"Floor 760. What are we even going to get..." Aymara asked, her voice echoing as she descended a few steps.
Unlike most levels in the towering structure, Floor 1978 began with an architectural marvel: buildings sprouting from the ceiling, their foundations clinging to the roof like roots in reverse. These inverted structures jutted down at strange angles, forming a dizzying, surreal skyline that challenged the very concept of gravity.
The lift opened directly into this upside-down world, sparing new arrivals the long, disoriented walk usually required to grasp the floor's bizarre design.
Among these architectural oddities were statues—masterfully crafted and disturbingly lifelike. Some were multi-winged humans, serene faces framed by a chaotic tangle of feathers and limbs.
Others seemed to emerge from the buildings themselves, as if the stone birthed guardians. These statues clung to their inverted perches, expressions suspended between awe and terror.
"It's better than staying here, don't you think?" Xaltal said, tightening his grip on the sword he always carried.
Aymara eyed the sheath again. Does he sleep with it too? The thought drew a stifled chuckle from her lips. Her amusement shifted as she studied him further.
How does he even sleep with that chainmail on? The image of him rolling around in bed encased in metal links was both comical and baffling.
"You okay, Aymara?" Xaltal's voice broke through her thoughts. Though his face was obscured, concern carried clearly in his tone.
They continued along a descending path inside the structure. The central section was curiously vacant, almost as if reserved for something to pass through.
On either side, walkways clung to the walls, dotted with doors that opened into various sections of the enormous facility. People in pristine white coats moved past them, quick and focused, eyes burning with purpose. It wasn't a residential area—that much was obvious.
This was a laboratory floor. Despite the futuristic research underway, the design stuck to its Renaissance theme. Arched doorways, intricate carvings, and frescoes of historical scientific milestones covered entire walls.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just..." Aymara paused, pulling out her phone. Her clothes had changed since their last outing; she wore a voluminous white shirt that reached far past her waist.
The end of the structure still looked impossibly far, the path stretching on like a silver thread. Aymara's feet began to ache.
As if sensing her discomfort, Xaltal spoke. "Jump on my back." His tone left no room for argument.
Aymara blinked.
How could he even see her expression through that veil? "Sure... my feet are killing me," she admitted, grateful. She climbed onto his back, surprised by how effortlessly he supported her.
Approaching the edge of the walkway, Xaltal peered into the section separating the two halves of the floor.
"Don't want to bump into anyone," he said, a mischievous tone in his voice. Aymara's eyes widened. Her heart picked up. Then he jumped, landing with a swift thud on the central causeway below.
Xaltal locked his gaze on their goal: the far end of the walkway, still distant. "Ready?" he asked, but Aymara suspected it didn't matter what she said. "Set," he muttered, muscles tensing. "Go!" Aymara screamed—half fear, half thrill.
They launched forward. Aymara clung tightly, her white outfit a flash against Xaltal's black robe. Together, they blurred through the air, light and shadow in tandem.
Even during the fall, Xaltal's grip on his sword never wavered. His legs bent mid-air, bracing. Aymara squeezed her eyes shut.
They landed with a thunderous thud, enough to make the floor tremble. Xaltal instinctively shielded her as the force rippled through their bodies.
When she opened her eyes, they had arrived.
Flanking the door stood two awe-inspiring statues.
The first depicted a figure half-emerged from stone, legs and torso still trapped in marble. Its detailed upper body reached upward, grasping a sculpted flame that seemed to flicker with inner light, its face etched with determination and awe. Tools like a compass and astrolabe adorned its base.
The second portrayed a dreaming figure reclining on marble mist, one arm outstretched to cup a liquid star dripping like quicksilver. Its sublime expression hovered between sleep and enlightenment, surrounded by carvings of mythical beasts and legendary deeds.
"Alright, lift time," Xaltal announced, stepping forward. He reached for the massive door's handle.