Cydal's legs, stiff and screaming, refused to carry him past the eighth kilometer. Each step felt like dragging stone through tar. The clock at the tower was stuck at 1 O'Clock. Meaningless. Still, but time was running out.
From the broken skeletons of buildings — nothing but rubble now — a light began to pulse. It oozed into form like molten metal bending into shape. A woman emerged, not one of flesh, but of light and meaning. Her smooth curves and elongated limbs shimmered, etched in alien runes that twisted and danced across her glowing skin. They whispered a language only gods might read. Her hair flowed behind her like a single living tendril, and her eyes… her eyes held no pupils. Only light. Blinding, silver, like twin moons in a starless sky.
Cydal dropped to his knees.
His skin, tinged faintly green, fought against the last traces of his fading humanity. Claws split from his fingers like blades from sheaths, nails rising like unsheathed swords. His form swelled—monstrous, divine, broken.
Then—the voice again.
"Let me out…"
It came like a whisper through static, a glitch in reality.
"You are losing your concentration."
"I will come out. I will devour you. I am stronger than you."
Each syllable scraped his bones. His soul felt drained, as if the voice inside was siphoning him into oblivion.
He trembled. He was disappearing — returning to null.
But then… the glowing woman reached him.
Her warmth washed over him like sunlight in a blizzard. His claws retracted. His skin softened, the green fading. Breathing returned. He blinked, grounding himself, dusting off his clothes like waking from a nightmare.
She hovered before him, suspended midair — weightless, birdlike, surreal.
"So... it's you again?" Cydal murmured. "You were watching me… at Mondemon School, weren't you?"
He stared. "Why did you follow me here?"
In a blink, she was behind him — silent, studying, curious as a child watching a flame flicker.
Then her glow drifted toward the distant tower.
The same direction as me…? he thought.
She turned. Their eyes met.
She nodded — soft and certain, she spun midair with a strange grace. Both arms reached out open like an invitation. A silent gesture asking him to follow.
His thoughts couldn't keep up with his feet.
They were already moving.
'Fine. I'm headed to that tower anyway.'
They reached the tower.
It wasn't like the rubble and ruin that made up the rest of the dead city. No crumbling stones, no shattered beams — this one stood proud, untouched. Like the landlords of this strange place had actually given a damn and paid their cosmic taxes.
It should've been pitch dark.
But her light changed everything.
Her glow bathed the world in silver-gold, illuminating every crack, every corner. Even the dust dared not float in her presence.
Cydal glanced at her, hands in his pockets, voice calm but curious.
"Anyway… what's your name? I can't just keep calling you 'the thing' or 'the light.'"
She tilted her head, then nodded at the end of his sentence.
He blinked. "Wait. Does that mean your name is 'the thing' or 'the light'?"
Another nod. This time, her glow flared, pulsing brighter — like a laugh in light-form.
Cydal scratched the back of his head. "Alright then... I guess I'm calling you Light."
She twirled midair, her excitement tangible in every rotation. Then, without warning, she glided through the towering gates.
"Wait — where are you going?!" he called out, stepping forward.
No answer.
Her glow vanished like it had never existed.
And just like that, the world fell back into black.
But the darkness wasn't a problem — not for Cydal.
His right eye gleamed red, a glow so faint it barely kissed the air, but it saw everything. Through void, through shadow, through dimensions where even light surrendered. Like a cat in the night… if that cat could stare directly into the heart of a black hole and see what screamed inside.
Before him stood the gate — a towering wall of silver that stretched beyond what mortal eyes could trace. More than a door; it was a cage, shimmering, humming with alien resonance. Holding him back. Holding something else in.
On either side of him stood statues — towering figures, guardians carved from some long-dead glory. Their weapons were not metal, but massive blades sculpted from twisted bone, wrapped in the flayed skin of their victims. Their empty sockets burned with spectral fire as if remembering every soul they ever judged.
Suddenly, their eyes flared — and from the air, his translucent screen materialized before Cydal:
[A riddle has been prepared for you. Answer it correctly and you may pass. Failure will result in immediate execution.]
The letters flickered once — then the riddle began to unfold, line by glowing line:
"I am not the past, but I am what you remember.
I do not lie, but I do not tell the truth.
I change with emotion, and blur with time.
I am the echo of what was,
shaped not by fact, but by how it felt.
I can ruin you or protect you.
You swear I'm real, but I am just... reflection.
What am I?"
The statues leaned in slightly — the way predators lean into a kill.
Cydal stood in silence, one hand resting on his chin, the other wrapped tightly around his midsection — a thoughtful pose, but also a protective one. His breath came slow, steady. His crimson eye flickered as it studied the words etched in glowing code.
Then, his voice cut through the silence — calm but certain.
"Memories."
The word echoed.
He stepped forward slightly, elaborating — maybe to the statues, maybe to himself.
"They're not lies… but they're not the truth either. Just fragments shaped by how we felt at the time. The more time passes, the more we twist them — protecting ourselves from pain, or clinging to joy that never existed. We don't remember the past as it was. We remember it as we needed it to be."
For a second, nothing moved.
Then, the statues — who had already begun raising their colossal bone swords — slowly lowered them. Like executioners reconsidering a sentence.
With a guttural groan, the gate creaked open, a storm of ancient dust curling at its base like mist.
The screen buzzed to life once more.
[Congratulations. You have given the correct answer. You may pass.]
Cydal took a breath, ready to step through—
—but then he froze.
Someone was already there, sitting just beyond the gate like she'd been waiting for hours.
Selphonie.
She was lounging casually on the ground, one hand petting the heads of two massive grimhounds like they were oversized lapdogs. Their rotted jaws — still dripping blood and soul-slick saliva, nuzzled into her as if they'd been raised on belly rubs and bedtime stories.
One of them licked her cheek with a wet slurp. She giggled.
"Mwaha~ Go easy, boys."
One rested its gnarled head between her thighs, its massive skull gently pressing against her lap. She laughed again, wriggling.
"That tickles…"
Then their ears perked.
In perfect sync, the beasts turned their heads toward Cydal. Their mouths parted, wide and wet, revealing rows of jagged, black-stained fangs.
They didn't growl.
They howled.
Selphonie glanced over her shoulder, unfazed. A faint smirk played on her lips.
"Oh my… didn't expect you to take this long."
She rose slowly, brushing the dust from her tights.
"You really shouldn't keep a lady waiting. Some of us…" Her gaze flicked to the grimhounds, "…don't offer second chances."
Cydal instinctively dropped into a defensive stance, feet shifting across the cold stone floor, claws flexing, muscles coiled like springs. His red eye sharpened, locked onto her.
Selphonie noticed — and smiled.
"Oh?" she teased, her voice like honey laced with broken glass. "Don't tell me… you were expecting someone else to be here?" She tilted her head, a mock pout forming. "How un-gentlemanly of you. Am I not pretty enough for your expectations?"
She stood, brushing off imaginary dust from her thighs, and lazily gestured to the massive tower around them.
"This," she said, twirling once beneath the still-glowing archway, "is my domain. The Time Chamber. I'm the boss in charge."
Cydal didn't move an inch. His breathing slowed. He was waiting — studying her.
A glimmer sparked in her eye as she walked a slow circle around him, arms behind her back.
"So…" she mused, "is it safe to assume there are other bosses for the other domains?"
He didn't answer.
"Hmm." Her lips curled. "Tension, tension… but I'm not the one who'll be revealing that or maybe I might, what are you going to do to make me?"
She stopped in front of him, toe-to-toe now, and looked up at him.
"But do tell me this… do you know why you're here?" Her voice lowered, silkier now, voice trailing like perfume. "In our last little skirmish, you didn't really defeat me, so you shouldn't be allowed here, unless you win, you can't enter."
Cydal smiled, teeth showing. A dangerous grin.
"Oh, I remember…" he said. "I remember putting you flat on the ground."
Selphonie's laughter echoed, echoing off the stone walls like chimes in a haunted cathedral. Not angry — entertained.
"Ah, memory," she said softly. "So fragile. So… customizable."
She leaned closer, her breath cold like wind through a graveyard.
"Do you even understand the purpose of a dungeons assigned for each boss?" she asked, hips swaying like a serpent closing in on its prey. Her steps were slow, graceful, every movement deliberate — a performance just for him.
She circled Cydal, her presence thick as perfume. Her hands floated up to his shoulders, draped around him with barely a whisper of contact, just enough to cloud the air with heat and tension.
"Oohh~ I see it now," she purred, tilting her head, her lips parting slightly, glossy and black as obsidian. "That spark in your eye… curiosity."
Her face inched closer, her breath tickling his cheek. Her lips hovered near his skin — a kiss promised but never delivered.
But Cydal pushed her back with a firm hand, his expression cold, unwavering.
"I know the purpose," he said. "Of the chambers. The bosses. The basement. The gates."
His claws clenched. "I will defeat every dungeon. Every boss player. And when I do—I'll reach the Creator. His head will rest in my hands."
Selphonie's laughter flowed like a velvet ribbon, soft and low, wrapping around him, teasing.
"Mmm… so intense," she said, eyes glinting. "But before you reach that far... you'll need to prove your dominance to me."
Her voice dipped into a darker tone — playful, but primal.
"Through battle… or," she stepped back with a slow turn, giving him a final look over her shoulder, "the other methods."
Her words echoed in the silence like an unspoken challenge — tempting, dangerous, and utterly unforgiving.
Cydal didn't hesitate. Breaking from his defensive stance, he launched forward like a bullet, all his momentum aimed straight for her head — a clean, decisive strike.
But he froze mid-charge. Not by hesitation… but by pain.
A sharp stab exploded through his chest. Purple cursed mana erupted from his back like a cannon blast, painting the air with its glow.
His knees buckled under the weight of it, struggling to keep him upright. What the hell? He hadn't seen her move. Had she used her time-skip technique again?
But no — her posture told a different story. Her adrenaline levels were high, her breathing changed. Her muscles moved with purpose, engaged, but never stiff.
This time she didn't stay distant. This time, she was coming at him physically.
Cydal barely had time to recover. Gritting his teeth, he lunged again.
But this time… he didn't even get to move.
A sudden rupture bloomed on the opposite side of his chest — another violent blast of cursed purple mana, tearing through him like a cannon fired point-blank. His body jerked backward, breath catching in his throat.
The pain… was unbearable.
She wasn't even stopping time — even if she tried, she couldn't. This world didn't follow time. Her body moved so fast, Cydal couldn't see her shift or sense the moment she changed position.
From the smoke and glow, she stepped toward him. Her movements fluid, almost theatrical — like a dancer gliding toward an adoring crowd.
"That expression…" she purred, tilting her head, "the pain… the terror... I loooove it."
Inside him, the whispers cracked open like thunder. They weren't whispers anymore — they were screams.
"Let me out…"
"Let me take over — I'll crush her into the dirt!"
"I want OUT!!"
Cydal's hands trembled, fingers elongating, nails stretching into jagged, black claws. His skin rippled, shifting between flesh and something darker, ancient… something hungry.
But he resisted.
With a sharp exhale, he forced it down. The claws retracted. The trembling stilled.
Not yet.
Not now.
"I already used Null," he muttered under his breath. "Can't activate it again so soon…"
He staggered, wiping blood from his mouth. I'll have to get creative. If I can't overpower her, I need to outthink her again.
Again—before even a thought could form—he was struck.
This time, lower, sharp and cruel, like a hook tearing through his gut. His legs gave out. He hit the ground hard.
And then she was on him.
Straddling him like a rider taming a wild beast, her weight pressed into his hips, her hands resting lightly on his chest, nails tracing along the wound. Her gaze flickered with amusement, her lips parting in a soft, lullaby-sweet whisper.
"Why don't you give up?" she cooed.
Cydal's breath caught in his throat. He was pinned—not by weight, but by the overwhelming sensation crashing against his mind.
She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear.
"You didn't activate this gate," she whispered. "This isn't your boss challenge."
Her body moved in a slow rhythm against his, hips grinding subtly with wicked purpose. Cydal's face flushed, heat rising to his cheeks—not from desire, but from shame, frustration… helplessness.
"Some fresh little potentials are wandering the dungeon floors as we speak," she continued, swaying like a hypnotist's pendulum. "They're being tested. This chamber is a trial now a trial—meant to see who's worthy of becoming a new player."
She smiled, tilting her head, lips hovering just above his own.
"You came here as just a witness today… and yet, look at you. Weak. Struggling to breath..."
Cydal's hands clenched at his sides. Not out of lust, but fury.
She was smothering him—her soft, pale hands tightening around his neck as she rocked her hips against his crotch, moving with a slow, rhythmic grind.
"Why don't we enjoy ourselves and let the newcomers finish the quest?"
She leaned in again, her lips brushing against his, the warmth of her breath was intoxicating.
But then—SMACK!
Cydal's hand struck her face with raw force. The impact echoed through the chamber. She was thrown off him, crashing onto the dirt, a flash of surprise finally staining her elegance.
"You forgot again," Cydal growled, rising to one knee, blood dripping down his side. "My ability nullifies your powers. You shouldn't get this close."
Before the words had fully escaped his mouth, she laughed. Not a mocking laugh, not even offended—just entertained.
"You really don't understand your situation, do you? I don't need my powers to have my way with you. You're already mine—exactly how I want you."
She lay on the ground beside him like a lover sharing a starlit bed, her tone dreamy and dangerous.
Then she sat up with ease, brushing dust off her thighs.
"Well... you're alive today because it's not my job to fight you—at least not right now. New challengers will be arriving soon in my chamber."
She pouted, then added, "I didn't get to finish my fun... but my presence is needed there."
She turned to him with a smirk, dark eyes shining.
"You could walk with me, you know. Doesn't it sound more thrilling—marching beside a beautiful woman?"
Cydal didn't flinch. His expression remained stone cold. Not charmed, not intrigued—just disgusted.
Her smile wavered, annoyance flashing across her face.
"Well, whatever." She flicked her hair off her shoulder.
"If you really want to challenge the creator, you'll have to go through us first. I'll be waiting. You should feel lucky you're cute—I don't usually go out with the same man twice."
Then—blink.
And in that single blink, she was gone.
All that remained was silence, and the towering structure before him.
The Tower—closer now than ever before.
Only one thing stood between him and it:
A staircase spiraling around it like a serpent made of stone, endlessly winding toward the heavens.
And Cydal, bloodied but breathing, began to climb.
The higher Cydal climbed the spiral stairs, the smaller the world below became. And now, he had finally reached the top of the tower. The chamber stood before him.
At its center loomed a massive hourglass, suspended in the air, surrounded by five jagged stone pillars that led nowhere—like broken bridges reaching for something long gone.
The sand in the hourglass was rising instead of falling, as if Time itself were reversing.
"You again?" Selphonie muttered, her voice echoing through the vast emptiness as she watched the rubble-swallowed cityscape from her towering perch.
"I have nothing to gain from the new challengers," Cydal said, stepping into view. "I'm here to end this quest... so I can finally get out."
"Awwh, are you sure you don't want to play with me a little?" she teased, swaying toward him, hips fluid, fingers twirling strands of her long hair.
"You disgust me," Cydal replied, voice cold, eyes unmoved.
"Urgh, fine," she scoffed, halting mid-step and turning back to the hourglass. She tapped its glass with one fingernail. "You're an annoying kid. Worse than Shadow, I swear."
She looked over her shoulder, a grin that didn't reach her eyes.
"Your quest is this hourglass. Let's see if you can handle it."
The screen cut to black.
---
Hours later.
The room was empty.
Cydal was nowhere to be seen.
Selphonie lounged at the edge of her tower, fingers drumming the armrest, her gaze lost in the distant ruins of the city.
To be continued