The sterile hum of the hospital room faded, the scent of antiseptic replaced by the faint, ethereal aroma of mana-infused air.
The world around Aelion dissolved into a stream of shimmering data before coalescing back into solid form.
His vision cleared, and he found himself standing once more in the opulent confines of the 'Royal Inn' on the 99th floor, the last place he had logged out.
The familiar, crushing weakness that was his constant companion in the real world was gloriously absent.
Here, in this digital realm, his body was a vessel of overflowing vigor and latent power, a sensation that never failed to send a thrill of liberation through him.
He opened the intricately carved door of his suite and descended to the ground floor.
The receptionist, an NPC named Rina programmed with astonishingly lifelike warmth, greeted him with a radiant smile.
"Good morning, Champion Aetherius," she said, her voice a melodic chime that echoed the inn's serene atmosphere.
Aelion offered a warm, genuine nod in return. In this world, he was not a cripple or an exile; he was Aetherius, a name whispered with respect and awe.
Without wasting a moment, he moved with purpose through the bustling streets of the floating city, his destination clear.
He reached the master blacksmith's store, a cavernous forge filled with the ringing of hammers and the glow of enchanted metal.
His gear, a set of armor and a blade that had been meticulously crafted and upgraded over five long years, had been completely repaired, its durability restored to pristine condition.
He also procured a small, crucial supply of Elemental Spheres—volatile orbs of concentrated energy that exploded with devastating force upon impact when activated and thrown. They were a tactical weapon, a last resort.
After a final, thorough check of his inventory and abilities, he walked to the very edge of the town.
The 99th floor wasn't an open world; it was a defined, curated challenge, and this was its boundary.
Before him stood a colossal, ancient gate, etched with runes that pulsed with a faint, dormant light.
This was the gateway to the next floor, the final barrier that had remained unbreached since the game's inception.
Taking a steadying breath, Aelion waved his hand.
A single, iridescent feather materialized in his palm, its vanes shimmering with the light of a captured nebula.
This was the Key of Aethel, the ultimate artifact earned only by conquering the 99th floor.
As soon as it appeared, the great gate began to tremble. A wind, born from nowhere, whipped through the air, kicking up dust and causing his mage's robes to flap violently.
The runes on the gate flared, and with a series of deafening, crackling reports, the immense doors groaned inward.
Beyond them, a staircase of pure, solidified light materialized, each step humming with immense power. A glow of absolute determination hardened in Aelion's eyes. This was it. He stepped onto the first luminous step, and his visage was instantly flashed away in a torrent of light and energy.
The transition was instantaneous. Aelion finally appeared on the 100th floor, but all he could perceive was an absolute, consuming darkness. Before he could even orient himself, a stark, system-generated interface materialized before his eyes.
[Scanning...]
The word hung in the void for what felt like an eternity, five long minutes where nothing existed but the silent, ominous scan and the beat of his own heart. Then, the notification changed.
[Match found]
The darkness shattered. In a disorienting flash, Aelion found himself standing in the center of an impossibly vast throne room.
The architecture was sublime, crafted from materials that seemed to be solidified light and shadow.
And there, upon a dais at the far end, sat a man on a throne of obsidian and gold.
His posture was one of eternal indolence, his head resting against the high back, his form entirely shrouded in robes of woven gold that seemed to be spun from sunlight itself.
Delicate, impossibly complex carvings flashed and shifted across the fabric, telling stories of forgotten epochs.
Sensing an intruder, the man lazily opened his eyes.
They held the depth of dead stars.
In that single glance, a lofty, overwhelming intent flooded the room, a pressure not of physical force, but of sheer, absolute supremacy.
Aelion felt his own fighting intent ignite in response, a blazing inferno against this cosmic chill.
His blood rushed in his veins, not with fear, but with an excitement he had never before felt, a pure, unadulterated thrill for the challenge that stood before him.
A lofty voice, calm and resonant, spread through the hall, touching every stone. "Someone finally appeared?"
As the last word echoed, a boundless, tangible pressure fell upon Aelion's shoulders, a weight meant to crush his spirit and force him to his knees.
His virtual body strained, his knees buckling under the immense, nameless force. A surge of raw, incandescent anger flooded through him.
He was already powerless in the real world, forced to his knees by his own frail body and the schemes of others.
Was he also going to give in here, in the one place where he was supposed to be free?
'Never.' A surge of golden light, the manifested will of his five years of struggle, erupted from his core, dispelling the crushing pressure and allowing him to stand tall.
A slight, almost imperceptible glint of interest passed through the being's ancient eyes.
His voice spread once more, the very air vibrating with his command. "To pass the test, you only need to do one thing. Touch the Seed."
The moment the command was issued, the throne room itself warped and expanded, the space distorting until Aelion stood at one end of what now felt like an infinite hall.
At the opposite end, impossibly far away, a single object appeared.
It was a Seed, pulsing with a soft, radiant white light, its rhythm like the heartbeat of creation itself. The final trial had begun.