Only a hero could save the Princess.

Only a hero could triumph over the trials required to win the Princess’s heart.

Unfortunately, the people that climbed the tower were a gunslinging fisticuffs lizard and a sword-wielding scientist with a rock strapped to her back.

The only heart that was going to be taken was the one we were going to tear from her chest.

Lyra and Knight stood shoulder to shoulder, throwing wild swings and flaming punches in tandem. This was a full test of my own abilities; I focused on where the shadows clumped and burnt Ether to create implosions while giving Lyra warnings as the battle progressed.

A flaming uppercut from Knight dispersed a group of three slashing away at him. Then, dropping to a knee, he blasted the crowds away with slugs that shone white as they flew. Lyra covered him as he reloaded, gouging out shadowy necks and bones from bodies.

Before my clairvoyant eyes, I focused and pressed pins into the battlefield; disorienting and hastening movement with twists of my song, erasing wounds and incoming projectiles as fast as my mind allowed. My enemy here was the Princess herself, who boosted the capability of these long-dead shadows; I observed the strongest and crippled them with my strongest winds. And as I manipulated the battle, I had plenty of time to learn.

Knight’s flames were the direct result of Ether manipulation; the energy combusted and took the form of golden flames that clung to his arms. Strangely enough, Lizardman didn’t show up when I looked at him through Ether lenses — he was completely concealed, just like those guardians.

All this time, perhaps I was the one who was careless. If every being in this world knew how to conceal their Ether and how they used it, wouldn’t that mean that I was the only one going around and giving myself away?

If one were to use a card analogy, my hand was already revealed by the time I sat down to play. Cards are only as good as those that they compete against; if my enemies knew when to play and when to fold, I already lost the game.

Knowing what was wrong with my strategy was a good start. Now came the problem of fixing it.

How do you conceal Ether? That’s like trying to cover water with more water; it’s transparency all the way down.

Was it because I was a being that was mainly composed of Ether? The energy I had dubbed ‘Soul’ sustained my consciousness, similar to how the infinitely complex array of neurons and connective tissue in a living creature’s brain can create any personality imaginable.

I recognized the way Ether flowed through Lizardman’s fists. There were gates I couldn’t see within him that created that flame effect; I was absolutely certain of it. I didn’t see anything when I was poking around inside him, so it would be reasonable to assume that these effects were the result of mental exertion. That would also explain my inability to learn from the corpses of the guardians: everything I wanted was stuck inside their heads.

Damn. If I figured this out earlier, I could’ve been tearing rifts through space-time and firing ice blasts from my surface instead of brute-forcing my way with whatever the hell I was doing.

“—Two more!”

The last two shades in the tower were twinned knights wielding silver swords and shields. They raced towards us, empowered by the distant Princess’s song of love.

Lizardman loaded slugs into his blaster and calmly walked forward, blasting away until the knight’s shield broke. Against the other, Lyra’s blade didn’t pierce through their armor completely, so she broke its guard with a wind-boosted upwards swing and half-sworded the tip right into its neck.

And that was the end.

“—See as the Three Knights clear the trial of the past! Today is a special occasion: as the Princess’s heart can only belong to one, their final trial will be… each other!”

The unseen narrator trumped the new trial, and an orchestra began to play a hymn of drums and flutes, as though trying to ramp up the anticipation for our duel against one another.

In response, Knight looked up and flipped the ceiling off. “Fuck off.”

Our party took a break, finding some winding steps to recuperate on. The orchestral strained around us, encouraging us to fight for a maiden’s love. But we had our ways of resisting the mental compulsion, so I could concentrate on restoring my comrade’s conditions.

“Sounds like we’re getting close to the end of all this,” Lyra said. She passed out the remainder of our rations, a single MRE kit and large packets of distilled water. “What the hell were those?”

“A Remnant-class Remnant,” Knight said. “They’re a lower rank type of Husk.”

“Seems kinda redundant.”

“It is. Long story very short, the dead don’t like to stay quiet sometimes.” He shrugged. “I’m not the one who comes up with the rankings.”

These MREs were different from the ones I knew: it only took half a minute for the packets to warm themselves into full meals of meatball spaghetti and steaming garlic sticks that may as well just come from the oven. Even a chocolate cannoli with huge chunks of chocolate dripping out the side.

It made me a little jealous, not being able to smell or eat, but I kept quiet. No point in ruining a quick meal with my complaining.

As Lyra split the meal between plates, she looked at Knight inquisitively and asked, “What’s behind that gas mask of yours? I haven’t seen you anywhere without it.”

He took his share and turned away from Lyra. “A face. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fine with people seeing it. But it’s bad luck to let people see your face during a run.”

There was a clasp that exposed his muzzle and teeth to the air. He didn’t waste any time scarfing food down.

“Bad luck? Got a story behind that?”

“Plenty. None that you’d want to hear while eating.”

Lyra cocked her head. “Try me.”

“Me and a team I used to run with went up against a Husk that stole faces,” Knight said. “The Changing Visage, they called it. Basically stole other people’s faces and their identities. One day, it got loose in an urban center and went berserk for some reason. Big ol’ monster covered in a lot of faces. Gas leaks and lots of chemicals around. Anyway, when we confronted it, some rookie’s mask got covered in gunk and he took it off, thinking he could keep fighting. Not even ten seconds later, Husk got ‘em. Tore his face and eyes right off, peeled them back like fucking string cheese.”

“Shit,” Lyra muttered. I have to give her credit; she kept eating after hearing that.

“Happy ending: the kid lived. Medics got to him fast enough. Got retirement pay at 26 and now has a shiny new silicone face.”

“Where is he now?”

“Turned into a microcelebrity in the civilian world, last I heard. Singer for a small pop band.”

“Hah. Can’t say I expected that coming.”

Above us, the Princess continued to weep. It was an innocent noise, the simple cries of a girl that wished to be saved from the tower she was trapped within, a haunting sob that resonated within the tower of the damned. It was the last sound that remained as we made our final preparations.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Was this really the last obstacle that prevented our escape? Lizardman failed against her once; I didn’t really know what to expect as we ascended up the tower at our own pace

Was I missing something?

“We have to kill that monster of a Princess as fast as possible,” he said, walking up the last set of stairs, “I’m low on shots. Don’t have my Shielder anymore, though the drone will be able to augment our defenses.”

“I think we’ll be able to make it,” Lyra said. She reached back and knocked on my surface. “See anything stopping us?”

I scanned ahead. Nothing. Be careful, Lyra.

“I will. This time, I won’t falter.”

Knight lifted a gloved finger to his mask, asking for silence. We complied.

Rails that graced the last few steps allowed us enough cover to hide and observe. Knight braced his gun against a twisted bar, scanning the scene through his dotted iron sights.

In every direction, pillars of obsidian reached into a ceiling of white mist.

In the center of the opulent hall, a gently weeping woman veiled in grey on a pile of pure white cushions.

Surrounding us was a song of tears, the sound of a broken heart.

The final obstacle in our path was a single woman. Silky grey hair-like mist wrapped around her shoulders and waist, emphasizing her body and elegant dress.

Lizardman aimed, counted to three, then shot her dead.

She fell to the floor, sprawled out in shredded cloth. But that wasn’t enough to stop her cries.

“It was worth a shot,” Knight said, cheerfully.

There was a brief moment of silence. Then, an agonized cry echoed in the halls around us:

“My hero, won’t you save me?”

Another veiled Princess stepped out from behind a pillar near the corpse. She reached towards us with pleading hands, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks. Lizardman pulled the trigger again and turned her head into a pile of meat.

“—Where is my knight in shining armor? Where is the one that will set me free?”

Another came, behind us this time. He fired again and took a chunk out of the pillar above the new Princess.

Lizardman struggled to aim his next shot. The gun grew heavy in his hands; he was rooted to the spot for some reason.

“Not again,” he muttered, “I won’t. There’s nothing special about you.”

Underneath his gas mask, he was gnawing at his tongue and cheek with serrated teeth. When I sensed Ether-infused blood trickling into his mouth and heard the pained grunts, I understood.

The Princess was directly attacking Knight’s mind, forcing him to become her beloved knight in shining armor. One hundred fifty-five came before him and one hundred fifty-five fell at her hands; he’d become another pawn in her arsenal if we didn’t figure out a way out of here.

She approached us, long trails of elegantly woven grey silk fluttering off her body and arms. All she wished to do was embrace her saviour, to reward him for a lifetime of hard work. To give her body and soul to a brave warrior who was strong enough to claim her heart.

Lyra vaulted over the railing with her blade at the ready, clad in broken armor. Behind her fractured glasses, her irises shimmered with emerald bands of resolve.

“I’m right here,” she said. “I’ll set you free from everything, Princess.”

Knight regained enough control to aim and pull the trigger. The slug took off her left arm with a sucking squelch. Black blood flew and stained the pillars, the floor, and the ceiling. This time, the wound gave her pause — the Princess looked directly at us and frowned.

“Why don’t you recognize me, hero? Why won’t you save me? I want to be saved.”

Her voice was wavering and pained, a sob of genuine hurt.

An emerald edge severed her head.

“I’m so lonely,” said another Princess.

“Why won’t anybody accept me for who I am?” said another Princess.

“Why won’t anybody realize what my tender heart yearns for?” said another Princess.

Knight blasted the first two. When he ran out of bullets, he simply hurled the gun and impaled the last Princess through the chest. Two more emerged, only to be completely sliced apart by Lyra’s unerring blade.

The impaled Princess collapsed, propped up by the barrel of the shotgun sticking through her chest. But not even that quelled her endless sorrow.

“No… My story has yet to begin… it can’t end like this.”

The bodies around us reached for the skies, crying out for assistance, for salvation that they would never reach.

“Love me. Save me. Cherish me. Adore me.”

A scene all too familiar to me.

“Worship me. Give me your everything.”

Wanting to be saved. Wanting to run away. Trapped in a dark tower with no escape, a prison for the body and soul.

I knew that all too well.

Only this time, something replied to these feeble cries.

A creature of grey silk and red eyes gently descended from the mist. It had the lower half of a human face and a jellyfish-like crown obscuring where her eyes should be; cloth tendrils that emerged from her back and arms writhed and strained, seeking the nearest source of warmth.

Red dots suspended in inky black served as her eyes, and all one hundred fifty-five located across her eldritch body locked directly onto us. Music began to leak from the mouths of corpses, a song of love and madness.

Knight replied by pointing up and igniting his fists. Lyra raised her blade.

The onslaught began with cutting cloth tendrils, numbering over two dozen. They cut through pillars and stone like sharp knives through flesh; Knight and Lyra barely dodged and parried out of the way with the help of my wind.

The illusion was gone, revealing the ugly truth behind the Princess. For that transgression, the Husk didn’t hold back.

Against a cascade of endless striking cloth tendrils and beams of corrupting red light, of puppets controlled by red strings and burning song, Knight and Lyra brawled for their lives.

Lizardman went in for a charging punch, but a mere flick of her sleeve was enough to fling us backwards. A brush of my own wind corrected his path and let him land on his feet instead of getting his backbone crushed by smashing into one of the many obsidian pillars littered around this cursed hall. Lyra pursued the opening, slashing her way inwards — only to greet too many cloth tendrils. As powerful as her blade was, she couldn’t compete against a force like this; I pulled her out of the way just in time, healing her wounds as fast as I could.

My wind shroud helped both survive, but it wouldn’t be enough to win. A monster of this calibre couldn’t get exhausted — our side would succumb to attrition first.

Knight and Lyra were still humans, despite their powers. They couldn’t fight forever.

“You’re a real mad bitch!” Knight screamed, kicking off a pillar to dodge a cleaving fabric strike. “Get mad. Get mad! I’ll kill you soon enough!”

“An opening!” Lyra hollered, gritting her bloodied teeth. “Stay calm and keep going!”

“I’m already doing as much as I can!”

I was already healing their wounds and boosting their movements — there was way too much chaos to rely on any of my usual techniques. Against this monster, the plasma gates I worked so hard to manufacture and memorize were useless.

Too many physical targets. Too much sorcery, too many blatant violations of physics. I ran interference against some of the oncoming attacks, but a bucket can only scoop so much water out of a sinking ship.

So many years ago, this creature was one of the stars that I had admired from the depths of darkness. This was the very creature that the guardians fought against, the threat to their world which they sacrificed everything for. No wonder they failed for so many years; it would be impossible to fight a creature like this as mere animals, even if they had one or two tricks.

But I had to fight. I had to pull out all the stops — if I wanted to surpass this trial, I had to utilize everything and more.

I reached into Samson’s knowledge, unlocking his Arts. I couldn’t hesitate, no matter how painful it would become.

The technique of Cognesis. Forging a connection would be easy; I’d just have to get close and invade her mind by throwing Ether at her. The rest would be up to me.

An attack on the psyche and the soul. The ability to rewrite and erode from the inside. These sorts of abilities existed in Samson’s time, the domain of government secrecy and lost sects of wizardry. Samson used it often, deftly navigating other people’s minds during brawls as sabotage.

Would it work against a monster like this one? I had no idea.

That Art was well and alive by the time I woke up. After all, three of the guardians launched their own offensive after I beat them physically. Now that I looked back, I didn’t think it was meant for me; they could’ve been waiting to take on this monster themselves.

So rejoice, my fallen comrades and hated enemies. All of you put me here, so bear with the results.

Get me closer. I can debilitate its mind with one of my techniques.

“What?” said Lyra. “Right now?”

This is the only way ahead. Trust me.

This wouldn’t win the battle by itself. In the grand scheme of things, it was no better than a simple feint to land a cheap shot — but these two needed every bit of help he could get.

Of course, Samson didn’t leave me any further instruction on how to do such a miraculous feat. But I was a self-made rock. Give me a push and I’ll roll all the way down to the abyss.

The three guardians managed to infiltrate my core and nearly consume me by allowing me to take in their Ether. I didn’t see a reason not to abuse that, especially when we were fighting a monster that had long abandoned its humanity.

I had already dedicated myself to the way of knowledge. This was only the next logical step on that journey; to learn how to study my enemies.

Lyra cut her way in, leaping upwards. She got close enough for me to condense my Ether and fire a spear at the Princess’s core. It landed without incident, an invisible strike that had no noticeable effect on the ongoing battle.

It was because it had no effect that Lyra was struck down.

As she fell, a cloth tendril impaled her through the thigh. More came, binding her in mid-air.

“Lyra!” Knight screamed. “Goddamnit — I need you!” He tried to get in closer, but he had his own battle to fight.

The tendrils squeezed, causing Lyra’s armor to slowly buckle. One of her hands was clinging onto my rocky surface, a silent gesture of trust.

Stay alive. I won’t let this end here, I told her. The connection was established; I could peer into what lay at the very center of the Princess’s world.

Just like me, she had an inner world of her own. A dark, murky black hole that no light could escape from, an all-consuming portal to somewhere dark and damp.

All or nothing.

Without hesitation, I threw myself into the Princess's heart, intent on bearing witness to the shadows of her heart.

It was time to walk into another person’s hell.