The group of Daemoniums (plus a Sanguisa and an Absconditus assassin) exited the invisible maze of the 35th floor and entered the 36th floor. The 36th floor was covered in snow, with a ground so icy that even a scalding pot of boiling water would freeze on impact.
When Fake Daemonium stepped onto the snow the fox was completely fine. Kitsune often had to survive harsh winters, so an environment like this was perfectly fine to this fox. The same was true for the unnamed golem Daemonium that really needs to get a name already, because zhis body was made of rocks, and rocks didn't really freeze like that.
Green Daemonium meanwhile became a popsicle as soon as it stepped inside the room.
Our assassin didn't let the cold stop him though. Immediately recognizing the dangerous temperature, he quickly ran around the snow-covered floor and shot fireballs into the ground. All that the average eye would have been able to see was a blur before the snow around them sublimated and instantly became steam. The key exposed itself in the middle of the ground, previously having been covered in a sheet of snow.
"Amazing," Daemonium said, him and Dead Daemonium in awe of what they just witnessed. "He's strong enough to become a god one day."
"I guess." Sanguisa was less enthusiastic. After all, she had seen these sorts of impressive physical feats about 36 times in a row now. "Where did he learn to be so fast though? It's difficult to get this good on your own."
"Were you not listening to his story? After Bob's parents died he went to train with some of the greatest warriors and martial artists known to man. Thanks to them he's trained his body to peak physical condition."
Forgot the dude was still calling himself that. And his story is sounding even more familiar.
The group went up to the 37th floor, a floor with was covered in a shiny black texture. The key dangled on a string in the center and appeared to be in a perfect position to take. One shouldn't be fooled by its simplicity however, as Green Daemonium figured out as soon as it stepped onto ground. Its body was instantly flooded with electricity, to the point that if it were completely slime instead of half mimic it probably would have exploded into a hundred bits. It still hurt, but not to the point in which a content warning would have to be added.
Absconditus didn't waver however, leaping through the air and dangling off the tiny string holding the key in the air. He snapped the key off the string, throwing it straight into the exit door's keyhole and opening it instantly. And before the other Daemoniums and Sanguisa could risk their lives he leapt over to them and threw them right into the door. One by one they went straight into the door, before the assassin jumped through himself.
Daemonium was in awe, thinking such physical prowess was the result of harsh training in order to deliver justice. It was indeed the result of impressive physical training, but the reason behind it was far different than what he told them. It wasn't truly for justice, or money, or fame, and he didn't even have a choice in the matter. It wasn't the greatest period for him to think about, but it was important to what made him the assassin he was today.
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When Absconditus regained consciousness, he couldn't see.
There seemed to be a blindfold over his eyes, so tight that he could feel the cloth dig into his eye sockets. It was slightly difficult to breath, with another cloth pressing down onto his lips. His arms were tied behind his back, the four spider limbs tied to his front, and his legs seemed to be tied together as he was forced to sit down. He could feel the ground below him bounce and hop about erratically, as if he were inside some sort of moving vehicle.
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No drop of light was able to befall his eyes, and there was nothing to touch except the wooden texture of whatever he was riding in bumping him up and down. It was impossible to tell how much time passed, Absconditus tried to count but without access to his voice or fingers he would often speed up or slow down by accident. He eventually stopped altogether when the number was around the 230s or 240s, unable to remember where he was.
Slowly but surely memories of what had happened before had snuck up on him, and more and more did he want to cry. Was he dead? Was this some eternal punishment for treating his parents that way? Were his parents really dead? What about his sister? He tried to deny the answers that came to his head but couldn't escape the truth any longer. No one, not even his parents, would be able to pull off a farce like this, it all had to be real. The only thing he didn't know was why it had to be him.
The answer seemed to reveal itself when the vehicle he was in seemed to come to a halt. He could hear footsteps and the sound of a door unlocking before the cloth was lifted from over his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone. He could see many of his friends and neighbors, all of which creepers that were his age or younger, tied up and gagged like he seemed to be. The second thing he noticed was the person that removed the cloth from his eyes. It was the same person that knocked him out before, a short human-looking guy barely over two feet tall with round eyes and pointy ears. The panic he was in previously made him forget, but at that moment Absconditus immediately recognized what sort of creature he was looking at. This was an elf.
Physically, these aren't your tall and fair Tolkien-esque elves of most standard fantasy stories, instead looking more like Santa's elves if anything. Behaviorally they do share some similarities to their more common counterparts however, being forest dwellers and intensely spiritual. This race of light-being had a bit of a reputation of being the most hostile to shadow-people, creepers being one of them. Absconditus would often hear adults around him talking about how nearby towns were attacked by radical groups of elves or express their fear of elves abducting their children, but he never thought much of it until now.
He tried to scream, but the gag on his mouth muffled the sound. He tried to crawl away and get out but tripped right on his face thanks to his tied-up legs. The elf scoffed at him, grabbed the chains holding his arms together and dragged him out of what was apparently a carriage and into some building carved into a tree.
Elves prided themselves for always being in tune with nature, so instead of chopping down a tree to make a building they'd rather turn the tree into the building. The building looked like an average house, only with everything being made of wood.
Chairs? Wood! That's perfectly normal after all.
Beds and pillows? Wood! Sound uncomfortable, but whatever works for them.
Stovetops? Wood! Clearly the elves don't know what a safety hazard is.
The boy was dragged to a trapdoor beside the wooden couch, which led to some downwards stairs. With a tug by the elf the boy was dragged down, half afraid that he'd fall down because of the force. When the stairs ended, Absconditus saw rows upon rows of cages, each holding a single shadow-person with various races among them. He could see a demon in one cage and a succubus in another. There was a vampire in one cage and a minotaur in another. But by far, the most common species trapped in the cages was the creeper. Many looked so thin it looked like they could be snapped in half easier than a stick. Some had their spider limbs cut off, some had rough bandages on one or both eyes, and some smelt like rotting corpses (those ones also appeared to not be breathing, which didn't make things better in his eyes).
Like he feared, Absconditus was shoved into a cage and locked up, before the elf left to retrieve the other creepers. And that was where he stayed for five months.