The Hall of Whispers
The spiral staircase stretched endlessly upward, carved from pale stone that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Zero and Arven climbed in silence, their footsteps echoing softly, the rhythm steady, controlled. Each step carried a weight that neither spoke of — the weight of survival, the quiet dread of what the Tower would demand next.
The last step ended in stillness.
They emerged into a corridor unlike any before. The walls were made of translucent crystal, and within them — faint silhouettes moved. Shadows of people. Some wept. Others screamed silently, their faces twisted in agony. Their hands pressed against the crystal as if begging for release.
Arven froze. "What… are those?"
Zero's expression didn't change, but his hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his blade. "Memories."
"Of what?"
"Of those who climbed before us."
The Tower's voice reverberated faintly through the crystal walls, distorted and layered, as if spoken by a thousand mouths at once.
"Welcome, Climbers, to the Twelfth Floor.Here lies the Veil of Memory — the place where the past is tested, and the mind is unmade.Only by confronting what you have forgotten may you ascend."
The corridor pulsed with crimson light. One by one, the silhouettes inside the crystal began to move faster — flickering between faces and forms. Some looked familiar. Others did not.
Then, the walls cracked.
The light dimmed.
And the first memory stepped free.
The First Illusion
A shape emerged from the crystal — human in form, but shifting like smoke. Its face flickered between dozens of visages before settling on one: a woman with long silver hair and eyes that mirrored Zero's own.
Arven took a half step back, confusion in his voice. "Zero… who is that?"
Zero didn't answer.
The woman smiled faintly. "You don't remember me, do you?" Her voice was soft, melodic — but beneath it ran a current of grief. "You promised you'd return. That we'd climb together. But you left me."
Arven frowned. "Is she—?"
"A projection," Zero said quietly. But his voice lacked conviction.
The woman stepped closer, her gaze fixed on him. "A projection? Is that how you silence the guilt? How many did you leave behind, Zero? How many died because you didn't turn back?"
Her words struck deeper than any blade.
For the first time since entering the Tower, Zero's composure wavered. His hand tightened around his sword — not out of anger, but restraint.
"This isn't real," he said, almost to himself. "The Tower feeds on memory. It wants reaction."
Arven looked from him to the woman, unease creeping in. "Then don't give it what it wants."
But the Tower was patient. The woman stepped closer still, the air shimmering around her. Her form began to flicker — silver hair turning black, her voice distorting, warping into another.
"You let me fall," the voice changed — deeper now, a man's. "You climbed while I burned."
Another figure emerged from the wall — a tall man with a spear. His chest bore a scar shaped like the Tower's sigil. His eyes were filled with hatred.
"You said we'd reach the top together, Zero."
Zero's breath slowed. "Rai…"
Arven looked at him sharply. "You know him."
"I did," Zero replied, voice quiet but firm. "He was my brother in the first climb."
The man laughed — a sound like breaking glass. "Was. Until you sacrificed me for your precious 'clarity.'"
The Trial of Guilt
The air grew heavy. The crystal corridor dissolved, giving way to a vast black plain. Above them, countless fragments of memory floated — moments frozen in glass: battles, faces, deaths, all flickering like dying stars.
Zero stood at the center, surrounded by phantoms of his past.
The Tower whispered through the wind:
"The burden of ascent is memory. To climb, you must bear what you have erased."
The phantoms closed in.
Rai lunged first, spear glinting with spectral fire. Zero parried, the impact sparking a chain of ripples across the ground. Each clash echoed not just in sound, but emotion — every strike filled with the weight of shared history.
Zero countered, his movements precise but restrained. He didn't want to strike, but hesitation was punished swiftly. Rai's spear grazed his shoulder, leaving a mark of light instead of blood.
Arven joined the fight, blade flashing. "Tell me what I'm hitting, Zero!"
"Guilt," Zero said coldly. "Nothing more."
But deep down, he wasn't sure.
Each phantom he struck down dissolved — only to reform moments later, stronger, louder, their voices overlapping until it became a chorus.
"You failed us!""You forgot us!""You climbed over our graves!"
Arven gritted his teeth. "There's too many—!"
"Then stop fighting shadows," Zero snapped.
He closed his eyes and dropped his stance.
Breaking the Veil
The phantoms surrounded him, ready to strike — but Zero didn't move. Instead, he slowed his breathing, centering his mind. The Tower wanted guilt, fear, reaction. It wanted him to fight what was already part of him.
But what if he accepted it?
He opened his eyes, gray irises glowing faintly with power. "You're not my enemies," he said quietly. "You're my reminders."
The phantoms froze.
Zero stepped forward, lowering his sword. "Every death I caused. Every sacrifice. Every failure. I remember them. I carry them. But I don't regret climbing."
Rai's expression softened — just for a moment. Then, like a mirror cracking, his body split into fragments of light. One by one, the others followed, their forms fading into dust.
The black plain shattered.
Zero and Arven found themselves back in the crystal corridor. The walls had turned clear, and the trapped silhouettes were gone. Only the faint hum of the Tower remained.
Arven let out a slow breath. "So… the test was guilt."
Zero's gaze lingered on the path ahead. "No. The test was memory. The Tower wanted to see if I'd run from the past."
He turned to the staircase that had appeared at the corridor's end, glowing faintly with blue light.
Arven asked quietly, "And did you?"
Zero didn't answer. He simply stepped forward.