Chapter 8
Aragi woke with a jolt. His body felt heavy, like he had been dragged through a storm. For a moment, he couldn't remember if last night was real — the monster, Mai's life dangling in front of him, and then that voice… that man who looked exactly like him.
But then he heard it.
"Oi, sleepyhead. Took you long enough."
The voice echoed inside his head, casual, like an old friend sitting at the edge of his bed.
Aragi sighed. "...So it wasn't a dream."
"Of course not. You think I'm the type to show up in dreams?" Igara's chuckle reverberated, deep and confident.
Aragi rubbed his face and sat up on his creaky hotel bed. The light seeping through the broken curtains of Drektown reminded him: this was real life. His life.
"Great," Aragi muttered. "Now I'm stuck with a roommate in my own head."
"Correction," Igara said, voice smooth, almost smug. "Not a roommate. The stronger half of your soul. Remember that."
Aragi didn't reply. Instead, he pulled himself together, washed his face in the rusted sink, and grabbed his half-broken katana sheath. The blade inside was useless after yesterday's fight. A crack split right through the steel.
"Useless junk," Aragi muttered.
"Or maybe," Igara said, "you're too weak to make it useful."
Aragi clenched his teeth. "You love running your mouth, don't you?"
"I love the truth," Igara replied coolly. "But hey, don't pout. We'll fix it. Gear matters, but your resolve matters more."
---
The Shop Visit
Aragi left the hotel and walked through Drektown's ruined streets. Traders shouted about their wares, food stalls smoked with cheap grilled meat, and scavengers peddled broken machine parts. Despite the chaos, one shop always stood out — the small armory run by Soros, the eccentric trader who somehow always had what people needed.
The bell above the door jingled as Aragi stepped inside.
"Yo, young man!" Soros grinned, his sharp eyes glinting behind thick glasses. "You look like you got chewed up and spat out. Lose a fight with a broom?"
Aragi deadpanned. "A monster."
"Same thing, eh?" Soros laughed. "So, what's the damage?"
Aragi placed his broken katana on the counter. "Need a replacement. Something durable."
Soros examined the weapon and whistled. "This didn't break because it was weak. This broke because you pushed it past its limit. Impressive."
Aragi raised a brow. "Impressive?"
"Yeah. Most rookies don't last this long. You're… different." Soros leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You keep this up, and you'll outgrow Drektown sooner than you think."
Aragi didn't answer, but Igara's voice filled his mind.
"He's right. You're stronger than you realize."
Soros finally placed a weapon on the counter: a new katana, slightly longer, black steel with a silver edge.
"This one's average grade, but sharp enough. Costs you 7,000 ren."
Aragi flinched at the price. His savings barely covered it.
"Do it," Igara urged. "Don't hesitate. A blade is an extension of you."
Aragi exhaled and paid. Soros wrapped the weapon, sliding it toward him.
"Don't die with it," Soros said, smirking.
---
Floors 16–19: The Push
The next morning, Aragi stepped into the Mesius elevator alone. The hum of the machine carried him up to Floor 16. When the gates opened, the air hit him like ice. The floor looked like a frozen storage hall — steel crates stacked high, frost covering every surface, broken machinery scattered.
Monsters appeared quickly. Small wolf-like ghhglook with jagged ice shards growing out of their spines.
Aragi drew his new katana and muttered, "Here we go."
The wolves lunged. Aragi cut one down, but another grazed his shoulder. He winced.
"You're too stiff," Igara commented lazily. "Flow with the movement, don't resist it."
Aragi blocked another wolf, frustration boiling. "Easy for you to say!"
"Then let me show you."
Suddenly, Igara's presence surged — not a takeover, but guidance. Aragi felt his arms move smoother, his strikes sharper. He slashed three wolves in one breath.
When the last one fell, Aragi panted, staring at his hands. "That… was me?"
Igara chuckled. "Half you, half me. Remember, we're one soul."
Aragi smirked despite himself.
By the time he cleared Floors 16 through 19, his movements had grown sharper, his stamina deeper. Every fight bled into the next, and though his body ached, he could feel it: he was changing.
---
Floor 20: The Trial
The elevator opened onto a massive bunker chamber. Broken spotlights flickered above, casting eerie shadows. In the center stood a hulking armored figure — a monster resembling a knight, rusted steel plates clanking with each step. Its weapon: a massive hammer.
Aragi froze. "This thing…"
"Relax," Igara said coolly. "Size means nothing."
The knight roared, swinging the hammer down. Aragi rolled aside, the ground shaking from the impact. He slashed at the armor, but sparks flew — the blade barely scratched it.
"Damn—"
"Too slow," Igara said. "You're aiming wrong. Joints. Weak points."
Aragi refocused. As the knight raised its hammer, Aragi dashed forward, sliding under the monster's swing, and struck its knee joint. Metal cracked. The knight staggered.
"That's it," Igara said, voice low and proud. "Now finish it."
Aragi leapt, driving his blade into the gap at the monster's neck. With a screech of tearing metal, the knight collapsed.
Aragi stood over the wreckage, chest heaving. His reflection shimmered faintly in the broken helmet. For a second, he swore it wasn't his face staring back — it was Igara's.
---
Growth and Banter
Over the next few days, Aragi cleared Floor after Floor. His rhythm sharpened, his movements cleaner. Sometimes he cursed, sometimes he laughed bitterly at his mistakes. And always, Igara was there — sometimes taunting, sometimes guiding, sometimes oddly reassuring.
At one point, after Aragi nearly tripped over a loose cable while fighting, Igara burst out laughing.
"You almost died to a cable. Legendary."
"Shut up!" Aragi snapped, embarrassed.
Another time, after Aragi sliced through a monster cleanly, Igara's voice softened.
"Not bad, Aragi. That one was all you."
Moments like these made the days bearable.
---
Floor 24: The Turning Point
By the time Aragi reached Floor 24, his body was covered in bruises, but his spirit burned stronger. The floor resembled a wrecked military base — steel walls dented, alarms flickering, collapsed turrets scattered across the ground.
A swarm of insect-like monsters emerged, chittering with razor legs.
Aragi tightened his grip. "No running this time."
The swarm charged. Aragi moved like water, slicing through their ranks. His blade danced, his steps light, each strike fueled by both his will and Igara's subtle guidance.
When the last insect fell, Aragi stood in the silence of the ruined base. His chest heaved, but he was still standing. Alone. Victorious.
Igara's voice broke the silence. "Not bad, partner. You've climbed from Floor 15 to 24 in days. Stronger. Faster. Smarter. This… is just the beginning."
Aragi smiled faintly. "Yeah… just the beginning."
The elevator gates opened in front of him, glowing faintly, waiting to take him higher.
And for the first time, Aragi felt it — a hunger. Not just to survive. To climb. To conquer.
---
End of Chapter 8