An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as Orion and the asura silently trailed behind the eldritch knight. Each champion held their own muted opinions on what they had witnessed, yet both refrained from voicing their thoughts. Meanwhile, the reddish hue of Scott’s hair gradually receded as they walked, vanishing completely less than thirty minutes later. In silence, the trio arrived at their destination, where, as usual, Nex greeted them with individual illusions.
“Welcome back,” Nex declared with brisk cheerfulness. “You completed the 11th floor faster than I expected; you were just a couple of hours shy of breaking the record set by the Celestial Blades. How amazing would that have been?” The examiner sighed from his concealed location.
Scott's eyebrows shot up as soon as the examiner mentioned the famous faction. It didn’t surprise him they had such a record, given that they were essentially utilizing memories from previous timelines to their advantage.
“Can I ask my questions, or will you be going first?” Scott suddenly interjected.
“Oh, straight to the point,” Nex chuckled. “You can go ahead. My explanations can come later. So, what do you want to know?”
“The core elemental shards. What purpose do they serve?” Scott inquired swiftly.
“There’s no clear answer, sadly. Depending on the user, they could serve as an elixir, a poison, or a useless lump of jewelry. Unfortunately, it’s not within my prerogative to explain their purposes to you,” Nex explained. “I’m sure someone as resourceful as yourself would figure something out. Are you done?” Nex asked.
“During the last trial, the path to the previous island was cut off as soon as we moved islands. How was it possible for the Sons of Jörmungandr to descend?” Scott queried. The question had plagued his mind since the flaming man descended, but due to the intensity of the subsequent battles, he couldn’t bring up the topic.
Nex's gentle laughter echoed within the area, and the examiner began, “While arduous, it isn’t an impossible task. I’m certain your mage friend would be able to pull it off too if given enough time,” the examiner explained.
“It's my turn now,” Nex muttered softly. “The twelfth and thirteenth floors typically feature two types of games: one that pushes a champion to their limits and another that helps them become comfortable. There's no strict order for these games, but it's crucial for champions to seek alliances if possible. Why? I can't say,” Nex explained. “Another thing, unlike the previous game, one among the 12th and 13th floors will offer a chance to improve your rank.” Nex paused, allowing Scott to digest the information.
“Can I ask a question?” Scott asked.
“Please, go ahead,” Nex urged from his concealed location.
Scott wasted no time. “Are there any consequences for champions who traverse between different floors?”
Silence followed Scott’s question, broken only by the examiner clearing his throat before responding, “That's an interesting question. Technically, there are no punishments for moving between floors. However, I wouldn't advise champions to do so. It undermines the purpose of the games. No one would go all-out if there were an easy way out. I hope you won't take that route, will you?”
Scott raised his head, gazing at the mirror at the far end of the room. “I'll do whatever I deem necessary,” he declared.
Scott believed the examiner must have noticed his visits to the calming woods and the slime party to see Llorva and Fi-Fi. Meanwhile, Nex giggled softly but didn’t dwell on the matter. “Will you proceed to the next game, or will you remain here?”
“Before I decide, what would happen if I were aware of places or rules I shouldn't know about?” Scott countered with his own question.
“Nothing,” Nex stated matter-of-factly. “I'll ignore it; after all, you're not supposed to know yet. Whatever you choose to do with that information is up to you. I don’t know what kind of thoughts you have about the ranking games, but we aren’t overly strict. We encourage champions to be resourceful and ingenious. So, what's your decision?”
Scott pondered for a moment before declaring, “Prepare the path to the 12th floor.” The eldritch knight turned to his companions. “Are you finished with them?”
“I'm done with the asura, but your mage friend is quite inquisitive. It might take a while to answer his questions,” Nex admitted.
Scott chuckled softly, sensing the examiner's exhaustion. “Let me know when you're done with him. I'm in no hurry.”
“Thank you. I'll do that,” Nex declared, and the examiner's voice ceased. However, the illusion remained intact.
Scott lowered his head, a frown plastered across his face as he recalled the incident from the passage. Now that I think about it, it’s not absurd that Zara joined the blood cult, he thought, recalling that bloodlust was Zara’s primary energy source. Coupled with the fact that she had a blood bank, she was an obvious recruit for a group who centered around blood related abilities.
This might work in my favor. With Zara in the blood cult, I have a connection to them again in this timeline. The only problem is whether it’s still the same cult from the memories of the variant, Scott pondered.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Amidst Scott’s wandering thoughts, Nex’s voice echoed again. “Sorry for the delay; the path to the 12th floor will soon reveal itself. I wish you good luck,” the examiner announced. The area morphed slightly, as if a veil had been lifted. Several tiles turned red, and another exit formed. Robotically, the champions turned toward the exit, instinctively moving. Barely ten seconds after Nex’s announcement, the area was empty.
Meanwhile, within the well-illuminated passage, Scott, Orion, and the asura walked side by side at a measured pace. The mage broke the silence with a giggle before posing a question. “So, what do you suspect the next game will entail?” he asked, turning his head side to side as he awaited Scott and the asura’s responses.
“I would rather take part in the game that pushes one to their limits first,” the leftmost head declared.
“No. That’s the wrong order,” the rightmost head interjected. “We should hope for the comfortable one first, so that we can be ready for the next one,” it explained.
“Nonsense,” the leftmost head retorted, glaring at its counterpart. “You should work hard first before relaxing, not relaxing before working hard.”
“I disagree,” the rightmost head declared, adamant that its choice was the right one. However, the leftmost head had no intentions of conceding either.
Orion giggled, then turned his attention toward Scott. “What about you? Which do you propose is the right order?” he asked.
“To be honest, I really don’t care,” Scott said without looking at the mage. “It doesn’t matter which order is right or wrong. After all, we’re going to get through both regardless of our individual preferences.”
“Boo. Boo. You’re no fun,” Orion commented. “We all know that, but it’s only fun when there is some semblance of an expectation. For argument’s sake, which would you prefer?” the mage asked.
Scott pressed on, pretending he didn’t hear the mage’s question. To him, it didn’t matter which came first; all he wanted was to reach the 15th floor, the neutral ground, as soon as possible. Orion continued to press Scott for an answer, using different analogies and even resorting to pleading tactics, but Scott simply ignored the data-obsessed mage. Meanwhile, the rightmost and leftmost heads continued to air their opinions, making for an animated trip.
A few minutes later, Orion, accepting that Scott wouldn’t speak on the matter, changed the topic. “By the way, how were you able to drag so many people’s consciousness into that space?” he muttered, unable to hide his curiosity. “That was the first time in a long time someone successfully invaded my consciousness without triggering any of my securities.” He turned toward Scott, staring intently at the eldritch knight. “Another thing, I’m certain you’re the one who bestowed upon me the imprint of madness, but I can’t for the life of me deduce how you did it. I’m partially certain it’s the reason you were able to pull me into that space, isn’t that right?”
Scott raised his right hand, pointing straight ahead. “We’re close,” he said.
Simultaneously, Orion and the arguing heads turned toward the towering door over two hundred feet from their current position.
“I guess there’s no need speculating anymore.” Orion sighed; his disappointment momentarily eclipsed by a quick smile. With measured steps, the trio approached the wooden door, lacking any form of decorative adornments.
“Do you hear that?” Orion muttered, narrowing his gaze as they drew closer to the door. Scott's ears twitched involuntarily as he too focused his attention. Delicate tremors traversed beneath their feet, accompanied by guitar rhythms and drumbeats subtly echoing in the background. An electronic, pulsating beat followed suit, stirring an unsatiated urge to revel within the trio.
Why does it sound like there's a massive party behind that door? Scott pondered; his thoughts echoed by the others. Though faint, muffled screams of excitement could be discerned beneath the electrifying beats.
“It seems we're headed to some sort of party,” Orion remarked.
The rightmost head burst into laughter. “I told you I was right!” it exclaimed, wearing a smug grin directed at the leftmost head.
“We don't know that yet,” the leftmost head retorted. “It might sound like a party, but this place could hold surprises. Remember where we are.” It emphasized. However, the rightmost head merely laughed harder, making silly faces at its counterpart.
A few minutes later, the trio stood before the door, the music now louder, accompanied by audible screams and cheers emanating from behind it.
“I must admit, I'm a bit disappointed if this is supposed to be the 'comfortable floor.' Oh well, might as well enjoy the stay,” Orion muttered.
Without further ado, the mage placed his hand on the door, which swung open effortlessly. Neither Orion nor Scott, nor the asura, paid attention to the seemingly sentient door, their focus drawn to the beautiful red carpet ahead. Flanking either side were sharply dressed one-eyed gargoyles, who bowed as they ushered the stunned champions inside.
“See?” the rightmost head exclaimed, reveling in being right. This time, the leftmost head merely pouted, muttering curses under its breath.
Simultaneously stepping onto the red carpet, the champions watched as the doorway vanished in a flash. Meanwhile, the champions focused on the gargoyles who motionless bowed like wax figures despite their vitality.
“Hello, can I ask you a question?” Orion inquired with a smile as he approached one of the gargoyles.
Instantly, the creature turned to stone, leaving the champions bewildered. However, the remaining gargoyles showed no reaction.
Orion furrowed his brows, readjusting his glasses. Turning to the next gargoyle, he began, “Hello, can I ask—?” but halted midway as the creature also turned to stone.
A wicked smile graced Orion's lips as he surveyed the gargoyles. As his staff left the ground, Scott's voice intervened, “Let's not cause any trouble. They won't talk no matter what you do.”
Orion turned towards him, his smile widening. “I know that,” he said. “I just want to see if I can return them to normal. Wouldn't that be exciting?” he added.
Scott sighed, shaking his head, and moved forward. “Do as you like. I won't wait for you,” he declared.
The asura paused, glancing at the mage before striding forward. Orion's smile vanished as he watched his companions depart, his focus shifting to the gargoyles, each one a potential source of valuable information.
Moments later, the mage sighed, then hurried to catch up with his companion. As Orion left, the petrified creatures resumed their original forms. Suppressing his curiosity once more, Orion followed silently behind Scott and the asura.
The trio proceeded down a silent corridor devoid of adornment except for gemstones embedded in the walls, providing illumination. The pristine carpet bore no traces of footprints or dust, suggesting they were the first to traverse it.
I've been feeling uneasy since we entered, Scott mused silently, the weight of his mask seeming to increase. It's like the Warhammer can't wait to be unleashed. Frowning, he gazed ahead, spotting another imposing door at the hallway's end. He couldn't help but wonder about the festivities behind the luxuriantly padded doors.
Approaching the padded door, a gargoyle stirred, assuming an upright position before stepping forward. Before the champions could comprehend the situation, a melodious voice echoed, “Welcome to the theatre. Here, there's only one rule: Fight: you stop, you die!”