Floor 57 – Hall of Illusions
Eron's boots sank into frost-coated stone as he crossed into the next floor. The air felt different here. It wasn't the bone-deep chill of the Ice Knights. This was heavier, affecting his thoughts instead of his body.
The corridor changed as he walked. The moss-covered walls moved and shifted. Shadows looked wrong. His Hovering Blaze trembled, its light bending oddly.
Then the whispers started.
At first, they were soft, like a voice behind his shoulder. Then they grew louder and louder, until he heard a familiar voice.
"Eron... where are you? Why didn't you answer my texts?"
His breath caught. That voice — Sarah's voice. His girlfriend from his old world, the one who had texted him right before everything went wrong.
"No," he clenched his teeth. "Just tricks."
Blurry figures appeared in the corners of his vision, walking past him. He caught glimpses of Sarah's smile, her worried expression, her hand reaching out to him. The dungeon was trying to pull his past out and use it against him.
When he blinked, they vanished. In their place stood new shapes, human-sized but hollow, glowing faint white. Spirits. They drifted forward, their forms flickering.
"Damn you!" he shouted, voice cracking from anger and disbelief. "You think wearing Sarah's face will break me?"
Eron raised his hand. Sparks ignited, building into a red glow.
"Fireball Number Two... Piercer!"
The lance of fire speared through the first spirit, but it didn't fall. The flame passed through like air.
The spirit turned its eyes toward him and screamed before rushing forward.
Eron rolled aside, his heart pounding with rage. "Normal fire won't work…"
He gritted his teeth, forcing the painful cold mana through his chest. His palm burned with icy fire.
The sparks shifted from orange to pale blue. Frost curled along his fingertips, and the orb formed, unstable and crackling.
"Fireball Number Twenty-One... Ice Flame!"
The orb drifted forward and touched the spirit.
There was no explosion, just a shriek, a soul's scream, high and echoing, tearing through the corridor. The spirit shook, its light collapsing inward before shattering into silence.
Eron staggered, gasping. His chest hurt, like something had been tearing inside, legs weakened, he pressed a hand against his chest, coughing as his vision blurred.
"Damn… the backlash was getting worse… but it was fine. If it meant freezing those bastards, he would take the pain."
He pushed himself upright, sweat freezing on his skin, more spirits were coming, at least a dozen of them floating through the walls.
He clenched his jaw. "One at a time. No more than that. I'll kill myself before they do if I push it."
The fight stretched for what felt like hours. Normal fireballs were completely useless against the spirits.
He had to lure and corner them, using piles of rubble and narrow passages to force single encounters, each spirit required an Ice Flame to destroy, and every cast tore at his soul, ripping at his chest.
By the time he cornered the third spirit, he was already pale and shaking. The fourth left him on his knees, coughing blood. The fifth made his vision go white at the edges.
"Can't... keep this up..." he gasped, but forced himself to stand.
He started using the environment more. When he spotted a cluster of three spirits, he dropped part of the ceiling instead of using Ice Flame, crushing two and isolating the third.
When the spirits tried to surround him, he retreated through narrow doorways where only one could follow at a time. Luckily, they couldn't pass through the walls, whatever bound them to this dungeon kept them trapped inside the corridors.
The strategy worked, but it was slow, exhausting work, each Ice Flame use left him weaker, until he was stumbling between fights, leaning on walls to stay upright.
When the last spirit finally shattered, he fell completely, lying on the cold stone floor, breathing in shallow gasps.
He chuckled weakly, tasting blood in his mouth. "I barely survived. The backlash might finish me before the monsters do."
It took him nearly an hour to recover enough to stand.
Floor 58 – Shifting Gravity
The stairwell dropped him into complete madness.
The moment his feet touched the floor, gravity shifted sideways, he slammed into what had been a wall, a jolt of pain hit his side.
"Argh, what the heck was that!?"
The air here was twisted, gravity wasn't fixed, sometimes it pulled down, sometimes sideways, sometimes up toward the ceiling. Chunks of stone and debris floated in midair. His Hovering Blaze wobbled frantically, struggling to follow the sudden directional changes.
Before he could adjust, the monsters appeared.
Stone serpents moved through the air, their scales shining like dark stone. They were massive, each one as thick as a tree trunk and twice as long, showing rows of sharp, rocky teeth.
The first serpent struck while Eron was still trying to figure out which way was up. Caught off guard, its tail slammed into his side, smashing him into the ceiling.
He grabbed desperately at a floating chunk of stone, fingers scraping raw against the rough surface. His body swung wildly as gravity shifted again, nearly tearing his grip loose.
"This is insane!" he shouted, forcing sparks to gather in his free hand.
"Fireball Number Four... Split Bloom!"
Three orbs shot out, but the twisted gravity pulled them in unpredictable directions, one curved upward and struck a serpent's eye, making it shriek and thrash. Another spun sideways and exploded harmlessly against a wall. The third looped around and nearly hit Eron himself.
A serpent lunged at him, jaws wide. He swung his body desperately, boots scraping against its scales as he barely avoided being bitten in half, but its coils wrapped around the stone he was clinging to, crushing it to powder.
He crashed across the chamber and hit a floating boulder hard enough to numb his shoulder, blood streaked down his arm where the stone had scraped him.
Two more serpents circled him, their scales glinting in the twisted light. Eron gritted his teeth, chest throbbing from the last attack. He didn't dare use Ice Flame again. It would kill him before they did.
He steadied his breath, sparks gathering in his hand.
"Fireball Number Two... Piercer!"
Bolt of red fire shot forward like a spear, cutting through the shifting air. It struck the nearest serpent between its plated scales, burning straight through and bursting out the other side.
The serpent screeched, body twisting violently before breaking apart into glowing fragments that drifted upward in the unstable gravity.
Eron spun with the shift, boots sliding across a floating slab of stone, second serpent came from above, jaws wide. He lifted his arm and fired again.
"Piercer!"
The next bolt drilled straight into the creature's eye. Blue blood sprayed through the air before the body went limp, falling weightless beside him.
Eron caught the edge of a nearby boulder, panting hard, arm trembled from the recoil, but he managed a weak grin.
"Piercer works... better than freezing myself to death."
"Fireball Number Seven... Reverse Burn!"
Scattered flames shot across the chamber, wrapping around the serpent. Eron clenched his fist, fire collapsed inward, crushing the creature under pressure. He opened his hand and the explosion sent it flying into its companion, both serpents crashing into floating debris.
Eron grabbed onto a stable ledge as the chamber continued to spin around him. He threw Scatterburst after Scatterburst, using the pellet spray to knock loose chunks of stone that crushed one serpent and drove the other back into a corner where falling rubble finished it off.
It wasn't elegant, but it kept him from using Ice Flame again.
When gravity finally stabilized and he found the stairwell to the next floor, he was limping badly, his right arm hanging useless at his side, and his chest bound tight with pain that went deeper than muscle and bone.
Floor 59 – The Crypt
The stairwell opened into a vast underground cemetery, air was thick with the smell of old dust and rusted metal.
Hundreds of stone coffins filled the chamber, each one bound with heavy iron chains. Some were stacked three high, creating narrow pathways between towering walls of the dead.
His Hovering Blaze dimmed nervously as they entered, its glow reflecting off the metal bindings.
The first coffin began to rattle before he'd taken ten steps. Soon after, another followed, and then a dozen more joined in.
Iron chains snapped with sharp cracks that echoed through the chamber, stone lids ground against stone as they slid aside.
Skeletal hands emerged first, then arms, then full figures dragging themselves out of their centuries-old prisons.
These weren't the crude skeletons from the earlier floors, some still wore remnants of armor, and each had a glowing crystal core embedded in their chest, pulsing with a sickly light.
Eron backed against a coffin wall, raising his hands as sparks gathered. "Here we go again..."
"Fireball Number Two... Piercer!"
The lance of fire punched through the nearest skeleton's ribs, but the creature kept walking, ignoring the damage between its bones, as long as that crystal core remained intact, it would keep fighting.
"I hate these skeleton bastards," he growled. "They just keep pushing, even after you destroy them."
"Fireball Number Four... Split Bloom!"
Three streaks struck a group of skeletons, cracking bones and sending one stumbling. But they pulled themselves back together within seconds, bones reforming around their glowing hearts.
More coffins opened, soon there were twenty skeletons advancing on him, then thirty, their movements were coordinated, intelligent. They were trying to surround him.
He retreated down a narrow passage between coffin stacks, forcing them to come at him one at a time, but even that wouldn't work for long. There were too many.
The closest skeleton raised a rusted sword. Eron had no choice.
He gritted his teeth, his body already aching from the previous uses. The cold mana felt painful in his body.
"Fireball Number Twenty-One... Ice Flame!"
The blue orb drifted forward and sank into the skeleton's chest. The crystal core cracked, then shattered. The skeleton's entire form crumbled to ash instantly.
But the backlash was worse this time. Eron doubled over, clutching his chest, feeling like something was tearing apart inside him. His vision flashed white, then black. He fell to one knee, sweat freezing on his brow.
"Shit... it's killing me..."
The remaining skeletons pressed closer, sensing his weakness. Three more entered the narrow passage, swords raised.
He forced himself to stand. "One more... just one more..."
Another Ice Flame orb formed, weaker this time, flickering uncertainly, but it held together long enough to reach a cluster of three skeletons.
Their cores cracked and broke simultaneously, their forms scattering.
This time Eron fell completely, his back against a coffin, wheezing and shaking, black spots danced in his vision, he couldn't use Ice Flame again, it would kill him.
But the skeletons kept coming.
He grabbed a femur from one of the destroyed skeletons, hefting it like a club, his Hovering Blaze flared brighter, distracting the approaching enemies while he struck at their crystal cores with the improvised weapon.
It was brutal, exhausting work. The bone club cracked and splintered with each impact. His hands became raw and bloody from gripping the rough surface. But slowly, he destroyed the remaining skeletons one by one, using tactics instead of strength.
When the last crystal core finally shattered, he dropped the broken bone and slumped against the coffin wall, breathing hard. Blood ran from a cut on his forehead. His clothes were torn and stained with dust and his own blood.
But he was alive.
The Camp Before the Gate
He found refuge in a small side chamber that had once been a preparation room for the dead. Ancient stone tables lined the walls, but more importantly, there was a clean spring flowing from the rock into a carved basin.
The water glowed faintly with the same blue-green light as the helpful moss from earlier floors.
Eron dropped beside the spring, his pack hitting the stone floor with a heavy thud, his entire body shook, not just from exhaustion, but from the deep, soul-level damage the Ice Flame had done to him.
Staring at the flowing water he let out a weak breath.
"Another spring... every floor has one," he muttered. "Guess the dungeon still wants me alive."
Eron gave a faint smile. "Thanks for this. I can rest now."
He stripped off his ruined shirt, wincing at the bruises and cuts across his shoulder. Some came from monsters, others from his falls in the gravity-twisted chamber. He cleaned the wounds with spring water, then bound them with strips torn from his spare clothes.
From his pack, he pulled a small piece of dried moss he'd been saving, one of the glowing varieties that seemed edible from earlier floors. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
Hovering Blaze provided the heat to warm it while he boiled water from the spring in his dented kettle.
The moss was bitter and tough, but he chewed it slowly, forcing himself to eat despite his lack of appetite. He needed whatever strength he could get.
"Ice Flame," he said quietly to his flickering companion. "It works. But it's eating me alive from the inside."
He stared at his reflection in the basin. His face was thin, eyes sunken, lips cracked and pale, he looked like he'd aged years in the past few floors.
"Outside those spirit and undead fights... it'll kill me faster than the monsters will."
He flexed his fingers, watching weak sparks dance across them, normal orange fire, warm and familiar.
"Then it's forbidden. Until I find a way to survive using it, Ice Flame stays sealed."
The words tasted bitter, but they were the truth.
He spent three days in that chamber, resting, healing, and forcing his body to recover as much as possible, the tunnel moss helped, but whatever damage Ice Flame did went deeper than flesh.
It touched something fundamental about his existence that healed much more slowly.
On the third day, he felt strong enough to continue.
The Black Gates
The passage from Floor 59 ended at massive iron doors that stretched up beyond his Hovering Blaze's light.
They were carved with symbols that pulsed with faint red energy, and the air around them felt heavy with ancient power.
This was it. Floor 60. The final destination.
Eron stood before the gates, adjusting his pack. His body still ached from the Ice Flame backlash, but he was as ready as he was going to be.
His Hovering Blaze spun slowly beside him, its warm light a reassuring presence in the oppressive darkness.
He raised his hand, letting normal sparks gather in his palm, red and orange flames, warm and familiar, the fire that had carried him this far without trying to destroy him from within.
"No more Ice Flame," he said quietly. "Not unless there's absolutely no other choice."
He pressed his palm against the gate. The carved symbols flared brighter, responding to his mana, stone groaned against stone as mechanisms older than memory began to turn.
The doors opened slowly, revealing darkness beyond.
From that darkness came the presence of something ancient and powerful, waiting for him.
Eron took a deep breath, steady and grim.
"Floor Sixty. Time to see what's been waiting for me."
He stepped through the gates, leaving the last of his hesitation behind.