The sky had changed.
The soft twilight of the Lovers' dungeon was now replaced by a blood-stained hue, where black clouds swirled around a single floating structure—a spire of jagged stone suspended in the storm.
It wasn't beautiful like the last trial.
It was cruel. Brutal. Honest.
[You have entered Dungeon No.005 – The Hierophant's Tower]"To rise in power is to be weighed by truth. Will your sins destroy you… or define you?"
Marek Callum—no longer hiding behind the name Riven Cross—tightened the straps of his worn gloves and looked up.
The Tower loomed above like a blade pointed at the heavens.
A staircase of broken stone pieces hovered in place, spiraling toward the open mouth of the tower. No walls. No railings. No safety net. Each step floated just far enough that one misstep meant falling forever.
He sighed.
"Of course."
He stepped forward, the first floating stone wobbling slightly under his foot.
As he ascended, the wind howled, and with every level he climbed, the world seemed to pull at his mind. Memories flickered across his thoughts.
Him at sixteen.Crying quietly in a classroom as others ignored him.Failing an interview.Lying to his mother that everything was fine.Clicking on the first chapter of Dungeon of Realms……and finally feeling alive.
He reached the door.
The massive gate of the tower opened with a deep groan.
Inside, a courtroom awaited.
Polished stone benches stretched on either side. Candlelight burned with green flames. And in the center sat a large chair carved from bones and gears.
A man in priest robes with a golden mask waited, fingers steepled.
His voice echoed like distant thunder.
"Welcome, Marek Callum."
The Hierophant.
He stood slowly. No hostility. No weapons. Just presence.
"This is not a trial of strength," he said. "This is the trial of truth."
Marek's system pinged:
Dungeon No.005 – Trial of the Mind"Face three versions of yourself. Accept, confront, or erase them."
Rewards:– Tarot Card: The Hierophant– Skill: Divine Testimony
Warning: Truth revealed cannot be reversed.
The center of the room warped.
Out stepped three versions of Marek.
But they weren't just illusions.
They felt alive.
🪞 Version One: A younger Marek—maybe seventeen—nervous, small, clutching a book. Eyes wide with wonder.
"I just want to be loved," he whispered. "Even if it's fake. Even if it's just in a story."
Marek felt a pang in his chest.
That… had once been him.
🪞 Version Two: A bitter, broken version. Scruffy hair, dull eyes, hunched shoulders. A cracked phone in one hand. A bottle in the other.
"I gave up," he muttered. "The world was unfair. So I stopped trying. Let the story finish me."
Marek clenched his jaw.
That one hurt.
🪞 Version Three: A version clad in black armor, glowing eyes, and a mocking grin.
"You already know who I am," he said smoothly. "The you who wins. The you who becomes the Final Boss. The world burns, and you smile. Because no one else deserves to win but you."
The Hierophant raised a hand.
"You may keep one. Absorb his truth. You must erase one—deny that version of yourself ever existed. And you must confront the last… and survive."
Marek stood frozen.
One to keep.One to erase.One to fight.
No system skill could help this time. This was a raw choice.
He stepped toward the younger version first.
The one who just wanted love.
Marek knelt before him.
"I forgot how pure you were," he whispered.
The boy looked up. "Will I disappear too?"
Marek shook his head. "No. I need to remember why I started."
Kept: Innocent Version – Hope of the ReaderYou regain 10% lost emotions. Empathy restored.
He turned next to the broken version.
The one who had quit.
Who had given up.
Marek stared him in the eyes. "I lived you. I hated you. But I'm not letting you define me anymore."
The broken Marek gave a crooked smile. "Maybe now… we're free."
He dissolved into dust.
Erased: Broken Marek – Timeline 11 DiscardedA weight lifts from your mind. Self-doubt removed.
Only one remained.
The Final Boss version.
Clad in power.
Smirking like a king without a throne.
Marek drew his sword—Reality Ink.
"Let's see if you're still smug without your throne."
[Boss Battle: Final Marek Begins]
The armored version of Marek surged forward with impossible speed. His blade curved like a crescent moon, striking with the weight of dozens of lifetimes.
Marek dodged narrowly, rolling under the strike and slicing back with his inkblade.
Sparks flew.
"Why fight me?" the dark version sneered. "You need me. You are me."
"No," Marek growled. "I'm who chose not to become you."
They clashed again.
Steel met steel. Skill met instinct.
But Marek had something his other self didn't.
Narrative Override: Active
He chose: "Rewrite enemy's next move."
The next swing from the dark version twisted—off balance. Marek seized the moment.
He plunged the blade through his own shadow's chest.
The armored version gasped.
"…So you would deny perfection?"
"I'd rather bleed for truth than rule in lies," Marek said coldly.
The shadow exploded into dust.
The courtroom vanished.
Only the Hierophant remained.
He stepped forward and pressed a single glowing finger to Marek's forehead.
"You have faced yourself."
"You may now face the world."
Tarot Gained: The HierophantSkill Unlocked: Divine Testimony – Once per trial, force any entity to answer truthfully.
As Marek walked through the final door of the tower, he felt lighter.
He had faced himself.
Not with blades.
But with courage.
And now, with five Tarot cards in hand, the path forward stretched into the unknown.
But for the first time—
He wasn't scared of who he was becoming.