Alright then. New floor, new horrors.
<00:00:01
Day 259>
12:23:59:59> 23:59:59> …That whole boss fight took exactly twenty-four hours? Huh. I feel like some time-warping effects of some sorts might have surrounded this all, but… Well, whatever. It isn’t that important. What is important is that this lobby is still totally WHITE, and you all know what that means. From doing this schtick so many times, I’ve actually started getting a hang of how to best do it. It’s all about controlling the rate at which you heal, and also to use the natural pumping of my blood to accurately use it almost as a hose. It takes some skill, but by this point, I’ve got skill in excess. Within less than an hour, the lobby is all nice and painted. Only twenty-three hours left to go. I wonder what I should use all of these hours for? Training my tolerances would be my first option, but it also doesn’t hurt to train my movement skills. Hmmm… No. No, now that I think about it, there’s just one thing I have to do that’s a touch more important. I open up my PMs and type one up for Moleman. beat f10 n i got a wish so i tght u might wnna know bout it cuz i wishd 4 info n this is wat da God of Pain saide…> It takes me a few minutes just to write everything He told me. Apparently, I was already starting to forget a lot of things, since now that I’m actually thinking about it, a few of the things I recall feel very new. Whether or not Moleman knows any of this is up to fate, because I sure don’t know. He might have asked about this way back and even made a post about it. I don’t really check that kind of stuff, so I wouldn’t know. After I’ve finished dictating this behemoth of a message, I give it a quick once-over just to make sure I didn’t accidentally lie. Since I didn’t, I quickly send it off. And now, we wait. And wait. And wait… How long has it been since I sent it? <01:15:01 Day 259> 12:22:44:59> This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. 22:44:59> No way, only five minutes have gone by? That makes no sense! Well, in that case, I guess I’d better just try to make the time pass quicker by training a bit. I wonder, if I knew magic, could I have used it on myself to gain higher divinity resistance? Or would it just not have had any effect on me? Hmm. I almost want to learn magic just to figure out how this works, but I think my brain just isn’t suited for it. Kind of a shame that one of my stat points always falls into the magic power category each level up… I wonder if I can wish that away? Eh. For now, I’ll just do my best to continue. I’ll take it when I get there. I continue training. And then… My hand flies out to poke it but only then do I remember that I experimentally bit off my arm to gain higher bisection resistance. Damn it! I try to poke it with my stump, but by that time, it’s too late. Do you want to enter?> Really? Now? Come on, I literally don’t have any arms! Oh, hey, my arms grew back. Hey, why couldn’t you do this a second earlier so I could poke the message?! I demand a refund! [No] will be chosen for you and the floor may be accessed next attempt.> D—damn it…! Fine, I’ll just check his message once I’m on the floor! How’s that? As usual, the world holds no answer for me. Scowling, I press the yes button and pretend to be surprised when the floor shifts beneath my feet and I’m suddenly standing on a rocky alcove overlooking a stormy sea. Wow, how original, a sea. As if those don’t exist on Earth. What next, are you going to show me rocks? Oh, I see rocks leading out into the ocean! Real original, god of harvest. Or should I call you farmer boy? Yeah, I think that sounds better. Damn hippie. Hell Difficulty Eleventh Floor: The Broken Rocks> <[Clear Condition] Pass over the sharp rocks to reach the small island.> Oh, wow, I need to go over the rocks that lead out to sea. How novel. Let me guess, there’ll be tonnes of sharks, and maybe a sea monster or two. Will there be mermaids? Oh, oh, maybe a siren or two will lure me into the seas! Rolling my eyes, I open up my messages, but before I can even check his message, a song calls out to me from the sea. A beautiful aria. I don’t like music, never really have, but this can’t be called music. It’s beautiful in the same way that the baritone notes of the sea are beautiful, in the humming of a whale, in the song of a seabird. It is music only in the sense that it is a sound that is beautiful to the ears. If this is music, then so is the wind, and the rain, and the rustle of leaves. I head out into the rockies. Moleman’s message can wait. The rocks beneath my bare feet are sharp and I leave behind a trail of blood but that’s alright. The wind pushes and beats me around but I have wind resistance, so I can avoid falling into the humming, trilling waters. The music is all around me. The ocean itself is singing. The further out I go, the more beautiful it is. I’m not walking anymore, I’m simply skipping from rock to rock, caught up in a dance. My heart beats to the rhythm of the waves and I feel my brain slosh around in my head, spinning and circling and up and down and down and up. Eyes look at me from just below the waves, with giggles and laughter following closely after. My dearest audience watches me! The hands of maidens reach out from the sea, clapping and clapping and I bow to them. I can’t see the shore anymore. I turn around and bow to the audience behind me. See, see! With a song as beautiful as yours, how can my strutting dance compare in the slightest? Oh, sing louder, fair nymphs! Let your song reach my very innermost being, and cleanse me through it! Their hands reach up and I take one to kiss it, bowing as I do, but just beneath the waves, beyond the fair hand, I see not a woman, but a beast. Its hide is a deep blue, with a knotted, bumpy surface out of which a dozen human eyes peek. Atop its shark-like skull, a single-lipped mouth opens and closes, singing—singing, so beautifully. The maiden’s hand I hold grasps mine and tugs at me, inviting me into the water. Well, I wasn’t planning on staying, but if you’re so insistent… I join them below the surface for supper. They swarm me and tear me apart with questions and inquiries. “Where did you study?” “Have you ever had a betrothed?” “How is your family?” “Is your father proud of you?” “What do you do in your spare time?” “Do you find your work fulfilling?” “What’s your best memory from your childhood?” L—ladies, ladies, these questions are a bit… Hm? Where’d my arm go? Hey, I need that to open my messages! And now my leg? Where are you going with that, Mary? Lilyanne, I happen to treasure my left hand quite a lot, it’s very important for pressing the WASD buttons, so please—Belle, please, not my other leg! Now I haven’t got anything left! Petunia? You want my—? Well, I suppose… I guess it’s alright if you want my internal organs… But you’d better give them back afterwards, or I’ll be very upset! Hmm… the water is starting to look… awfully… dark…