A few more days passed in Verdant Rise. Leo spent the time sharpening his form, stabilizing his third qi point, and mentally preparing for what came next.
Then, one morning, they were summoned.
The glowing sigils that had been dormant above Verdant Rise's exit path flickered to life, signaling it was time. Their time in the elite sanctuary was over.
Mira, Aric, and Leo packed their few belongings, slung weapons over their backs, and followed the path down the mountain into the larger convergence zone—a wide valley where various teams from across the Tower's second floor were being gathered.
As they descended, the hum of concentrated qi gave way to a heavier, rougher atmosphere. The energy here was wild again, untamed and uneven—no longer refined by the elemental wells of Verdant Rise.
It was obvious almost immediately.
The others had suffered.
The valley was full of groups, but most were battered—bandaged limbs, bruised faces, hollow expressions. Dozens were sprawled on stone benches or clustered around makeshift rest zones. A few tended to comrades who hadn't made it through the second trial intact.
Leo glanced around and quickly picked up on something else: the cultivation levels.
He focused, using the new sensitivity his third qi point granted him.
Most of them… hadn't even reached two.
A few stood out with one qi point, the energy flickering faintly around their cores. But aside from him, Mira, and Aric—not a single person radiated the force of three.
They were ahead.
Far ahead.
A few people came over to ask about their training, their group makeup, their talent rewards. There was cautious friendliness in the air—but also subtle envy. When Leo mentioned three qi points, most conversations became shorter, tighter.
After a while, as they moved toward the far edge of the gathering zone, Aric leaned toward Leo and spoke quietly.
"You're starting to see it, aren't you?"
Leo nodded. "Most of them aren't going to make it."
Mira folded her arms, scanning the valley. "Some might scrape through another floor. But most of these people... they're not moving fast enough."
Leo frowned. "But we're all being tested. If they made it this far—"
"—doesn't mean they'll keep up," Aric finished. "The Tower doesn't wait. And it doesn't slow down."
Mira sighed. "There's a rule. Unofficial, but real: one floor, one qi point. If you're not keeping that pace… your odds of surviving drop fast."
"And even if you do survive," Aric added, "without progress, the pressure builds. The monsters escalate. The trials shift. Eventually, the Tower breaks you—body, mind, or both."
Leo's stomach turned. He looked back at the groups—tired, drained, talking quietly in the corners of camp. They had no idea how far behind they already were.
"What happens if you give up?" he asked.
"If you make it to Floor Five," Mira said, "you can forfeit. The Tower lets you stay—permanently."
"But if you don't make it to five…" Aric said quietly, "you're not giving up. You're just... gone."
Leo said nothing.
He looked back once more—at the hopeful faces, the half-formed cores, the people too slow to realize the test had already passed them by.
And for the first time, he understood the name whispered between camps:
The Damned.
Just as the air in the valley settled into a tense lull, a series of deep chimes rang out across the landscape—five measured tones, clear and resonant. The conversations died instantly. Every head turned toward the northern ridge, where a row of figures was approaching.
They walked in perfect formation—six in total, clad in layered black-and-gold armor etched with glowing runes. Each carried a polearm or curved blade at their back, and each radiated a dense, controlled pressure. Not wild like the initiates—no, theirs was the weight of completion. Of permanence.
They weren't just stronger.
They were finished.
Tower Guards.
Mira spoke under her breath, eyes narrowing. "Floor Five fortifiers. They made it through… and chose to stay."
Leo glanced at her. "They can't keep climbing?"
"They could. They chose not to. Some say it's for peace. Others—because they saw what was coming."
The lead guard, a woman with silver-streaked black hair and unreadable eyes, stepped forward as the group reached a raised stone platform. She surveyed the crowd, then spoke—her voice calm, but carrying effortlessly.
"Trial Three begins now."
The gathered initiates straightened, murmurs passing like a breeze through the camp.
"This trial is a joint challenge. You are no longer being tested as teams, but as a collective. Your cooperation will determine whether any of you survive."
She paused to let that sink in.
"You will be transported to a crossing—a narrow stone bridge spanning a chasm. For the next forty-eight hours, you will be tasked with holding that bridge. Together."
She raised one hand, fingers tightening slightly.
"You will face waves of enemies. Creatures born of the Tower's will. They will escalate. They will adapt. They will not stop."
A ripple of anxiety moved through the crowd.
"If the bridge is breached, the trial ends. And so do you."
There was no need to elaborate further.
Leo swallowed hard. Forty-eight hours. With this many people barely at one qi point...
The guard's gaze moved over the crowd, landing briefly—intentionally—on Leo, Mira, and Aric.
"You will be given one hour to prepare. At that time, all teams will be transported to the battlefield. No additional aid will be given."
Her eyes swept across the valley one final time.
"Prove your right to continue."
Then the guards turned and marched back the way they came, disappearing as swiftly and silently as they'd arrived.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then the murmuring began again, louder this time. Some tried to strategize. Others panicked. A few sat down where they stood, visibly overwhelmed.
Mira turned to the others. "Two days. One bridge. And this crowd."
Aric exhaled slowly. "We'd better start planning."
Leo stared toward the sky, the enormity of what was coming settling over him like the weight of a mountain.
One bridge. All of them together.
And only the Tower knew what would come for them.