Kael let himself slide down against the wall.
Sitting. Alone.
His clothes were nothing but blood-stuck rags clinging to his skin.
Every breath that left his lips carried a suffocating thirst for blood.
The Rest Chamber… no longer had anything of a haven.
It was a cage.
And he was the predator trapped inside.
The Conquerors had grouped up on the opposite side.
Nobody dared come close.
Some looked away.
Others stared fixedly at his blood-covered hands,
as if they might still rise against them at any moment.
A heavy silence crushed the room.
Every beat of his heart echoed in his chest like a muffled thunderclap.
No sound.
No word.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Applause cracked through the chamber.
A rain of pale sparks split the air.
Then the System’s light tore reality open.
“Congratulations to the survivors.”
The voice cut through the room, clean and sharp.
“I am not the Guide.”
He inclined his head slightly—
not an apology, just a clarification.
“I work for him. I am replacing him while he is occupied.
Nothing fundamental will change.”
He took a step forward.
Tension slackened just a little,
but no one lowered their guard.
The Guide’s replacement appeared.
He was smiling.
A cold smile.
Dry.
Mocking.
Ironic.
— Well, well, well…
Looks like we have our survivors.
His voice bounced along the walls.
Falsely warm.
Truly empty.
He swept his gaze over the group.
Slowly.
Like someone evaluating animals after the slaughter.
— I congratulate you.
Even if, for some of you,
the opponent you faced wasn’t worth much…
a victory is still a victory.
So… congratulations.
A murmur rose.
Impossible to hold back.
Annoyance.
Anger.
Contempt.
But also…
A thin thread of resolve.
Fragile.
The substitute stopped.
Amused.
His smile widened.
Every reaction seemed to entertain him.
As if all of this had been a play mounted purely for his own enjoyment.
The air felt heavy.
Kael, sitting apart, could feel the gazes converge on him.
More strongly than on anyone else.
He could read it in their eyes.
Fear.
Bare.
Without any mask.
The image they had of him —
half naked, soaked in blood,
the aura of his previous battle still clinging to his skin —
was more than enough.
— Yes. You can see it for yourselves.
When I say some of you did not have the same kind of opponent…
His chin tilted toward Kael.
— You can see it in the state of the winner.
In his injuries.
From there you can deduce the technique used.
The strength involved.
The size of the target.
Its weight as well.
Things you will, I hope, learn as time goes on.
Several of them stepped back.
Unconsciously.
As if putting a bit more distance between them and Kael
might change something.
No one dared approach.
Silence fell again.
Heavy.
Oppressive.
— Well then. Time to heal you.
Or rather… to restore you to your previous state, to be precise.
And to repair your equipment as well.
A short gesture.
A wave of energy swept through the chamber.
Wounds closed.
Fabrics re-wove themselves.
Metal refitted and locked into place.
The silence remained,
only punctuated by the soft noises of armor and cloth settling back into shape.
The Guide’s replacement spoke again, his deep voice filling the space:
— You’ve crossed the first consolidation threshold.
Your progression deserves to be noted…
but don’t be mistaken.
His dark eyes scanned the assembly,
as if dissecting each one of them.
— The eighth floor will remind you of a simple truth:
it is not your raw power that makes you survive…
but your ability to adapt.
His gaze sharpened.
— Never forget: the Tower does not reward the strong.
It rewards those who change.
A cold smile brushed his lips.
— Prepare yourselves.
A new fracture opened in the air.
A black wound cut through the white of the Rest Chamber.
A System window appeared.
? [ Transfer – 8th Floor ] ?
→ Activation in 60 seconds.
The survivors tensed.
Some checked their weapons in a hurry.
Others whispered prayers.
An anxious silence settled.
Kael remained still.
His frozen eyes were already fixed on the rift that was starting to open.
His group positioned themselves behind him without a word.
Then the floor shook.
The light twisted.
The Rest Chamber dissolved in a blinding flash.
When the brightness faded, they were somewhere else.
The eighth floor had just opened.
Kael stepped forward.
The others followed.
He crossed the threshold.
On the other side, an immense temple stretched out as far as the eye could see.
Smooth marble.
Tall, imposing pillars.
Columns of gold.
Chests lined up like a silent army.
Jewels, weapons and glittering ornaments rested on altars.
The air itself felt heavy, saturated with shine.
Too perfect.
Too tempting.
Kael frowned.
One of the Conquerors, a few steps away, didn’t hesitate.
His hand reached for a ruby-encrusted chalice.
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A black breath burst out.
The chalice.
The gold.
His fingers.
Everything turned to ash in a single instant.
A strangled scream echoed.
The rest of his body collapsed, carbonized.
Silence fell back even heavier.
Kael froze.
His gaze slid from treasure to treasure.
Everything crumbled…
except a few chests.
Rare.
Intact.
They seemed… to be waiting.
How does this work…?
He was already trying to read the pattern.
The hidden rule behind this sparkling trap.
Then a sharp, metallic sound rang in his ears.
Dry.
Annoying.
Like a broken bell.
System windows appeared, clear, implacable:
[ Main Objective completed ]
[ Secondary Objective completed ]
Kael went still.
He narrowed his eyes.
— What…?
He hadn’t touched anything.
No chest.
No relic.
And yet the validation dropped.
Automatic.
Definitive.
As if the Tower had just confirmed something…
…that he hadn’t yet understood himself.
A murmur ran through the survivors.
They looked at each other, lost.
Some turned pale.
Others instinctively shifted, glancing in Kael’s direction.
He stayed silent, brows furrowed, heart pounding.
Two heavy pulses were already beating inside him.
Two foreign hearts, fused with his soul.
The Tower had recognized them.
A rain of pale sparks cut the air again.
A silhouette emerged, wrapped in a dark mantle.
It wasn’t the Guide.
But his shadow.
His stand-in.
An amused, almost ironic smile curved his lips.
His voice rang out, cold and clear:
— Congratulations, future Conqueror.
— Your first and second objectives are complete.
— You have already cleared this floor.
A brutal silence followed.
Then whispers exploded:
— How…?
— That’s impossible…
Even Gravyor, usually quick to laugh or complain,
found nothing to say.
He only stared at Kael, eyes wide, jaw clenched.
Veda’s hands were pressed tight against her chest.
Her eyes trembled between terror and admiration.
Kiyoshi was frozen in front of the System window.
His lips moved silently,
prayers stuck in his throat,
as if he had just witnessed heresy.
— May I ask a question before we continue? said Kael.
— Yes. Go ahead.
With the time you’ve saved, don’t hold back, the stand-in answered.
— How is it possible that I validated both objectives?
I didn’t do anything.
I didn’t touch anything.
I’m lost.
I don’t understand what’s really going on.
The being inclined his head slightly, amused.
— Mmmh… let’s see that more closely.
His fingers brushed the air,
as if flipping through invisible pages.
— Floor records… let’s see… mmmh… yes… here… and here…
He snapped his fingers.
— Ah. Found it.
His gaze rested on Kael, shining with a cruel irony.
— Future Conqueror Kael… I understand why you didn’t know.
You do indeed have two Relics.
But they are no longer objects.
They have fused with your soul.
They have become two distinct hearts.
Kael clenched his fists.
— The first heart…
you received it on the third floor.
While you were unconscious, someone literally grafted it into you.
A brief silence.
As if each word weighed more than the last.
— The second one… you absorbed on the previous floor.
Your Double possessed one as well.
By devouring him, you took his Relic with him.
The substitute let a cold smile float on his lips.
— There you have it. Two hearts. Two Relics.
And therefore… two objectives validated.
He gave a slight shrug.
— I hope that answer is enough for you.
He went on, implacable:
— But, for the validation to be complete…
we must reveal the true meaning of the Floors.
A brutal silence.
All gazes turned automatically toward Kael.
The substitute let his ironic smile linger for a heartbeat longer,
then added, more quietly:
— …Unless, of course, you would rather leave this floor with an incomplete victory.
A strange light flickered in his eyes.
— Only if you truly wish to clear this floor perfectly.
Kael reacted, stunned:
— You’re not afraid that everyone will hear the content of the hidden objective, talking this loudly?
The substitute gave a small, amused smile.
— Of course not.
He swept the room with his eyes,
those cold pupils hooking each Conqueror in turn.
— We are in a closed zone.
No one can leave.
No one can transmit anything.
He crossed his arms, implacable.
— And after the trial, all memories outside can be altered…
or erased if necessary.
Simple. Definitive.
He sighed.
Kael’s golden eyes glowed in the dim light,
like two embers refusing to go out.
Then, in a hoarse voice, heavy with fatigue and certainty, he began:
— Lust… that one I understood quickly.
Evelyne embodied it too well for it to be anything else.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Kael stopped speaking for a second.
His gaze slid toward Veda.
She stiffened immediately, her shoulders tensing,
as if that single word had branded her.
Her fingers locked against her chest,
betraying a discomfort she tried and failed to hide.
— Wrath, same thing.
Mimas was the perfect image, I don’t need to explain it.
So I could already assume we were dealing with the Seven Deadly Sins,
similar to the ones from my world —
or, given the number of floors announced for the Tutorial,
maybe something close to Dante’s Circles of Hell.
His words fell like a blade.
No one answered.
A listening silence settled.
Thick.
Almost suffocating.
The Conquerors kept their eyes on him.
Some held their breath.
Others tensed at the memory of their own trials.
Even Gravyor, normally the first to defuse tension with a comment or a laugh,
remained silent, jaw tight.
Not a sound.
Every breath felt too loud.
Every movement, out of place.
All of them were waiting for the rest.
Eyes fixed on Kael,
as if the next word might crack the fragile balance of the room.
Even the air felt suspended,
stretched between his lips and their ears.
— But… the third one, I had doubts.
His voice dropped lower.
He lifted his eyes toward the ceiling,
as if a distant scene was playing again in his mind.
A flash crossed his gaze,
a mix of disgust and certainty.
— At first, I hesitated.
I thought it was another sin…
He paused briefly,
time enough to let the memory settle.
— But no. With that banquet…
that endless orgy of food and pleasures…
it could only be Gluttony.
A shiver ran through the survivors.
Some swallowed with difficulty.
Others looked away,
disgusted by the memory of that excess.
The reasoning itself left no gap.
A few more shivers passed through the group.
Kael went on, faster now,
as if the pieces were clicking into place as he spoke:
— Next… I wanted to say Pride.
But the floor right before this one…
His jaw tightened.
A dry crack echoed in the silence.
He ground his teeth, his eyes hardening.
— No. It didn’t match.
His voice turned glacial:
— So… it had to be Envy.
The reflections.
Those doubles that wanted to devour us, to replace us…
That’s what it was. Envy.
Around him, some Conquerors went pale.
The memory of those voracious mirrors resurfaced,
their throats tightening with the fear they’d felt back then.
He let out a short, joyless laugh.
A hollow sound, without warmth,
that made several of them shudder.
— Sloth…
Narcisse almost handed me that one herself.
Settling in the labyrinth instead of looking for the exit?
Playing queen surrounded by lackeys?
The goal was clearly to keep us prisoners for eternity.
So yes… my instinct says Sloth.
His words fell like a verdict.
He fell silent for a moment.
The silence became suffocating,
heavier than ever.
Every breath felt forbidden.
Every movement, too noisy.
They all waited for the next step.
— Then comes Pride.
The Vacillant Throne.
My Double.
My reflection handling my own powers better than me.
His words struck like a guillotine.
Kael clenched his fists.
His eyes burned with a dark glint.
The image of that fight came back to him —
his other self, perfect, relentless,
every move turned against him.
A murmur rippled through the survivors.
Some turned away, unable to bear the mere mention of that trial.
Now his eyes shone with a dangerous light.
Almost inhuman.
— And here… Greed.
The Bottomless Vault.
His voice rang out like a cold statement.
No appeal.
Around him, several Conquerors tensed.
Some still had the scene in mind —
those treasures turning to dust under their fingers.
He drew in a long breath,
his chest rising heavily.
His hoarse exhale seemed to fill the entire space.
— If we only talk about the Seven Deadly Sins,
then yes… that would be all.
But if we’re talking about the Nine Circles of Hell,
you realize there are two floors missing.
Two… that echo the first and the last.
— The first floor, murmured someone,
would refer to Limbo.
— And that only leaves one…
Everyone held their breath.
A leaden silence fell,
so dense it almost creaked.
— The ninth one.
The one that will disgust me more than all the others.
His gaze hardened.
His pupils flashed like blades.
When he spoke again,
his voice was pure, cutting ice:
— Betrayal.
The word snapped through the air,
dry and merciless.
Several Conquerors flinched.
Others looked away at once.
No one dared answer.
No one dared speak.
Even Gravyor, usually incapable of holding his tongue,
had turned his eyes aside, fists clenched.
Veda’s throat was tight.
Her pupils dilated and trembled,
as if the man sitting in front of her was no longer Kael,
but something she couldn’t follow with her gaze.
Kiyoshi had gone pale.
His lips barely moved,
murmuring an inaudible prayer,
his eyes fixed on the ground,
as if he needed to anchor himself
to something still real.
Then a dry sound snapped through the silence.
Clap.
Then another.
Clap.
The substitute started applauding.
Slowly.
Each clap echoed in the chamber like a judgment.
— Magnificent.
Exact, down to your hesitations.
He smiled faintly.
— I have one last question for you.
Kael lifted his head.
His golden eyes narrowed.
— You told me no one outside the dome would hear our conversation…
so why did I feel the opposite during the entire trial?
The emissary let a cold smile tug at his lips.
— You have sharp instincts, future Conqueror Kael.
His voice dropped, heavier,
almost amused.
— I did lie to you.
This dome doesn’t block sound.
After the trial,
anyone outside will have their memory altered…
or erased if necessary.
Simple.
Definitive.
Kael frowned.
— All that… just for one trial?
Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?
A pause.
His lips pressed together.
Then he looked away.
— Actually, forget what I just said.
It’s not my problem anyway.
He smiled —
a crooked line that never reached his eyes.
His sharp gaze pinned Kael,
wrapping him in a cold light.
— The Tower has recognized you.
— Your trial is now complete.
The emissary’s voice cracked like a whip:
— You may wait in the Rest Area
until this stage is officially closed
and the Ninth Floor opens.
He paused briefly,
eyes sweeping over the Conquerors
like someone gauging beasts in a cage.
— Enjoy it.
You’ve earned it.
One last cold smile stretched his lips
before he vanished in a rain of pale sparks.
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