The Second Reflection
The staircase wound upward through a tunnel of light that pulsed faintly with a heartbeat rhythm — slow, deliberate, alive. Zero led the way, silent and composed, though Arven noticed the faint tremor in his right hand.The aftermath of the previous trial still lingered — not in wounds, but in the invisible scars that memory left behind.
When they emerged, the air had changed again.The floor was shaped like an ancient cathedral, but built from translucent stone and floating shards of glass that drifted in slow orbit. Every reflection shimmered like liquid light, showing distorted glimpses of the past.
Arven's voice echoed softly. "This place… feels heavier."
Zero looked around. "It's the same test. But now, it's not mine."
Arven frowned. "What do you mean—"
The Tower answered before Zero could.
"Memory belongs not to one, but to all. The Veil feeds equally. The next soul to be tested—Arven Cael."
The world pulsed once.The light dimmed.And the air grew cold.
The Weight of the Past
Arven took an unsteady step back. "Wait—what's happening?"
Zero said nothing. His gray eyes tracked the shifting reflections as they gathered, forming a ring around them both. In each shard, Arven saw something — a glimpse of his old squad, faces of comrades long gone.
One by one, they emerged from the light.Six figures — armored, scarred, and familiar.
The leader, a broad man with a scar across his jaw, stepped forward. His voice was rough, accusing. "Arven Cael. Lieutenant of the 5th Expeditionary Unit. Do you remember your orders that day?"
Arven's eyes widened. "No… no, this isn't—"
"Answer me," the phantom barked.
Arven's throat tightened. He remembered too well — the snowy fortress, the ambush, the screams. How he had given the signal to fall back, leaving half his unit behind.
Zero watched silently, his face unreadable.
The phantom sneered. "You called for retreat when we could've held the line. You saved yourself. And us? You left us to die."
The others joined in, voices overlapping, rising in accusation.
"You abandoned us.""You swore you'd never run.""You lived, and we burned."
Arven's breath came quick, his knuckles white on his sword's hilt. "I didn't run. I— I followed orders!"
Zero spoke quietly, almost gently. "Whose?"
Arven turned toward him, face pale. "What are you saying?"
"The Tower doesn't lie," Zero said. "But it doesn't tell the whole truth, either. If it's showing you this, there's something unresolved."
The phantoms advanced, their eyes glowing with the same crimson hue as the Tower's sigil. "Unresolved?" the leader mocked. "He chose himself over duty."
Arven shouted, "I had no choice!"
The light responded — flickering violently. The entire cathedral trembled as the ground cracked beneath their feet.
The Trial of Duty
The six phantoms drew spectral weapons — not illusions now, but manifestations of Arven's guilt given form. Their blades burned with silent fire as they lunged.
Arven blocked the first strike, sparks erupting where steel met spectral flame. "Zero, I can't— they're not real!"
Zero's tone was calm, but his movements sharp as he deflected another strike aimed at Arven's back. "The pain is real. The guilt is real. Fight, not to erase them — but to accept them."
Arven slashed wildly, driven by desperation. Each time his sword struck a phantom, it dissolved into mist — only to reform moments later, stronger, faster, angrier. The Tower wasn't testing his strength; it was feeding on his denial.
He stumbled back, gasping. "It doesn't end!"
Zero's blade flashed once, dispersing two phantoms at once. His gaze was cold but firm. "Because you haven't accepted what you did."
"I didn't abandon them!" Arven roared. "I— I tried to save them!"
The Tower whispered — soft, echoing, cruel.
"And failed."
The ground cracked open, revealing the battlefield Arven remembered — snow, blood, burning outposts, and the sound of dying men. The cathedral faded completely, replaced by that night.
Zero stood beside him, unaffected by the illusion, his eyes scanning the chaos. "Your memory. Your burden."
Arven fell to his knees, surrounded by his squad's final moments. "I tried… I told them to fall back, but they didn't listen…"
The phantom of his captain knelt beside him, face twisted in sorrow. "You were supposed to lead, not flee."
Arven's voice broke. "If I stayed, we all would've died."
The captain's tone softened. "And yet you've carried us ever since."
For the first time, the accusing voices fell silent.
Arven looked up through the snowstorm. "You're… forgiving me?"
The captain smiled faintly. "We already did. The only one who didn't forgive you — is you."
Acceptance
The illusion wavered. The snow melted away, replaced once more by the crystal light of the Tower. The phantoms dissolved into motes of white, drifting upward like stars.
Zero watched quietly as Arven stood, his breathing ragged but steady.
"The Tower didn't want your guilt," Zero said softly. "It wanted your truth."
Arven let out a long breath. "I thought I'd buried that part of me."
"You can't bury what defines you," Zero replied. "Only carry it correctly."
The Tower's voice filled the air again — deep, resonant, almost approving.
"Memory accepted. Burden balanced.Two climbers remain unbroken. Proceed to the final threshold of the Twelfth Floor."
A staircase of glass and light materialized before them, leading upward into a storm of shimmering haze.
Arven looked up at it, then at Zero. "We both faced our ghosts."
Zero's tone was calm but distant. "Not yet. The Tower never ends a floor with peace."
And as they stepped toward the staircase, the air behind them rippled — and something moved in the reflection, something that was neither phantom nor memory, but watching.