mirror in the corner. Narrow, in a metal frame.
Strange that I hadn't noticed it before.
I walked over.
And froze.
Staring back at me from the reflection… wasn't me.
My facial features had become sharper. More defined. That ordinary look I'd grown accustomed to on Earth was gone. My cheekbones were sharp. My gaze was deep, almost glowing in this white light. My skin was flawless. Blue eyes.
And my hair.
I touched it instinctively.
Black.
Perfectly black.
Not dark blond. Not ash-blond. A deep, rich color of the night.
I exhaled slowly.
I remembered how Scarlett had looked at me from our first meeting. With that strange expression.
"What the hell…" I muttered.
Surprisingly, it wasn't much of a shock. Although my changes were definitely more drastic than Scarlett's, whose only change was her eyes…?
After the sword, the interface, and the severed fingers, the change in appearance seemed… a logical next step.
"Oscar?" Scarlett called sleepily. "Are you going to stare at yourself all night?"
"No, I… never mind."
I pushed the extraneous thoughts aside and lay down on the edge of the bed.
The mattress was soft. The blanket was warm.
We lay there in silence. The awkwardness gradually dissolved into exhaustion. Even the smell no longer seemed important.
Outside, the wind howled.
Inside, it was warm.
I could hear her steady breathing right next to me.
And for the first time in two days, I allowed myself to close my eyes without expecting a blow, a scream, or death.
Sleep came quickly.
Deep.
Heavy.
Real.
The first normal sleep in all this time.
I woke up to the silence.
For a few seconds, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling with its faint glowing streaks, trying to figure out where I was.
Then I remembered.
The mountain. The door. The sword. Scarlett.
I turned my head.
She was sleeping on her side, facing me. Her hair was spread across the pillow, her breathing steady. In the light from the streaks, her face looked almost serene-if not for her pallor.
"Not a dream," I muttered discontentedly.
"Are you unhappy about something?" she replied sleepily, without opening her eyes.
I snorted.
We sat up almost simultaneously. My body ached, but after sleep it felt under my control. My arm throbbed with a dull, muffled pain-bearable.
"We need to clean ourselves up," said Scarlett, wincing as she sat down carefully.
I nodded. The smell of two days of survival hadn't gone anywhere.
We checked our water supplies. Several large, airtight containers, carefully sealed.
I estimated the volume.
"Even if we're careless with it, it'll last at least two months."
"We won't be here for two months," Scarlett said confidently.
"Exactly. Then there's no point in saving every last drop."
We agreed to use some of the water to wash properly.
I scratched the back of my head.
"If you need help, I can…"
And immediately realized what I'd said.
I fell silent.
Scarlett slowly raised an eyebrow.
I coughed.
"I mean… with your foot. But anyway, you… probably… can handle it on your own."
She smiled.
"Thanks for your concern, Oscar. But I can handle it myself."
"That's what I thought."
In the end, we set up a makeshift "bath" in the room where the sword had been lying, using a basin and some rags.
Only Scarlett washed up.
I decided it would be more practical to do it after the mission-I'd just sweat and stink up again anyway.
When she returned to the main room leaning on her crutches, she smelled of cleanliness and cold water. Her hair was damp and neatly pulled back.
"I feel like a human being," she said with a slight smile.
"I envy you."
We ate dried meat and crackers, washing them down with water.
Before leaving, I checked the "Arsenal of the Soul."
Noktis Terror responded instantly, materializing in my hand. The black blade vibrated quietly, as if responding to my intention.
I put it away.
"Try to come back," said Scarlett, leaning on her crutches.
"I'll try."
She looked at me seriously.
"Good luck, Oscar."
I nodded and walked out the door.
In the daylight, the wasteland looked almost harmless.
During the day, the wasteland looked almost harmless.
The light was dim and diffuse, but sufficient. The tracks of the nocturnal creatures had been covered over, as if they had never been there.
I had been climbing the trail for nearly two hours. The sled was no longer a hindrance, and my stride was lighter, though I felt the absence of two fingers every time I clenched my fist.
The summit greeted me with wind.
From there, I could see a fork in the path: two descents leading off in different directions down the mountain.
Today-the left one.
The descent turned out to be long. At first, a gentle slope, then steeper and steeper. In places, the snow had melted away, exposing dark rock.
I walked quickly, but carefully.
The light began to fade sooner than I would have liked.
"Bad," I muttered.
But turning back now meant losing a whole day of reconnaissance.
I continued.
Below, the mountain ended in a narrow valley. The path narrowed until it became a huge crevice between two massive cliffs.
The walls rose almost vertically.
I slowed down.
My instinct was literally screaming inside me.
At the exit of the crevice… there it stood.
Six meters of white fur.
A massive, disproportionate body, as if assembled from foreign parts. Instead of a face-a spinning black funnel of teeth, like a wormhole devouring the very air. The space around it was warped.
I sensed it even before I fully realized what I was seeing.
This cannot be killed.
Not now.
Not with my powers.
Maybe never.
I felt that if he spotted me, I wouldn't even have time to turn around.
The monster stood motionless, as if guarding the exit.
I didn't take a single step forward.
Very slowly, barely breathing, I backed away.
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like the mountains could hear it.
But the creature didn't move.
It hadn't noticed me.
When I was far enough away, I turned around and walked up the stairs with quick but controlled steps.
"So, the left path is blocked," I whispered. "I can only hope that on the right… there's at least something I can kill. I didn't even dare hope for an empty passage."
The climb back up turned out to be exhausting.
By the time I reached the door, the light had almost faded.
I touched the door, and it opened as if in response to me.
Scarlett exhaled in relief.
"You're okay."
"Almost."
The first thing I did was go wash up.
The cold water stung my skin, washing away the sweat, the fear, and the sticky feeling of my encounter with that creature. I stared at my left hand for a long time-neatly bandaged, no longer bleeding.
When I returned to the table, a simple dinner was waiting for us.
I told her everything.
About the crevice. About the six-foot creature. About the wormhole face.
Scarlett listened in silence.
"So we can't go there," she said quietly.
"No chance at all. Not even close."
She fell silent.
"Then you'll check the right side."
"Yes."
After dinner, the conversation became calmer.
"Let's do this," she said unexpectedly. "One fact about ourselves. One at a time."
"What for?"
"If we're going to survive together, we need to know who's beside us. Especially on Earth-we can't say we've talked much."
I chuckled.
"Alright. You first."
"I have a younger sister," she said.
"But I already know that."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Right… in that case. Um… I had ten rooms on Earth."
I stared at her with wide eyes.
"Now you."
"My parents were taken to the Spire early on, so my sister and I spent half our lives in an orphanage. So that's definitely a contrast to what you had."
She looked at me more closely.
"I'm sorry…"
I looked away.
"I don't need your pity."
She gave me a disapproving look.
"That's pretty rude, you know."
I just gave her a cold stare.
"Don't get me wrong. I don't need any pity. Usually, people feel pity for those who are suffering, but despite everything, I don't consider myself to be suffering. As long as I'm alive and can exist without feeling pain, I'm more than satisfied."
"In that case, I'm sorry. I didn't think you were so optimistic."
I smiled.
"I wasn't until recently. But that attitude helps keep you from going crazy. Now it's your turn."
"My sister is afraid of loud noises-actually, she's afraid of a lot of things-and yet she's still planning to go to the Spire…" She said this with a bitter laugh.
I didn't know how to respond. She'd already told me about her motivation once before. That had at least made me change my attitude toward her. Anyway, I figured I should just keep the conversation going.
"My sister is pretty cowardly, too. At the very least, she's afraid of the dark. And she was probably taken to the Spire, too. Just like me. I've protected her my whole life, but now I'm powerless. I can only hope she's okay."
"You know, at the academy, you didn't talk to anyone but yourself. To be honest, I never would have guessed you were like this."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Like what?"
"Like me." She said it without a hint of humor.
But I couldn't hold back my laughter. I laughed until I was in hysterics. I think from the outside, I must have looked like a madman.
"Sorry, I guess we have different ideas of 'similarity.' Even though your story is pretty heartbreaking, you're still here of your own free will, unlike me and my sister." At least you had a chance to talk your crazy old man out of turning his own child into cannon fodder.
I think I said too much. Because a vicious snarl appeared on Scarlett's face.
"You think I didn't try?" she snapped.
"I don't know, but since you're here, you obviously didn't try hard enough," I replied coldly.
She was clearly angry. But she seemed to calm down quickly.
"Oscar, why do you still see me as an enemy?" she asked calmly.
I just shrugged.
"I can't help my sense of justice. I guess my gut just refuses to accept anyone connected to 'the top.'"
"But my father and I weren't responsible for you, your sister, and your parents being sent to the Spire," she replied, looking me straight in the eye.
I didn't really want to talk about that. I wanted to change the subject. But Scarlett kept talking.
"You don't have to trust me. You can consider me an enemy. But I'm different; I won't regret anything I've told you or will tell you. Even if you can use those weaknesses against me. And I hope that someday you'll be able to open up to me, too."
The word "open up" set off a trigger in my head.
"No. Don't even think about it. My life has taught me a hard lesson. If you're weak, they'll break you. That's why I won't let anyone see my vulnerabilities."
"All right. As you say," Scarlett replied calmly, "but let's continue anyway."
So, sharing one short fact at a time, we talked for a while longer. Just getting to know each other. In truth, I don't feel the same hatred toward her as I do toward others of her class. But that doesn't mean I'm ready to accept her. Not yet.
When fatigue took over again, we lay down on the same bed.
The awkwardness felt even more intense than yesterday. The reason was obvious. And yet I felt that this conversation had done us some good.
Outside, night was falling again.
But inside, it was warm.
And so our second day came to an end.
The third day unfolded almost exactly the same way.
The right trail turned out to be no better than the left.
The climb, the descent, the cold wind-everything was almost a mirror image. I had already begun to hope that fate was simply mocking me by repeating the same landscape.
But down below, a repetition did not await me.
Five meters tall. A humanoid figure with excessively long arms. Instead of feet-heavy black hooves, driving stone into the ground. The face… or rather, what was supposed to be the face, was a mangled mass of flesh, shifted to one side, as if someone had tried to twist the skull around its axis.
In its hands-a huge axe.
It wasn't standing still.
It was pacing back and forth across the passageway.
Deliberately blocking the way.
I didn't even try to get closer. One glance was enough to realize-it was the same as the one on the left.
I turned quietly and walked away.
Two trails.
Two monsters.
Two dead ends.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth days unfolded differently.
I began to explore the areas where the trails did not lead.
I climbed crumbling slopes, skirted ledges, and looked for detours.
I found only sheer cliffs.
The mountain seemed to stand on a separate piece of the world-vertical walls, chasms that could neither be bypassed nor descended without suicidal risk.
I returned exhausted every time.
Scarlett gradually got back on her feet. First-with crutches. Then-leaning against the walls. Then-cautious steps without support.
When it became clear that the daily forays were only wearing me out, I cut them back to once every two days.
Another week passed in attempts to find a way through.
A couple of times I went further down the slopes, trying to figure out if there was a chance to go around the mountain range at its base.
No.
The mountains dropped down as steeply as they rose. Stone walls, cliffs, icy crevasses.
There was no point in wasting my energy on this.
I turned quietly and walked away.
Two trails.
Two monsters.
Two dead ends.
The fourth, fifth, and sixth days unfolded differently.
I began to explore the areas where the trails did not lead.
I climbed crumbling slopes, skirted ledges, and looked for detours.
I found only sheer cliffs.
The mountain seemed to stand on a separate piece of the world—vertical walls, chasms that could neither be bypassed nor descended without suicidal risk.
I returned exhausted every time.
Scarlett gradually got back on her feet. First—with crutches. Then—leaning against the walls. Then—cautious steps without support.
When it became clear that the daily forays were only wearing me out, I cut them back to once every two days.
Another week passed in attempts to find a way through.
A couple of times I went further down the slopes, trying to figure out if there was a chance to go around the mountain range at its base.
No.
The mountains dropped down as steeply as they rose. Stone walls, cliffs, icy crevasses.
There was no point in wasting my energy on this.
By the end of the second week, it became clear:
This isn't a maze.
It's an arena.
I stopped going on forays—it didn't make sense anymore. Now I was just conserving my strength and waiting for Scarlett to recover; I'd need her to pull off something.
And so, by the end of the second week of our stay here, Scarlett was already able to walk without crutches.
But unsteadily. Cautiously. She couldn't handle a long descent or a run.
We sat down to dinner—dried meat, grains, water.
The light in the cracks still illuminated the room evenly.
I was silent for a long time.
Then I said:
"There's no choice."
Scarlett looked up.
"Go on."
"We won't find a way around it. I've checked everything I could. So, there's only one option left."
"We'll have to kill one of them," she voiced her guess.
Silence.
"Actually, we're going to kill two of them at once."
She looked at me like I was an idiot.
"I realize this sounds like nonsense right now."
I looked at my left hand.
"In a fair fight—it's impossible. No way."
"Then?" she asked.
I exhaled.
"We don't need to kill them fairly."
Scarlett frowned.
"Explain."
I rested my elbows on the table.
— They're not friends. I saw a fight between powerful creatures on my first night here. Well, actually, I was lying on the ground with my eyes closed, trying not to breathe too much. But in the morning, I saw the torn-apart body of a creature that had clearly been killed by someone stronger.
She nodded slowly.
"Do you think they're in conflict?"
"I don't think they're all smart enough to have a common goal."
I ran my finger across the table, drawing an imaginary diagram.
"Here's the plan. I provoke one of them. I make him chase me. I retreat toward the other trail. If I do everything right, he'll end up in the other one's territory."
Scarlett understood before I had finished speaking.
"And then they'll run into each other."
"Yes."
She was silent, thinking it over.
"Are you sure you can get away from the first one?"
"I'm not sure."
The honesty hung in the air.
"It's a long way," I continued. "If I'm alone, my chances are slim." But if you come out the other side and do the same thing… provoke the second one and run toward me…
She exhaled quietly.
"We'll bring them together at a single point."
"Exactly."
I met her gaze.
"I don't know how realistic that is. We might not make it in time. We might miscalculate. But it's the only option where we don't have to be stronger than them.
Scarlett leaned back in her chair.
"Using their strength against each other… That's probably our only option."
For a few seconds, she just looked at me.
"Have you been thinking about this for a while?"
"Ever since I saw the second one."
She nodded slowly.
"This is crazy."
"Yeah."
"But…" the corner of her mouth lifted slightly "at least it's a plan."
I let a faint smile cross my face.
"We need to wait until your leg's fully healed. We'll have to run fast. Probably the fastest you've ever run in your life."
"I know."
We fell silent.
Night was falling outside the door.
"Oscar," she said quietly. "If something goes wrong…"
"It will," I interrupted calmly. "The only question is—how much."
She didn't look away.
"Then let's make sure we at least have a chance."
I nodded.
A chance.
For us, that was already a luxury.